For the next two hours, they negotiated back and forth, sharing minor details about their organizations. Gramps held out for more product for less money, but in the end, Coke was more than satisfied. He believed he’d just procured several million dollars in return for Gramps being the only distributor in the Dallas area. It was all bullshit, but Coke would hopefully never find out . . . since he’d be dead.
This kind of mission was unheard of for Silverstone. Their usual MO was to sneak in and ambush their target and get the hell out. Sitting down, negotiating a bogus deal, and coming face to face with the enemy was certainly out of the ordinary. But it was working . . . so far.
Gramps still had to secure Cassidy’s and Mario’s releases. Coke wasn’t going to let him just walk out with them, not without more negotiations. But Gramps was confident he could buy them. The man was obsessed with money, and getting another couple million bucks for two people he didn’t give a shit about would be hard for him to resist. Or so Gramps hoped. If necessary, Bull was ready to provide a distraction so Gramps could just get out of the mansion with Cassidy and Mario.
He’d just opened his mouth to ease into the topic of money when there was a commotion outside the door. Recognizing Cassidy’s voice, Gramps stood.
The door flew open, and Cassidy was there, Lloyd on her heels. He grabbed her arms, holding her so tightly she couldn’t wrench herself out of his grasp.
“Where is he?” she yelled.
Coke merely raised an eyebrow.
“Mario! Where is he? Lloyd told me he’s missing! That you sent him out on a job and he’s disappeared. I want my son!”
It took everything within Gramps to keep his mouth shut, to not reassure Cassidy. He forced himself to sit back down on the leather couch, taking Coke’s lead. The other man hadn’t even flinched with the interruption. Hadn’t moved from his spot on the couch.
“How should I know?” Coke asked. “I’ve been here all day.”
“But you sent him out to deliver drugs! I know you did!” Cassidy screeched.
Coke sighed. “Women. So dramatic,” he told Gramps.
Gramps forced himself to nod nonchalantly. Cassidy was completely losing her shit. For a slightly panicked moment, he wondered why she would do anything to jeopardize her rescue—then it hit him.
He hadn’t told her that Smoke was tailing her son. That he wouldn’t let anything happen to him. She knew they had a plan, but he hadn’t shared any of the specifics. She was risking everything out of desperation and love for her son.
This scene was definitely a hitch in their plans, but Gramps didn’t let any of his thoughts show on his face. The others were listening; they’d go with the flow and change up the plan if necessary.
“Let me go! I need to go look for him!” Cassidy yelled at Lloyd as she struggled in his grasp, to no avail.
“She seems a little high strung, no?” Coke observed.
“It’s her Hispanic heritage.” Gramps smirked. “In bed, it’s glorious. When she’s riding my cock, it’s a thing of beauty. Now . . . not so much.”
“It’s okay. I’ve got something to calm her down,” Coke said as Cassidy ignored them, continuing to fight Lloyd. Coke put his glass on a table next to him and stood.
Gramps did as well. He opened his mouth to protest, but Coke was already moving toward Cassidy. He detoured to the liquor cabinet and pulled a syringe out of a drawer. It sickened Gramps that he had something like that so handy, ready to go at a moment’s notice.
Coke strolled up to Cassidy, grabbed her jaw in his hand, and squeezed hard.
Cassidy whimpered in pain but stopped pulling against Lloyd.
“You disappoint me, Ms. Hewitt. I had such high hopes for you. You’ve been such a good employee all these years.” He made a tsk sound before continuing. “But outbursts won’t be tolerated. Mario belongs to me now. What happens to him is no concern of yours anymore. He’ll do what I say, when I say it. Mommy can’t protect him any longer. Do you understand?”
“No! We aren’t slaves. You don’t own us!” Cassidy cried, the desperation easy to hear in her tone.
“Wrong. I do own you. And if I were you, I’d be a little nicer to me and my staff.” Coke turned to Gramps. “G, you want to do the honors?”
“What is it?” Gramps asked. His mind was going a million miles an hour, trying to figure a way out of this fucked-up situation. He regretted not telling Cassidy this part of the plan. He’d wanted to keep her in the dark as much as possible for her own protection. But he’d screwed up. He should have at least told her Mario would be safe at all times. If he had, she wouldn’t be in this situation. Wouldn’t have risked her life to confront Coke.
“Flunitrazepam,” Coke told him.
Gramps nodded. He didn’t want to drug Cassidy, and would do whatever was necessary to prevent Coke from injecting her with meth or cocaine, but giving her a roofie wouldn’t hurt her in the long run. He hoped. “I approve,” he told Coke. “I’ve roofied a few girls in my time. I prefer them to be conscious and actively participating when I fuck them, but in my youth, I experimented with the date-rape drug. It’s very effective.”
Coke nodded. “It’s my preference. I don’t like when they fight—it’s too much work. Give me a nice unconscious girl to take how I want any day.”
Gramps felt sick as he walked toward Coke and a still struggling Cassidy. He took the syringe from the other man and made the mistake of meeting Cassidy’s gaze.
Regret swam in her eyes. She knew she’d messed up.
“I’m sorry,” she mouthed subtly.
Gramps knew he needed to get this done before she said something that would get them both killed. Coke and Lloyd wouldn’t hesitate to kill them if they suspected for a second he wasn’t who he said he was. Gramps had seen the pistol inside Coke’s jacket earlier, and Lloyd had a weapon in clear sight on his hip.
He lifted the syringe and, as gently as he could—which was difficult because she was still jerking in Lloyd’s grip—sank the needle into her upper arm.
“No!” Cassidy wailed. Her pupils had dilated, and panic set in.
Gramps didn’t answer, just prayed the drug would act fast and end this torture for them both.
“Please don’t hurt Mario—he’s innocent!” she begged Coke. “He’s only a kid!”
“And he’s mine,” Coke said with no compassion at all. “Take her away.”
“Can I give her to my men?” Lloyd asked.
Coke waved him off. “Don’t care.”
“Wait,” Gramps requested.
Cassidy was sagging in Lloyd’s grasp now, her eyes glazed over, and it was obvious she was no longer really with them.
“I was going to talk to you about her,” Gramps told Coke. “Make a deal for her.”
“What kind of deal?” Coke asked at the same time Lloyd began to protest.
Coke held up his palm to his head of security, effectively shutting him up.
“A monetary one,” Gramps said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve found a woman who gives it to me so good. Call it nostalgia for my homeland, but I’d be willing to buy her from you.”