"You got into a lot of fights while in Ft. Madison Federal Penitentiary, didn't you, Mr. Moxey?"

"I defended myself…and others."

"And that enhanced your reputation, didn't it? A murderer who could be violent…"

"Objection. Mr. Moxley was framed and wrongly imprisoned."

"Which was not known at the time of his incarceration in Ft. Madison."

*sigh* "Objection overruled."

"Objection. Mr. Moxley would have no conception of what others felt about his so-called 'reputation'."

"Question withdrawn. What proof did you have that prison guards were suborned and controlled by the late Brock Lesnar?"

"It was common knowledge. Lesnar bragged about it."

"Objection. Mr. Lesnar is deceased and unable to defend himself."

*sigh* "Objection sustained."

"What proof do you have that Warden Cole allowed the abuse of prisoners?"

"Because he never stopped it! There's no way he couldn't have known about it!"

"Did you personally speak to Warden Cole about the abuse of prisoners?"

"Dr. Hayes did!"

"Objection. Dr. Hayes is deceased and cannot testify. You were furious about being in prison, weren't you? Now you're lying about Warden Cole because of that!"

"I'm not lying!"

"Everyone left you high and dry, didn't they? Not even your…"

"ENOUGH!"

Regal bellowed as he stepped between Angle and Mox who had jumped to his feet. Regal saw the fury in Mox's blue eyes and braced himself. "Calm down. Deep breaths."

To his credit, Angle never backed away, his own blue eyes fixed on Mox.

Snarling, Mox turned and walked to stare out the nearby window.

Regal turned to glare at Angle who shrugged. As Roman had predicted, Angle had taken the position of defense attorney while Regal played the part of the judge.

"You can't do that on the stand." Angle's voice was calm and non-judgmental. "It'll look even worse if you do it to Cole's attorney. It will look like you're going to attack a woman. It plays into their strategy to paint you as an angry aggressive man who picked fights while in prison."

Regal saw Mox's fists clenching and unclenching. "That's enough for today," he decided. "Mr. Moxley buried his father a few days ago. Obviously, he's not in the same mental state he will be in at the time of the trial."

Angle started to argue, then saw the resolution in Regal's eyes. "I understand. Call me when you're ready to continue this." His blue eyes flickered to Mox's rigid back. "Don't wait too long. We can't afford not to do this."

"Agreed," Regal calmly nodded. "I believe you know your way out."

Angle nodded and shoved his papers into his briefcase. "My condolences on the death of your father, Mr. Moxley." He wasn't surprised when Mox didn't reply.

Once inside his car, Angle cursed under his breath. Regal could use the excuse of the death of Mox's father to explain Mox's angry reaction so early in the mock cross examination. But Angle's investigation had shown they'd been estranged for years. He privately doubted Mox's outburst had been caused by any grief.

He'd just put on his seatbelt when his cell phone rang. Sighing, Angle pulled it from his pocket and saw his legal assistant's name on the display. "Angle."

"Sorry to interrupt, but this is important," Sonya Deville apologized.

"We were done anyway," Angle sighed. "Moxley blew up far too early and too quickly."

"Get back to the office as quickly as you can."

Angle started his car. "Why? What happened?"

Her reply caused him to disconnect the call and throw the phone onto the passenger seat. As he drove off the parking lot, he calculated how fast he could get back to Des Moines by running his lights and siren.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Roman privately admitted the Authority's casino appeared to be doing a pretty good business on a weekday afternoon. He turned and murmured to Jericho, "Remind me to check on how much we're losing to this place."

Jericho barely nodded in return.

"Mr. Reigns, how nice to see you again."

Roman turned to see Cesaro smiling as he approached them. "Mr. Cesaro. We have a meeting with Mr. Helmsley."

"Of course. Please…this way."

Flanked by Jericho and McIntyre, Roman walked with Cesaro to the nearby escalator which took them to the second floor.

"Our steakhouse is open from 11am until 2am for our patrons' convenience," Cesaro pointed out. "However, if you ever wish to try the cuisine, let me know; and I will issue you and your party a guest pass."

