sat across from me, a man nearly ten years older than me, with greasy black hair, sparse eyebrows of the same color, and lips so thin they looked like pencil marks. It made him appear constantly displeased. A gold cross hung around his neck, visible in the V neck of the shirt he wore. It was a hot summer day, humid as fuck, and it was no time to wear a suit.
I didn’t even own a suit.
Fuck that shit. I didn’t need a designer suit worth thousands to prove my worth. I could be buck naked, and people would know exactly who I was. They would know exactly what I was capable of.
He took one more drag of his cigar then put it on out in the ashtray. “You first.”
I’d already agreed to have the meeting on his property, but that was because I was fearless, not cooperative. His limestone wall and armed men would be helpless if I decided to turn on him. I had every single man on this property targeted by a sniper, not to mention the man I’d brought with me to this rendezvous. I always came prepared—and I outsmarted my opponent before he even realized his lack of cleverness.
I pulled the box from my pocket and set it on the table in between us. We sat on the back patio of his home, a large area hidden from the sun by a thick overhang. There was a hammock to our left, a large patio seating arrangement to our right, and a huge pool with several naked girls splashing around.
I saw tits all the time, so I didn’t look.
The second Lucian spotted the box, his eyes widened with greed. His eyes needed several seconds just to acknowledge the ordinary box before he even reached for it. Like it was a bomb that could go off any second, he handled it with the utmost care.
“It’s just a diamond, Lucian. It’s not gonna break.”
His gaze flicked up, and that oily look in his eyes deepened into a callous expression. As an Italian, he had thick hair on his chest that contrasted against the gold jewelry he wore. He was a slimy man, a man who couldn’t get those women into his pool unless he paid them. “Sir Francis Drake took these from the Sentinelese off the coast of India hundreds of years ago. Only three in existence, these are no ordinary diamonds—but skull diamonds. So I will take my fucking time.” He lifted the box and popped the lid.
Inside the velvet lining sat the large diamond, carved perfectly in the likeness of a skull. Lucian wasn’t the kind of man that needed money, but he liked to collect expensive things nonetheless.
He stared at it for minutes, not to determine if it was genuine, but to appreciate its allure. “Beautiful.” He shut the lid then slipped the box into his pants pocket.
“Your turn.” I had all three diamonds, and the only reason I was giving up one was because Lucian had something I wanted. While he was a greasy man without a spine, he was brilliant. He knew how to construct special kinds of bombs, from small ones that were completely undetected, to large bombs that could destroy an entire city. They weren’t ordinary, instead specially designed so they couldn’t be defused once activated. They could be remotely detonated. And most interestingly, he created bombs that could be ingested. They could survive the lining of the stomach for twelve hours before the acid disintegrated them. But even those could be remotely detonated, exploding a man from the inside. The Skull Kings were a ruthless band of thieves and tyrants, but even we didn’t have access to that kind of fun. It would be an excellent torture technique, and it would also make it easier to conquer those who hadn’t been conquered before. Lucian was the only one with those explosives—and he was very selective about who he shared them with. It would give me an advantage my enemies would never have.
Lucian rose to his feet, not to retrieve his end of the bargain, but to dismiss the conversation.
My heart rate didn’t change. My adrenaline didn’t kick in. The move was anticlimactic because I expected this. Little was known about Lucian, including the validity of his word, so I didn’t arrive with high expectations. A man’s reputation always preceded him, and if he didn’t have a reputation, good or bad, that was never a good sign.