Power Plays
The building was glass and steel, thirty stories of corporate wealth rising into the gray morning sky.
Jack stood at the entrance, his cane clicking against the polished marble floor. His leg still ached, but the pain was manageable now. Distant.
He approached the reception desk.
"Jack Morrison," he said. "I have an appointment with Mr. Moss."
The receptionist—young, blonde, professionally pleasant—picked up the phone. Spoke quietly. Listened.
"Mr. Moss is expecting you," she said. "Tenth floor. His assistant will meet you at the elevator."
Jack nodded and crossed to the elevators.
The ride up was smooth. Silent. The elevator doors opened to reveal a sleek hallway lined with abstract art and floor-to-ceiling windows.
A woman in a tailored suit waited for him.
"Mr. Morrison. This way, please."
She led him down the hall to a set of double doors. Knocked once. Opened them without waiting for a response.
"Mr. Moss, Jack Morrison is here."
"Send him in."
The assistant stepped aside.
Jack walked into the office.
It was massive. Corner office, panoramic views of the city, furniture that probably cost more than Jack's old house. Gerald Moss sat behind a desk the size of a small car, his suit immaculate, his expression unreadable.
And beneath the desk—visible from where Jack stood—was a pair of bare feet.
A woman's feet.
Jack's eyes flicked to them, then back to Moss.
Moss smiled. Thin. Predatory.
Jesus Christ.
His stomach turned. Not from disgust—he'd seen worse, done worse—but from the casual cruelty of it. The power play. Moss wanted him to see. Wanted him to know that he was being serviced while they talked business.
This is a test.
"Sit," he said. Not an invitation. A command.
Jack didn't move.
He stood there, leaning slightly on his cane, and let his gaze drift back to the feet under the desk.
Say something. Make a joke. Show him you're not intimidated
"Looks like you're already occupied," Jack said. His tone was light. Casual. "Should I come back later?"
Moss's smile widened slightly.
That was good. That sounded confident.
But his palms were sweating. His heart was pounding. He gripped the cane tighter to keep his hand from shaking.
You don't belong here. You're a crippled man with a cane pretending to be someone you're not.
"No need. She's just keeping me company." He gestured to the chair across from him. "Sit."
Jack stayed standing.
"I'm good here," he said. "Won't take long."
There was a pause. A beat of silence where Moss's eyes narrowed just slightly
Then Moss laughed. Low and genuine.
"Alright," Moss said. "Stand if you want. But let's get to business. You said you had a proposition for me."
Jack nodded. "I do."
"And it involves taking down Rider."
Breathe. Just breathe. You can do this.
"Yes."
Moss leaned back in his chair. His hand disappeared beneath the desk for a moment, and Jack heard a soft, muffled sound. The woman's head moving.
"Go on," Moss said.
Jack kept his expression neutral. Unbothered.
"We're opening a warehouse," he said. "High-end. Exclusive. Everything Rider's operation is, but better. Cleaner. More professional."
"And you want my help."
"I want you as a silent investor."
Moss raised an eyebrow. "Silent?"
"You don't have to show your face. Don't have to publicly associate with us. No risk of retaliation from Rider or anyone else." Jack shifted his weight slightly, his cane tapping the floor. "All you need to do is use your connections. Help us market to the right people. Get the word out."
That sounded good. That sounded like you know what you're talking about.
"And in return?
"You get a stake in the business."
Moss was quiet for a moment. His hand moved again beneath the desk, and the woman made another soft sound.
"How much of a stake?" Moss asked.
"Five percent."
Moss laughed. "Five? You're joking."
"I'm not."
"I could get ten percent from Rider just for telling him about this conversation."
Jack didn't flinch. "You could. But Rider's operation is falling apart. Hela just made her move. His investors are pulling out. His reputation is crumbling." He paused. "We're the future. He's the past."
Moss studied him. His fingers drummed on the desk.
Did that sound convincing? Did you sell it?
"Ten percent," he said finally.
He's thinking about it. Holy shit, he's actually thinking about it.
"Six."
"Nine."
"Seven. Final offer."
Another pause
Then Moss smiled. "Five."
Jack blinked. "What?"
"You heard me. Five percent. You stood your ground. Didn't fold when I pushed. That's worth something." Moss leaned forward slightly. "Besides, I like watching Rider squirm. And if you can actually pull this off, five percent of your operation will be worth more than ten percent of his."
Wait. What just happened?
Jack nodded slowly. "Deal."
"Good." Moss's hand moved beneath the desk again, and this time the woman made a louder sound. A gasp. "My lawyer will draw up the paperwork. Discreet. Untraceable."
Holy shit. You did it. You actually did it.
"Understood."
Moss's breathing was slightly heavier now. His eyes darker.
"Anything else?" he asked.
"No. That's it."
"Good." Moss's voice was tight. Strained. "Then we're done here."
He snapped his fingers, and the woman beneath the desk emerged. She was young, brunette, her lipstick smudged. She didn't look at Jack.
"Escort Mr. Morrison out," Moss said.
The woman nodded and crossed to the door. Jack followed her.
As he stepped into the hallway, he heard Moss groan softly behind him.
The door closed.
Jack exhaled.
His hands were shaking. Not slightly—violently. Adrenaline. Relief. Terror.
You did it. You actually fucking did it.
He pulled out his phone and dialed Bella.
She answered on the second ring.
"How'd it go?"
"We have Moss's support," Jack said. His voice was steady again. Confident. "Five percent stake. Silent investor. He'll use his connections."