"I'll keep that in mind," Roman dryly replied. He had to smile when Cesaro grinned at him. The European apparently had a high standard of polite behavior even in this type of situation.

He saw the VIP poker room before they reached it. As Jericho had reported, there were glass walls on three sides. Hunter sat on the right side of the large round poker table while a man sat on either side of him. Roman recognized Orton and Cesaro's head of security. 'Sheamus…that's his name.'

Cesaro opened the door and stepped aside to allow Roman and the others to enter. "There are snacks and drinks on the table next to the wall. If anyone wishes more or something different, please use the telephone and press number 7." He smiled again then left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Roman casually sat across the table from Hunter, Jericho sitting to his right and McIntyre to his left.

"I'm surprised Samoa Joe didn't accompany you," Hunter raised his eyebrows.

Roman chuckled. "You think I'd still have that traitor in my employ?"

"Oh?"

"I'm still alive, aren't I?" Roman mocked. "Not only are you a cheap bastard, Hemlsley…only two million for my life?...but you picked an incompetent man to carry out the hit."

"Not to mention we have a better system to tracking money than you do of dispersing it," Jericho smirked.

"I guess you've conveniently forgotten that Vince and my father had an agreement," Roman coldly spoke. "Going after certain people would only result in retaliations that neither side could afford. You've screwed up."

"I've no idea what you're talking about," Hunter calmly denied. "Whatever internal problems you have with your people is your business. Not mine."

Roman sighed. "I'm going to reach into my pocket and pull out my cell phone and another object. Neither are weapons."

Both McIntyre and Jericho remained relaxed, Jericho retaining his smirk, although both Orton and Sheamus stiffened.

Hunter held up a hand for them to relax and leaned back in his chair, a bored expression on his face. "Am I supposed to be impressed?" he snorted.

Roman smirked. "You will be." He picked up the phone and dialed a number. Then he placed the phone on the table and activated the speaker.

"Who is this?"

Jericho openly grinned when the three men on the other side of the table reacted in surprise. McIntyre allowed a smirk to cross his face.

"This is Roman Reigns. How are you, Vince?"

"How did you get this number?" Vince angrily demanded.

"Apparently, not only can the Bloodline move and trace money better than your son-in-law's organization, our hackers are better than his," Roman calmly answered. "By the way, Hunter and two of his associates are sitting across from the table from me and two of my associates."

"Is that a fact?" Vince snarked. "Hunter! What the hell is going on?"

Before Hunter could answer, Roman spoke. "Right about now, you should be receiving two emails on your personal email address. Each contains an attached file. You have my personal guarantee there are no viruses embedded in the attachments."

"And why should I believe that?" Vince demanded.

They could all hear someone's fingers typing on a keyboard.

"Because it has to do with the agreement you and my father had," Roman answered.

"I had a number of agreements with Sika," Vince pointed out. "Care to be a little more specific?"

"The agreement regarding assassinations and retaliations leading to war." Roman smiled. "I'm sure you remember that one."

"I do." Vince's voice was flat.

"The first email and attachment deals with a monetary transaction between Hunter's organization and a…former member of the Bloodline. One Samoa Joe," Roman explained. "Oh, and by the way, Hunter is a cheap bastard. He offered two million for my assassination." He slowly smiled at Hunter. "Having some cash flow problems, Hunter? You know I'm worth far more than that."

"I'm not sitting here…"

"Shut up, Hunter!" Vince's voice thundered through the cell phone speaker.

"The second email attachment is a voice recording. You'll recognize my voice. The other voice is the former member of the Bloodline contracted to assassinate me. He failed because he underestimated the loyalty of those around me," Roman explained. "Now, I don't know and I don't care if he contacted Hunter or Hunter contacted him. As far as I'm concerned, that's irrelevant. What is relevant is that the deal was made in violation of that agreement. That individual has been terminated from my employ. What you do about Hunter is your business as long as I get your assurance this doesn't happen again. Because if it does…"

"Don't threaten me!" Vince angrily warned.

