40. Gray
Gray
It’s odd to sit at my desk without her just outside my door, or standing in the doorway, berating me for being rude to one of my staff.
I stare at my phone, forcing myself not to call her. It’s only thirty minutes. There’s no reason to panic. But our last exchange on the terrace hangs over me like a shroud.
Why did I ask her about Monroe? Why didn’t I just keep my goddamn mouth shut?
By 9 a.m. I cave by messaging her to ask her to buy me a latte on the way to work. That never fails to piss her off, and my lips twitch as I recall the time she brought me my coffee, drank it in front of me, and then ordered me to go down on her all before 9:30.
I groan, leaning back in my chair. I’ve gotten nothing done this morning, and my inbox is exploding with emails that I should be answering. But I can’t concentrate on anything but the empty desk outside my office door.
Jax specifically told me that what she was dealing with in her private life wasn’t my concern.
I should have left it at that. But no, I had to go and blurt out to her brother that he needed to talk to her.
I couldn’t have made it clearer that I thought something might be going on.
Maybe she’s so pissed at me that she’s decided to quit.
The thought of that is so unpleasant it almost has me rising from my chair to go and find her.
The phone on my desk lights up as the shrill ringtone splits the air, and I grab it so fast I almost knock the whole thing off the surface.
“Jones,” I bark out.
“Uh, Mr. Jones? There’s a Flynn Jenson here to see you, but he doesn’t have an appointment. He’s making quite a scene downstairs.”
I can hear a loud voice in the background shouting to be allowed into the elevators. My fingers clench into a fist.
What the fuck is Jax’s brother doing here? Again.
“Send him up,” I say, replacing the handset and waiting for him to appear.
I only have to wait two or three minutes before I hear footsteps striding toward my office, and Flynn walks in, closing the door behind him. He looks so much like his sister in that moment that I can’t help staring at him.
Without a word, he comes to stand opposite my desk and glowers down at me as if I’ve personally insulted him.
“Good morning, Flynn,” I say evenly. “Can I help you with something?”
“I know what you used to do for a living,” he says softly, his eyes dark and menacing. Every muscle in my body tenses as I force myself not to react.
“Excuse me?”
“I’ve followed your career. Both the one in the papers and the one before. I know you started in casinos, and not always the good kind. Your businesses may be legit now, but you didn’t start out that way. Right?”
He’s vibrating with manic energy, his eyes moving to the huge sculpture of the dice beside my desk and back again.
“What are you implying?” I ask carefully.
“I’m implying that you’ve worked your way up from the bottom, just like me. I’ve done things I’m not proud of to get to where I am now. I’m hoping you did the same.”
“Hoping…?”
“I need your help.”
I remain as still as I can. It’s been a long time since I’ve been confronted with my past, and I didn’t expect that confrontation to come from Flynn Jenson of all people.
“Alright,” I say slowly. “I’m listening, but I don’t like being threatened, Flynn.”
“Believe me, I’m not threatening you. I don’t know a lot of rich men who got that way by being kind and generous.”
I lean forward in my chair. There are dark circles beneath Flynn’s eyes, and he looks strung out. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I suck in a slow breath, alarm spreading through my body. Something’s wrong.
“Start talking, Flynn.”
“Have you heard of a guy named Nick Monroe?”
Oh fuck. “Yes.”
“Are you aware of what’s going on with him and my family? Is that what you meant when you told me to ask her myself?”
“I don’t know the details.”
Flynn barely allows me to finish speaking before he’s leaning on my desk, eyes urgent.
“Do you know where I can find him? There was a time when you were building an empire just like his, from what I understand.”
“And where did you get that information exactly?” I ask coldly.
“My father knew a lot of people. It’s how I first heard about you, actually. Right at the beginning, when you had a choice, and you chose the high road. It was well known that they all expected you to fall flat on your face. And then you didn’t.”
I scoff. “It took a lot of hard work.”
“Do you know where Nick Monroe operates out of?”
“Why do you need to know?”
Flynn fidgets, then stands back up. “My brother Scott did something really fucking stupid. I think he may be in trouble, and I need to get him out.” His hand is twitching at his side, and he inhales shakily. “Plus, they took Jax.”
For a splintered second, I don’t see or hear anything else, as my mind goes blank. I’m on my feet before I’ve even processed what he’s said, rounding the desk.
“Why in fuck didn’t you lead with that?” I demand. “He took Jax? When? WHEN?”
Flynn flinches away from me as I back him up against the wall, his hands coming up defensively.
“Since when do you give a shit about her? She’s a hired f—"
He grunts as I grip his shirt and lift him up the wall. His feet are dangling freely as I press him back against the hard surface, white-hot rage coursing through me.
“You shut your fucking mouth, Flynn, do you understand me? You want my help, you ask for it, but don’t talk about your sister like that. Not to me. Not ever.”
“I—I thought—”
“Yeah? Well, you thought wrong.”
I drop him back to the floor and stalk out of my office as he scrambles to his feet and runs after me.
I walk past Jax’s desk, trying my best not to look at it as something sharp and vicious claws at my insides, trying to break free.
It feels a lot like panic, and that emotion isn’t going to help anyone right now.
The receptionist watches us pass him, neon hair shining in the bright ceiling lights.
“I’m out for the day,” I snap at him. “Send my calls to Fran Morgan until you hear from me. Email anything else important.”
“Yes, Mr. Jones,” he trills back, his eyes following Flynn curiously as we reach the elevators.
Once we step inside, I spin around, counting slowly to ten, trying to figure out what our next move is.
He won’t hurt her. Not yet. Not if there’s something he wants.
As the doors slide closed, I see my own face reflected back at me in the shiny surface. Flynn looks small at my side, worried and afraid. But I don’t recognize my face, it’s an expression I haven’t worn for a long, long time.
If Monroe hurts her, I’ll kill him with my bare hands.
“How much does he want?” I ask.
Flynn blinks, wincing. “Over two hundred thousand, it’s not—”
“How much cash do you have at your club?”
There’s a short, nerve-jangling pause before he replies. “Around fifty grand. No more.”
“Fine,” I pull out my phone, firing off a message to my private banker. “We stop there on the way.”
“I have a gun,” Flynn whispers, his eyes shifting around the confined space to the camera in the corner.
“How much have they already paid him?” I say, ignoring him, my voice hollow.
“Ten percent, or around that figure. The fucker just told them it would barely cover the interest.”
I snort. “Yeah, that sounds like Nick.”
“You do know him.” It isn’t a question, and I don’t reply immediately.
“He’s an inherently lazy man. I haven’t met your brother, but I’m assuming this isn’t Scott’s first foray into gambling?”
“Not even close.”
“Nick likes his targets gullible. He was probably watching him, finding out what his weaknesses are. He’ll have seen him coming a mile away.”
“I’m prepared to give him what he wants,” Flynn says. “He’s holding my family hostage; I don’t have a lot of choice.”
“That’s exactly where he wants you.”
“I didn’t come to you because I want your money,” Flynn says, puffing out his chest. “I just need to find him.”
My phone pings with a message from my banker, a very unpleasant individual who has been managing my investments for years. But he’s reliable, and he can get anything done quickly for the right price.
“We need to make a stop on the way, and then we’ll head to your club to clear out your safe.”
“Where are we going?” he asks me, eyes wide.
To save the woman I love.
“You’ll see.”