Marcus gave him a nod and looked to Stark but said to Nightingale, “In future business, you don’t need a second.”

“Luke’s here because he helped Vance do the persuading and he’s feelin’ the need to see this through,” Nightingale responded.

That explained the bloody knuckles.

“Your tracker?” Marcus asked, eyes still on Stark.

“Vance needs clear of certain things,” Nightingale answered.

This meant his tracker was an ex-con.

It was good to know Nightingale was protective. It said a great deal. It was also good to know Nightingale hired with a view to the future, not judging what was in the past. That said more.

Marcus spoke directly to Stark. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Stark was known not to be a big talker. This he proved by not replying but also not moving.

“You don’t want to be here,” Marcus warned.

Stark spoke again without speaking, doing this crossing his arms on his chest.

Marcus looked to Nightingale. “You should take your man and go.”

“I’m feelin’ the need to see this through, too.”

Marcus held his gaze. “Detective Marker is not going to close this case.”

Nightingale did nothing but put his hands on his hips.

“Your father is a cop, your brother is a cop, and your best friend is a cop,” Marcus pointed out.

“Yeah, and none of them are here,” Nightingale returned.

“You’re also not going to dissuade me,” Marcus shared.

“Am I doing any dissuading?” Nightingale asked.

Marcus studied him.

Then he told him quietly, “I’m protecting you.”

A flash shot through Nightingale’s eyes.

Rage.

“I saw that fuckin’ tape,” he bit out. “And just sayin’, so did Vance and so did Luke. So I think you more than anybody get me when I say Luke and me feel the need to see this through.”

He was young.

He was good at what he did, but he was young.

He’d learn.

Rage had no place in what they did, Nightingale’s place skirting the edges of it, Marcus’s right in the middle of it.

You gave in to your rage, you got sloppy.

In their game, sloppy men didn’t survive.

You planned.

You executed.

Then you moved on.

“Let me protect you,” Marcus urged.

They locked eyes and it took some time but eventually Nightingale proved he wasn’t only good, he was smart. He did this jerking up his chin, cutting his gaze through Stark, and he dropped his hands from his hips before he cast a glance at Tucker and strode away.

Stark stared at Marcus another beat before he dropped his arms from his chest and followed Nightingale.

Marcus waited until the sound of the heavy door closing echoed through the room and only then did he look at Darius.

“It’s arranged?” he asked.

“Zano and Townsend are both on board.” Darius walked to Marcus, pulling a gun out of the back of his jeans and offering it Marcus’s way.

Marcus took it.

Darius continued, “They find anything, it’ll be linked to the House of Shade. Everyone wants Shade out. He’s sliding, somethin’ surfaces with this, things’ll get a lot more slippery.”

“Is something going to surface?” Marcus asked.

Darius shrugged. Then he smiled.

Christ.

Cold as stone.

A long time ago, Shirleen’s now-dead husband made things very difficult for Vincent Shade. He was holding on mostly because there was always enough crime to go around, and even stupid and completely insane, Shade managed to find his share.

He’d been a nuisance for some time.

Darius was correct, everyone wanted him gone. It was just that, considering he was only a nuisance, no one felt any need to expend much effort to see to that task.

Marcus could not know if Shirleen and Darius had reason to lose patience and intended to deal a killing blow.

And he didn’t care.

He looked to the man on his knees.

“Vincetti’s clean up,” Darius muttered and Marcus knew he was on the move. “Dom and his boys’re en route. Ren is not in the know on this and Vito wants it kept that way.”

“Thank you,” Marcus replied.

“Serious, this piece of shit, don’t mention it,” Darius said as his farewell.

Marcus waited again until he heard the door close.

Then he focused on the man’s eyes.

He was looking up at Marcus.

“Why?” Marcus asked.

“Just finish it,” the guy mumbled.

“Why?” Marcus repeated.

“Fuck!” the man exploded, the force of it making him veer forward so he had to put a hand out to catch his fall. He didn’t right himself but tipped his head back and shouted, “Just finish it!”

Louie pulled him back up to his knees by his hair.

“Fucking finish it!” he screamed, ripping his head from Louie’s hold, listing again but keeping his knees.

“Why?” Marcus asked again.

“We gonna play this game?” the man asked snidely.

“I’m thinking you might not have absorbed this, but this is my game, so yes, we’re going to play it.”

The man glared at him then spat, “Had me ejected.”

“It’s my understanding you put your hands on her during a private dance. That’s not allowed at Smithie’s.”