There was a pause. Then Bella's voice, warm and proud:
"I knew you could do it."
Jack smiled. "You taught me well."
"We should celebrate later."
"Yeah. We should."
"I'm at the warehouse now. Come by when you're done."
"Will do."
He hung up and leaned against the wall for a moment, letting the tension drain from his body.
Then he straightened, adjusted his grip on the cane, and headed for the elevator.
***
Bella stood in the center of the warehouse, her arms crossed, her eyes scanning the space.
The construction was coming along faster than expected. The main floor was nearly finished—polished concrete, recessed lighting, sleek bars being installed along the walls. The private rooms upstairs were framed out, waiting for drywall and fixtures.
"Ms. Chen?"
Bella turned. One of the foremen—a broad-shouldered man in a hard hat—was walking toward her.
"The electrical for the second floor is done," he said. "We'll start on the plumbing tomorrow."
"Good. What about the soundproofing?"
"Ordered. Should arrive by Friday."
Bella nodded. "Make sure it's installed correctly. I don't want any noise bleeding between rooms."
"Understood."
Her phone buzzed. She pulled it out and saw Jack's name.
"Excuse me," she said to the foreman.
She answered. "How'd it go?"
"We have Moss's support. Five percent stake. Silent investor. He'll use his connections."
Bella felt a surge of satisfaction. Pride.
"I knew you could do it."
"You taught me well."
"We should celebrate later."
"Yeah. We should."
"I'm at the warehouse now. Come by when you're done."
"Will do."
She hung up and slipped the phone back into her pocket.
The foreman was still standing there, waiting.
"Anything else?" Bella asked.
"Yeah. Someone's outside asking for you."
Bella frowned. "Who?"
"Didn't say. Just said he needs to talk to the owner."
Bella's instincts prickled. "Where is he?"
"Out front."
She nodded and walked toward the entrance, her heels clicking on the concrete.
The warehouse doors were open, letting in the cool morning air. Bella stepped outside and saw him immediately.
A man. Rough-looking. Leather jacket, tattoos crawling up his neck, a scar cutting through his left eyebrow. He was leaning against a black SUV, arms crossed, watching her.
Bella stopped a few feet away.
Her pulse quickened. She hadn't expected this.
"You wanted to see me?" she asked, keeping her voice steady.
The man straightened. "You the owner?"
"I am."
He looked her up and down. Slow. Deliberate.
"Nice place you got here," he said. "Big investment."
"Thank you."
"Problem is," the man continued, "this area? It belongs to the Southside Kings. That's my gang. We run everything from here to the docks."
Bella's chest tightened. Her breath caught for just a moment.
Southside Kings.
She'd heard the name before. Everyone in the city had. They controlled the industrial district—protection rackets, smuggling, loan sharking. They'd been operating for 3 years, maybe longer. Established. Connected. Dangerous.
And she hadn't researched this. Hadn't thought to check who controlled the territory before she bought the warehouse.
Stupid. You should have known.
The man watched her reaction, his expression unreadable.
"Name's Tommy," he said. "I'm a lieutenant with the Kings. Handle collections for this sector." He gestured vaguely at the surrounding blocks. "Every business here pays us. Has been that way since before you showed up."
Bella forced herself to stay calm. To keep her hands from shaking.
"I bought the land," she said. "I bought the warehouse. It's mine now."
Tommy smiled. It didn't reach his eyes.
"That's not how it works. You can own the building all you want. But the territory? That's ours. And if you want to operate here—if you want your construction to keep going, your workers to stay safe—you pay the fee."
"What fee?"
"Ten thousand a month."
Bella's mind raced. Five thousand. That was manageable, but it was also extortion. And if she paid once, she'd be paying forever.
"And if I don't?" she asked.
Tommy shrugged. "Then accidents happen. Fires. Theft. Workers get hurt on the job. Equipment goes missing." He paused. "There was a guy about two years back. Opened a chop shop three blocks from here. Thought he could handle things himself. Didn't want to pay."
"What happened to him?"
"Place burned down. He was inside." Tommy's tone was casual, matter-of-fact. "Electrical fire, the report said. Real tragedy."
Bella's pulse was pounding now. Her chest felt tight.
This is real. This is actually happening.
"We've been running protection in this area for over ten years," Tommy continued. "Every warehouse, every shop, every business. They all pay. It's just how things work. Keeps everyone safe. Keeps things running smooth."
He pushed off the SUV and took a step closer.
"You seem smart," he said. "So I'm gonna give you some advice. Don't make this harder than it needs to be. Pay the fee. Keep your business running. Nobody gets hurt."
Bella's hands wanted to shake. She clenched them into fists at her sides.
"I need time to think about it," she said.
"Sure. You got a week." Tommy pulled a card from his jacket pocket and held it out. "Call that number when you're ready. Or don't. Either way, we'll be back."
Bella took the card. Her fingers trembled slightly as she slipped it into her pocket.
Tommy smiled again. "Smart lady. I can tell." He turned and walked back to the SUV. "See you soon, Ms. Chen."
He climbed into the driver's seat and pulled away, the engine rumbling as the vehicle disappeared down the street.
Bella stood there for a long moment, her heart still racing.
Southside Kings. Protection racket. Five thousand a month.
She hadn't expected this. Hadn't planned for it.
Her hands were shaking now. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving her cold and uncertain.
What the hell do I do now?
She turned and walked back into the warehouse, her mind already working through the problem.
One week. That was manageable.
Her hands were still shaking as the adrenaline wore off, but she'd figure out her next move. She always did.