Chapter 27
THE BUYER
QUINTON
“They sent another video last night.” I tilt my phone toward Damon as we ride the lift to the front desk of The Golden Lotus.
His tightened expression mirrors my own as he stares at Emery on the screen.
She doesn’t look nearly as disheveled. Her wounds are healing.
This time, her words were clear. The only thing she says is that we have twenty-four hours.
The clock is counting down, but thankfully, we’ve got the benefit of time zones on our side. An extra seven hours.
I put the phone away as the doors ping open, and I brace myself for impact. “Let’s hope we’re not swarmed by armed guards.”
“We’ll be fine,” Damon says coolly, straightening his posture. “The diamonds are already on the jet. And Sherri… Well, Sherri knows she needs to play her role convincingly.”
I glare at Damon. “What role is that exactly?”
Damon didn’t disclose the aftermath of their evening together. Once those diamonds hit the floor, and Damon’s bedroom door snapped shut, I took the jewels and ran. It wasn’t until three hours later that Damon showed up in my suite and told me our plan was successful.
I don’t count last night as a victory. Not until we’re back on the jet, in the air. Until then, we’re still treading dangerous water.
“Heads up,” Damon whispers as Han and Pei Li hover by the front desk, both men wearing an unreadable expression. “Relax, Q,” he adds, sensing my unease. “Nothing is wrong. Just smile.” As we approach the brothers, Damon grins. “Gentlemen, good morning.”
“There is nothing good about this morning,” Han grumbles.
I can practically hear Damon screaming at me with his eyes not to react.
“Is something wrong?” I ask casually, gaze shifting between Han and Pei.
Pei nods over our shoulders, sighing. “Why don’t you ask Mrs. Li?”
We all crane our necks toward the clicking of heels, and my eyes widen, my stomach dropping to my arse. Jesus Christ. Sherri Li makes her way toward us, her left eye bruised and busted, a couple of scabs marking her cheek.
A surge of anger courses through me, and I shoot Damon a hardened look, my voice low and dangerous. "What the fuck did you do to her?!"
Damon shakes his head dismissively, spitting through his teeth, "Nothing. Shut up." I open my mouth, but Damon shoots me an ice-cold glare. “Don’t.”
As Sherri stops in front of us, Pei’s eyes soften as they rake over her face. "How are you feeling, Sherri?"
She glances down at her feet, her voice barely above a whisper. "Sore and embarrassed." She swallows hard and lifts her gaze to Damon, and my spine stiffens as she says, "I was robbed last night. I went for a cigarette outside and..."
Before she can continue, Han interrupts. "We’re checking the CCTV footage, but it appears the tapes were wiped."
I glance at Damon, suspicious. What the hell did he do?!
"That's terrible," Damon says, his tone oozing false sympathy. "I'm so sorry you had to go through such trauma. I hope you find the culprit."
Pei's face twists with frustration as he adds, "As do we. Fortunately, the diamonds were insured, yet I doubt we will recover the full value."
Han shakes his head at his wife, berating her.
"I should have never let you wear those jewels, you foolish woman.
" He checks his watch and sighs. "We have a meeting with the insurance company now.
I'm afraid we are not able to accompany you to the airport.
Thank you for attending my party. I hope to see you both in the near future. "
"I understand," Damon replies, playing his part perfectly. "Thank you for your hospitality. We’ll be in touch."
“Sherri will escort you to the car,” Han says, nodding as he bids us farewell, and he and Pei strut away, leaving the three of us alone.
“Sherri—” I’m cut off as she glowers at Damon, crossing her arms.
“Do you know how difficult it is to throw oneself against a fucking doorknob?” She lifts a brow. “You are a bastard, Daman Cavanaugh.”
Damon blinks, and I frown. She did that to herself?! “I said make it look like a robbery.” He shrugs. “I never said maim yourself in the process.”
Sherri rolls her eyes, guiding us out of the hotel. “You said make it believable, and so I did.” She clicks her tongue. “I still don’t understand why you stole the diamonds. It’s not like you need—”
“That’s enough.” Damon holds up his hand. “No more. It’s done, Sherri. Pretend like this never happened.”
Sherri purses her lips as she stands beside the SUV. She subtly glances around, and when she sees that no one is looking, she slips a piece of paper out of her bra and hands it to Damon.
“Call me, Mr. Cavanaugh,” she whispers, smirking at him. “Perhaps next time will have a more favorable ending.”
Damon grins, plucking the paper out of her hand. “We’ll see, Mrs. Li. Perhaps.”
“Doctor,” Sherri says, giving me a polite nod. “Safe travels.” And she leaves.
I gawk at Damon as we climb into the SUV, refraining from commenting until I can’t bite my tongue any longer.
“She still wants to fuck you?” I ask, tone chock-full of disbelief. “After you essentially robbed her and forced her to hurt herself? She still wants you?”
Damon shrugs, coy and smug. “It’s a gift, Q. You know this. Women… They adore me. They can never get enough.”
I roll my eyes. “You are incredibly obnoxious.”
Damon scoffs. “I’m sensing some jealousy.” He tilts his head. “We all have our skills, Quinton. This happens to be mine. We can’t all be world-renowned cancer researchers. Some of us are simply good with our cocks.”
“Out of all the topics I wish to discuss right now, your cock isn’t one of them.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and pull out my cell phone, checking our flight route. “Your buyer knows we’re coming, correct?”
Damon blinks at me. “Is that a joke? Of course, he knows. We’ll meet him in his London office at 4 a.m. He wasn’t overly pleased with such an early wake-up call, but given the time difference, I told him there was no other option.”
“He better be there. After we land, we’ll only have eight hours until the deadline at noon.”