"Who's threatening you?" Roman smoothly replied. "Surely you remember the consequences detailed in that agreement." He reached for the second item on the table. "I had this recorder in my pocket when Samoa Joe attempted to kill me. This is what you'll hear in the email attachment. But perhaps Hunter needs to hear it as well." He clicked a small button and leaned back in chair.

"Gonna shoot me in the back?"

"No. I want you to see it coming. Turn around."

"Why, Joe?"

"I'd be happy to explain. We have time. You see, Ali isn't making that call for backup."

"You killed him?!"

"Of course. I told you to come alone. You could've figured a way to do that, but you just had to insist on someone coming with you. Someone who would call in back up for you. So, he had to die. You don't get it, do you? The Bloodline is blood. Our blood! Samoan blood! Oh, we have others working for us, but what did you do? You put outsiders above your own blood."

"That's what this is all about?"

"Who should be standing at your side?" Joe seethed. "The twins? They're good at running their street contacts and that business. Jey might will grow into more responsibility someday. But who stands at your side? Jericho and Black! Outsiders!"

"I put the best people in those positions. You have power, Joe. A lot of it. And a position of authority. I needed you where you were."

"And what about what I needed, Roman?"

"You could've spoken up at any time."

"Wouldn't have done any good. Jericho and Black are your fair-haired boys. You betrayed our bloodline."

"So, what happens now? Do you really think you're going to get away with this?"

"Oh, now you're going to die. I've got plenty of money stashed away and the Authority is going to pay me even more money. Dwayne, of course, will assume the Authority is behind it. At least, at first…but by then he'll be at war with the Authority and too busy to look for me."

"Dwayne won't stop coming after you."

A single gunshot rang out followed by the sound of a body hitting the floor.

Roman leaned forward and turned off the recorder. "Did you hear all that, Vince?"

"Vince, this is…"

"I said, shut up, Hunter!" Vince snarled. "Did you stop for a moment to think about what a war like this would cost you?!"

Roman casually replaced the recorder in his pocket. "I'm pretty sure he did, Vince. That's why he would've pointed the finger at Shane."

Anyone who was expecting an explosion from Vince didn't know the man. Instead, there was dead silence.

"We know Shane is here in Davenport and keeping a low profile," Roman explained. "He has to have your protection or otherwise someone from your son-in-law's organization would've moved on him by now. I'm willing to bet Hunter would've told Dwayne that my assassination was Shane's doing."

"That's a lie!" Hunter angrily denied.

Roman raised his eyebrows. He'd carefully had the recording of the confrontation between him and Samoa Joe edited before re-recording it and having it sent to Vince. And whatever Shane was working on was on Vince's direct orders. Throwing Vince's son under Dwayne's bus would get him out of Hunter's hair for good.

"Hunter, I'll talk to you in twenty minutes. Your hotel suite," Vince ordered after a minute of silence. "Reigns, you have my personal assurance this will not happen again. And I will deal with this personally."

Roman's eyes met Hunter's. "Very well, Vince. But if it does, we won't have any further conversations. Taua e o'o i le oti. Do you remember that phrase of my father's?"

"Completely," Vince snapped as he terminated the call.

Roman took his phone and placed it in his pocket as he and the others stood.

"What did that phrase mean?" Hunter asked. "Some Samoan curse?"

Roman looked over his shoulder as Jericho opened the door to the room. "It means war to the death."

McIntyre chuckled as he closed the door behind them.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hunter viciously stabbed the button on his phone that disconnected his call with Vince. "Goddamn old man," he muttered under his breath. He got to his feet and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows, hands on his hips. He was on thin ice with Vince even though he'd gotten Vince to admit if the plan had succeeded the Authority would've been unchallenged in Davenport and in a better position in Chicago. The chaos resulting in Roman's assassination would've hampered Dwayne in any war with the Authority.

It was Reigns throwing him under the bus about shoving the responsibility for the hit onto Shane that really raised Vince's anger. "How the hell did Reigns know about that?" he spat. After a few moments, he silently acknowledged it was logical once Reigns knew of Shane's presence in Davenport.

Shane. Shane was the ticking time bomb. Remove Shane from the equation….no, that would only sign his own death warrant.

