Chapter 24
24
“Two days,” Ward said, voice flat and cold. “Hiller backs off, or I clean it up myself. You may need to have a talk with him, Your… Honor. Explain to him the situation.”
Did this fool really think it would work this way? Ward had gotten greedy and stupid and he thought everyone was a chess piece on his board. But people just didn’t work the way Ward seemed to think. Was Holland supposed to just say, “Hey, George, I need you to back off now to make Ward happy!”
That wasn’t the way any of this would work. Not one bit.
Holland shifted in his chair, fingers tightening around the armrests. “He’s not like Jim Tolben. You can’t bully Hiller the way you have Tolben. Hiller will just get angry and stop pulling punches. He’s smart and he’s well-connected and he’s not afraid of standing for what he believes, damn him. Unlike Tolben, Hiller isn’t the kind to keep his fucking mouth shut.”
Hell, Holland actually liked George Hiller and what he stood for when he thought about it. The younger man had a damned spine. Unlike the man standing across from him now.
Ward turned, stepping closer, the floorboards creaking under his boots. “I don’t care who he is. Accidents happen all the time.” He leaned over the desk, his weight pressing down. “Brakes fail. Roads get slick. Then it’s ‘bye-bye, Mr. Hiller and your beautiful little blonde clerk.’ The whole town will turn out for the funerals. What a tragedy. They were so young and so beautiful together, and they had a baby on the way, too. Why, Gayle and Max must be beyond heartbroken! I can just see it now.”
“You sick son-of-a-bitch. That’s a pregnant woman.” And he’d do it, too. Holland could see it in Ward’s soulless eyes. He’d kill that clerk, that unborn baby, just on the off chance he could get what he wanted. Bastard.
He sickened Holland completely. This… was who he’d thrown his lot in with? What had he become?
Ward drummed his damned sausage fingers on the files open atop the desk.
“Then do your job. And keep it in mind—her brother is FBI. Handles corruption. You know what that would mean? Might be best for her and Hiller to just…go bye-bye.” His finger trailed across the papers, pausing at Tolben’s name. “You’ve been dragging your feet too long. Fix it. Unless… you no longer want to play the game?”
Holland grabbed the folder, flipping it open. False filings, forged signatures, backdated approvals—it was all right there. He had documented everything Ward had demanded. From day one.
He just didn’t know what to do with it now.
“I can stall him,” Holland said, his voice tight. “But it won’t be enough.”
Ward leaned in, close enough that Holland could smell the cigarette smoke clinging to his breath. Who the hell smoked anymore? Filthy habit. “Make it enough.”
“You don’t get it. Hiller has people. He won’t just walk away. And the more we make it so obvious, the less likely he is to back down. I told you the Tolben case was too much. I told you not to go up against Hiller. You got greedy, damn it.”
“Make him back off. Or I will.”
Why did he think Holland had the power to make George Hiller do anything?
“This isn’t a game, Holland. Two days.”
And then Ward was gone. Leaving Holland with everything scattered around him. Everything.
He wasn’t going to stop this. Not and keep his life, his soul, intact. He’d already sold out to the devil.
Holland flipped the Tolben folder open again. Hiller’s name jumped out from the pages, underlined, highlighted, marked with dates and annotations. He traced the lines with his finger, following the pattern of pressure Ward had forced him to apply. He had shut down appeals, delayed rulings, and buried complaints—all to pave the way for Ward’s plans.
The courthouse clock chimed the hour, each toll reverberating through his chest. Counting down the minutes. The minutes until he gave his soul over to the devil forever. That’s what it was.
What he had become a party to.
As far as he knew, Ward hadn’t killed anyone or physically hurt anyone. Yet. But the man would. Eventually. It was just a matter of time.
First, it would be Hiller. And then… that girl. Who had done nothing wrong but fall in love with a man with a conscience, a soul. And then who would be next? One of Holland’s own children, his wife—to force Holland to keep playing Ward’s game?
When would it ever end?
He pulled open the drawer where he kept the bottle.
Holland wanted to throw it—his damned liquid courage. That’s what it was. Instead, he drank. More of the damned whiskey than he had in a long time.
And when he was done, his fingers twisted around metal.
Cold metal.
As he knew what he needed to do now. To fix this.
To stop Hiller from screwing everything up for them all.