“Once he inspects the diamonds, he’ll transfer the funds,” Damon says. “I’ve given him our account information. It’s all ready to go. You need to trust me, Q. We’ll get her back. We will.”
My knee shakes with anxiety all the way to the airport. I keep checking my phone, praying that Red calls us soon. If Damon is wrong, if the money doesn’t matter, then we need a location.
The chilly pre-dawn air bites our skin as Damon and I stand before Edward Sullivan’s office, a weathered neon sign flickering above the entrance. My breath escapes in misty puffs as I stare up at the sign.
Is this truly our saving grace?
Given the location of his office and the rundown exterior, I somehow find it difficult to believe he’s got half a billion dollars tucked away for a rainy day.
Damon told me on the plane that Edward is an old associate of his father’s.
I’m not at all surprised that Jonathon Cavanaugh became acquainted with someone who operates on the fringes of legality. Fits the bill, in my humble opinion.
As Damon knocks on the office door, I scan the building. It's average looking, nothing special. More fitting for an insurance agency than a shady headquarters of a fence. The door creaks open, revealing an older man with glasses, a housecoat, and slippers.
Edward Sullivan greets us with a lazy yawn. "I can’t say I’m pleased to be awake at such an ungodly hour," he mutters, squinting at us through the narrow opening. “Well, don’t just stand there. Get inside. It’s freezing.”
Damon doesn't bother with pleasantries as he strides through the threshold, his hand steady on my shoulder, almost as if to calm me.
The office is dimly lit, and the air smells musty, like an antique shop.
A desk cluttered with various forms and papers sits at the far end of the room, and Edward gestures for us to take a seat.
With a flick of the wrist, Damon unrolls a scroll of velvet fabric on the desk, revealing the Parlaut diamonds—necklace, earrings, and bracelet. The gems sparkle in the low light.
Edward scrunches his nose, adjusting his glasses as he inspects the diamonds with a jeweler's loupe. He leans in closer, his eyes narrowing, brows perked up as he examines each individual gem. I grow impatient as the minutes pass.
“How long is this going to take?” I grunt, checking my watch.
Edward’s milky gaze flicks up to me, and he scowls. “You are asking me for quite a large sum of money, sir. I intend to make sure that I’m not being cheated by a couple of pricks in couture.”
Damon snorts as I’m scolded by a man who could easily be my father, and so I elbow him in the kidney, shutting him up.
After nearly an hour, Edward puts down the jeweler's loupe, scrutinizing the Parlaut diamonds on his desk. "I will give you four hundred," he says, his voice steady.
Damon stiffens beside me as my jaw ticks at Edward’s offer.
"We agreed on five hundred," Damon grits out. “And that is what you will pay.”
Edward sighs. "In order for me to push them, I have to remove the stamps, serials, and then find buyers. It's a long and tedious process. Four hundred. That's my offer."
Damon's lip twitches. We can’t take four hundred. We need the full amount. We need five hundred million dollars. We can’t be short. Not a dollar. Not a fucking penny.
This bastard. This fucking twat.
Does he know what he’s doing? Does he know how important this transaction is? Does he know that someone could die? That she could die? Emery.
Our Emery.
No.
That can’t happen. That won’t happen!
Something snaps in me. A red haze clouds my vision, and I lose control. Without a second thought, I leap over the desk, my hands grabbing Edward by the collar of his housecoat.
Rage consumes me, and I yell, "You will pay the five hundred, you miserable piece of shit!"
Damon lurches forward, trying to peel me off of Edward. "Quin, stop! What the hell are you doing?"
My grip on Edward tightens, and I continue to growl at him. "We're not here to haggle, you dirty old man! This is not a fucking negotiation! You will pay five hundred million, or I swear to God, I'll make you regret this day for the rest of your pathetic fucking life!"
Edward’s eyes widen in fear, his glasses askew on his nose. I have no control. None. Anger rushes through my veins, blocking all reason, all sense of calm. My vision blurs as I expel heavy, ragged breaths.
“Quinton!” I barely hear his voice. “Quin!” A static whisper. “Quin!” Damon yanks on my shoulder, jolting me briefly away from the chaos of my mind. “Your phone.” He glances down at my pocket. “It’s ringing.”
“What?!” I fumble for my phone, my hands trembling. The screen lights up with Red's contact name. I answer, my voice hoarse and rocky. “Yes?”
"I got it."
"Where?" I demand, my chest pounding. “Where is she?!”
"She's in Sicily. A small town west of Palermo."
"Address," I breathe. "Give me the address.”
"I couldn't get that specific. Sarrano—that's the town. That's all I know." Red pauses. "Good luck, Quinton Marquis. I hope you find what you're looking for."
Damon's chest rises as he stares at me, and I hang up.
"She got it?" he asks, and I nod slowly, still in disbelief.
Damon turns toward Edward, teeth gritted, and he's no longer the mediator as he threatens the old man.
"Five hundred, Mr. Sullivan, or else I'll ensure those eyes are never able to inspect another diamond ever again. "
Edward swallows as he attempts to snap back. "You are not the only man with resources, Mr. Cavanaugh."
Damon's features darken. "Perhaps, but I am the only man with literally nothing to lose. I'll die over this, Sullivan. Can you say the same thing?"
It takes a minute, but Edward shakes his head, letting out a half-hearted laugh. "Jeez Louise, boys. Fine, five hundred. Sue me for trying to get a deal." He pulls out his phone, showing us the screen as he transfers the funds. Damon's phone dings as he receives the amount.
"Excellent," Damon says, nodding for us to leave. "May we never see you again." As we exit the office, he asks, "Where to?"
"Sicily."
Damon takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. "Let's go get our girl."