Hunter rubbed his jaw as he silently thought, then he slowly smiled. The plan he was conceiving needed more thought and planning. But it was a good Plan B.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Come on aboard!"

MJF grinned as he openly appreciated the yacht in front of him. As he stepped aboard, Ric slapped him on the shoulder. "A beauty, isn't she?"

"Yeah, she is," MJF agreed.

Ric motioned to the man in wheelhouse, and the engines started. He led MJF towards a table set up mid-ship as the deckhands released the yacht from its moorings.

"Here's the…oops!"

Ric laughed as he caught Bo before he stumbled to the deck and dropped the ice bucket and its two bottles of champagne. "Steady, Bo! Been taking a few sips of the bubbly already?"

Bo carefully placed the bucket of ice on the table. "No, Mr. Ric! I wouldn't do that!"

Ric slapped Bo on the shoulder. "Just kidding, Bo. Bring out the hor d'oeuvres when we get to open water."

"Yes, sir!" Bo widely smiled and made his way back to the galley, stumbling only once on the stairs.

"Dallas is an idiot," MJF snorted as he sat down. "Why do you keep him around?"

"Oh, Bo's a good sort," Ric chuckled as he sat down next to the younger man. "He makes me laugh. In our business, it's good to have someone like that around." He opened one bottle of champagne and poured both MJF and himself a glass. Then he settled back in his chair. "Now, let's talk. Why were you transferred from Davenport?"

MJF sipped the champagne and smiled in appreciation of the taste. "The editor of one of the local papers was sniffing around the Authority and got a little too close for comfort." He shrugged. "Somebody bungled what was to have been a warning and killed him. His body was taken away. My partner and I got called in when he was reported missing."

Ric smiled as MJF chuckled. "My partner's another idiot. I made sure the investigation showed that there wasn't any foul play and that he'd just left on his own. No close family. Wasn't going anywhere better in his career."

Ric slowly nodded. "Wouldn't be the first man to take off in the throes of a mid-life crisis." He refilled the younger man's class. "So, what happened?"

"Somebody called in a tip to the cops about where the body was buried," MJF grunted. "They identified him, and his brother…a State Senator…started breathing fire and brimstone about a botched investigation. The Chief of Police caved in to him. They fired me, but gave my so-called partner retirement."

Ric sighed and shook his head. "Politicians. They can screw up something faster than a tornado ripping through Kansas."

"Never should've happened," MJF grumbled. "Should've made sure he couldn't cause trouble."

"Hindsight's 20/20, but you make a good point," Ric admitted. He turned his head when he heard Bo stumble on the stairs. "You okay, Bo?"

"Yes, Mr. Ric." Bo smiled as he appeared with a tray of hor d'oeuvres which he placed on the table between the two men.

"Good job!" Ric complimented him, motioning for MJF to start eating. "Now, we're almost in open water so I'm going to have the Captain open her up to show Mr. Friedman what this baby can do. Why don't you take your Dramamine and go to one of the guest rooms below? We don't want a repeat of last time, do we?"

"No, sir!" Bo quickly shook his head as he put a hand over his stomach. "You don't need anything else?"

"Nah, we're good," Ric chuckled. "You go on down and get some rest. We may be going out later tonight."

"Yes, Mr. Ric!"

MJF mentally counted the steps as Bo went below deck. He'd counted to four when he heard Bo stumble. "Idiot," he muttered.

Ric stood and called up to the wheelhouse. In a few seconds, the yacht's powerful engines started and the yacht began racing across the ocean's surface.

Ric sat back down at the table, obviously thinking as they silently ate. Then he waved an arm indicating the yacht. "Our business is just like any other business. You work to get to the top. More money. More power. Yacht. Lear Jet. Women and the good life."

MJF looked around the yacht again in appreciation. "Anybody who doesn't want that is a fool."

"World's full of fools," Ric laughed. "That's why we are successful." He opened the second bottle of champagne and refilled MJF's glass. He topped off his own, and sat back in his chair. "Now, tell me what you did for the Authority besides derailing one investigation."

