Chapter Eight #2
You don’t have to like the man to get into bed with him. Since when is that a prerequisite? You’ve done plenty of business with his kind.
Every man has an Achilles’ heel, and I don’t like that I’ve been in his company for an hour, and I still haven’t been able to figure out what Noah Sr.’s is.
How does he get his kicks?
Does he like knowing his sons will suffer when he has the power to stop it?
Is he the kind of man who would let the world burn to satisfy his wounded pride?
“I can see I have your attention,” he adds. “Think about all the things we can do together. This city is ripe for the taking, Mr. Payne, and we are the kind of businessmen it needs.”
“You seem to be mistaken about the kind of business I do.”
Noah Sr. shakes his head. “Not at all. I know who you are, and the kind of business you run, and I’ve been trying to find an in for years.”
Why don’t I trust him?
Because you can’t trust a man who doesn’t care about anything. They’re too volatile, wild, and unpredictable, and there’s no telling what they’ll do to stay ahead.
I pity Noah and his brother for winding up with him for a father.
“I can see you need some time to think this through.” Noah Sr. motions to the waiter, reaches into his pocket, and takes out a card. “I’ve already made the call, Mr. Payne. I must admit Ryder’s story on you made for an interesting read. These stories tend to sell well. It’s a pity.”
I level Noah Sr. with a withering look.
Noah Sr. makes a vague hand gesture. “In any case, the story Ryder was working on has been… taken care of. Of course, there’s a possibility Ryder has backed up his files somewhere secure, but I’ll leave that to you to figure out.”
Noah Sr. pushes his chair back with a screech and stands up. The waiter returns with his card, and he puts it away. “I’m glad your special friend put in a good word for me.”
I almost choke on my drink. “Excuse me?”
“Oh, don’t worry. I have no interest in her beyond getting a foot in the door, and she’s done that and more.”
My drink tastes bitter, and I have the sudden urge to track London down and shake some sense into her.
Or lock her in my room for the rest of her days.
But neither of those will get me what I want, and I doubt they’ll make London see reason.
Fucking hell.
Why would she reach out to Noah Sr.?
It’s like she’s trying to make the target on her back bigger.
“I always thought she was too good for my son,” he continues, “but there’s no accounting for taste.”
I press my lips together and say nothing.
He clears his throat. “Call me when you’re ready to do business. I look forward to seeing you again, Mr. Payne.”
Without waiting for a response, he spins on his heels and leaves.
In the car, I make a few phone calls, growing more suspicious by the minute.
Then, I lower the partition between us and issue rapid-fire instructions to Katia, who doesn’t look fazed as she listens.
A few blocks away from the restaurant, she gets out of the car and disappears into the shadows.
Another of my men is waiting for us at the end of the street, and he climbs into the passenger seat next to my driver.
“We need to make one more stop before we go back.” I put my phone away and smile. “It’s not too far.”
A few minutes later, we drive up to one of the Fitzpatrick warehouses, and I lower the window.
I start firing at random, and all hell breaks loose.
Several men dive for cover, and a few reach for their guns too late.
There’s a cacophony of voices, and my man hits a few boxes scattered on the ground, sending splinters of wood and glass in every direction.
More voices grow in confusion and anger as I fire off a few more rounds, feeling better than I have in weeks.
I stop, and slide the window back up.
A moment later, the tires screech, and we drive off into the darkness.
Before we round the corner, I allow myself another look at the carnage, and it’s almost worth the hell I’m going to get from my father.
A while later, the wrought-iron gates shudder to life, and my father is waiting on the front steps of the manor when we pull up.
I don’t say anything as I stroll past him and into the study.
Jack shuts the door behind him and turns to face me in a rage. “The only explanation I have for your behavior tonight is that you’re suffering from delirium.”
I pour myself a drink. “Not to my knowledge.”
Jack advances on me, his eyes glittering dangerously. “Have you learned nothing in the past few months? What were you hoping to accomplish by attacking the warehouse?”
I shrug. “I hadn’t thought of it.”
Jack stops opposite my desk and takes out his dagger. “You’d better hope that your meeting with the mayor went well, or I’ll take care of you personally.”
“It went fine. You two would get along.”
Jack throws a dagger at me, and it lodges itself in the wall behind my head. “Stop testing my patience, boy, or I’ll finish what our enemies should have.”
I down my drink and offer him a bored look. “Noted. Was there anything else?”
Jack storms out of the study, and I stare at the space he occupied with a hollow ache in my chest.
Sometime later, I make my way to my room, where I find London half-asleep on a chair by the window. She startles awake when the door shuts and stands up, her fingers moving to rub her eyes. Then, she stifles a yawn.
“I was going to come looking for you.”
My fingers move to the buttons of my shirt, and I raise an eyebrow. “Were you?”
London nods, a little too quickly. “Yes, there’s something I wanted to tell you.”
She stops rubbing her eyes and looks at me. “It didn’t happen on purpose, but I ran into Noah’s father when I was… out.”
I let my shirt fall to the floor, and my pants follow soon after. “I see.”
“He seemed to be under the impression that I could arrange an introduction,” London continues, her eyes widening as my boxers join the heap on the floor. “But I made it clear that I’m not going to get involved.”
“I was just with Noah’s father. He told me all about the meeting.”
London swallows. “I don’t know what he told you, but—”