"Best thing I ever did was pay off the head of the IT department at one of the largest security companies in Davenport," the younger man bragged. "He could get me the security code for any of the homes or businesses contracted with them."

"Robberies?" Ric curiously asked. "Wouldn't that arouse suspicion?"

MJF snorted. "Robberies would be stupid. What I did allowed someone to get into the building at night. Go through business files. Download information from computers. That information allowed the Authority to know what business was successful and which ones were in trouble. Also got some personal information that allowed pressure to be put on people to get them into line." He chuckled and finished the champagne in his glass. "Also allowed Orton to get rid of a problem."

"Orton? I remember when he was just starting out," Ric smiled.

"Some realtor screwed up not buying the building where that editor was dumped. Guy named Mizanin," MJF laughed. "I passed the security code for his office to Orton who took care of the problem." He sarcastically shook his head. "Cops have that one more than halfway to the cold case file."

"But you're no longer in Davenport," Ric pointed out. "Can you trust this guy not to rat you out if the cops come sniffing around?"

"I called him just before I flew out and told him I'd continue to take care of him," MJF bragged. "He'll keep his mouth shut."

Ric nodded. "That's impressive." They sat quietly for several minutes before Ric stood. "Walk with me."

MJF refilled his glass then followed the older man to the railing.

"Always have some place to think," Ric quietly said as he stared out at the sea. "Clear your head. Consider possible options and consequences. Think of the worst thing that can happen then figure out how to avoid it." He nodded to himself. "Got that advice from a mentor of mine back in the day. Passing it on to you."

MJF smirked and drained his glass. "Just like Noble and every old man who should be put out to pasture. Thinking about the past…not the future.'

Ric turned as one of the crew murmured in his ear. Ric nodded and turned back to the railing. "Radar's picked up a Coast Guard vessel aways out. We're stopping so they'll pass us without picking us up." He glanced at his empty glass. "I'm getting a refill. Want one?"

"Sure," MJF nodded. 'Stupid old man. This is gonna be mine one day pretty soon.'

His thoughts were interrupted by a searing pain in his right shoulder. He dropped his glass to the deck, reaching for his shoulder. He looked down in astonishment at the blood flowing from a gunshot wound. He looked up to see…

…Ric standing a few feet away, a silenced gun in his hand.

"What the fuck!" MJF demanded.

"There's no Coast Guard vessel," Ric sighed as if in disappointment in MJF's gullibility. "You believe anything you're told, don't you?" He nodded to someone behind the younger man.

MJF turned to see several brawny deckhands grab him and raise him in the air. "NO!" he screamed as they threw him overboard.

Ric leaned over the railing to see MJF trying to tread water. "Oh, did I forget to mention we're in shark infested waters? That blood you're gushing is going to bring them around pretty quickly."

"GET ME OUTTA HERE!"

He saw one of the deckhands pointing to something in the distance. He turned his head to see a fin disappear beneath the surface of the ocean.

"That's a shark's dorsal fin," Ric called down to him.

"C'MON! PLEASE! GET ME UP!"

Ric saw a school of sharks approaching. They would make short work of Friedman. He turned and waved to the man in the wheelhouse.

MJF screamed again when the yacht's engines started back up. He helplessly watched as the yacht turned back towards the mainland. "No," he whimpered. "No."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ric smiled at the young man sleeping in the guest cabin then he reached down and shook Bo's shoulder. "Wakey wakey," he called out.

Bo's eyes slowly opened, then he sat up as he came fully awake. "Mr. Ric?"

"I let you sleep as long as possible," Ric chuckled. "That Dramamine really knocks you out, huh?"

"Yeah." Bo ran a hand through his dark hair, then realized they weren't moving. "We're docked?"

"And ready to get back on dry land," Ric nodded. "You going to feel up to going out tonight?"

"Sure, Mr. Ric," Bo nodded as he got to his feet and looked for his shoes. "Is Mr. Friedman coming too?"

"No, Mr. Friedman didn't work out," Ric answered as he left the cabin. "He's gone on to other things. We won't be seeing him again."