I was hoping it would be the same for me. Alas, even knowing how much grief she’s brought into my life hasn’t altered my opinion of her. I’m as captivated by her as I was when she tried to hide her beauty with chunky boots and punk meal attire. I just can’t react to my impulses this time around. Until Fien is safe, business must come first.
My dreary thoughts snap back to the present when my father says, “She’ll fetch a few thousand a night. Call Mario, he’ll put her straight to work.”
He arches a bushy brow when I reply, “I want more than a few thousand for her. She’s untouched. Pure. The wholly fucking grail of womanhood.” My father tries to act disinterested, but I can smell the excitement slicking his skin. “She can cook. She had above-average grades in school and is obedient to a fault. I doubt it would take much to train her to her master’s specifications, but I’m also curious to discover if there’s a way I could profit off her more than once.” My words aren’t mine. I stole them from Roxanne’s father.
My father stares at me for several heart-thrashing seconds before he lowers his hooded gaze to Roxanne’s photo. “Has her purity been verified?”
“Yes,” I lie. “I attended her appointment in person. Moses could barely slip his index finger inside of her.”
When the waitress sets down my glass of whiskey, I raise it to my mouth, needing something to hide the clench of my jaw when the recognition I was seeking earlier darts through my father’s eyes. I’ve never met Moses. I merely used a name Roxanne’s father blurted out when I crucified his insolence one nail at a time.
He isn’t bound to a chair with rope anymore.
He’s nailed there.
My smirk slips when my father asks, “What were the results of her scan?”
I almost stumble, but the quickest memory of Ian blubbering about him not being able to afford a scan of Roxanne’s ovaries and uterus for the delay in her sale keeps my ruse authentic. “They were clear. She’s ready to breed.”
“Hmm…” He slouches low into his chair before twisting his lips. He hates the idea of trusting me, but since I’ve never given him any reason not to, he does. Thank fuck. “She’d make a decent profit by selling her virginity then putting her in the trade, but I think you’re right, the margin will be larger in another market.” Not willing to give away his trade secrets in front of people he considers lesser than him, he props his elbows onto the table wedged between us before leaning over to my half. “There are several ways you could do this. Where do your interests lie?”
“On whatever makes the most money.”
He huffs out a proud chuckle. That’s all my father cares about—money. “It does make the world go around.” After another laugh that’s more creepy than exciting, he asks, “Is she your only asset?”
“For now,” I lie again. “I have others in the works, but I figured I’d tip my toes into the water with her first, get a sense of the market. I’ve grown bored of the prostitution conglomerate. I need something fresh and exciting.” Don’t ask why my mind strayed to Roxanne during my last sentence. It just did. “But I’m out of my league here, Pops. I need a big gun to show me the way.” That fucking hurt to say. Every word was the equivalent of dragging a razor blade up my throat. It stung like a thousand bees, but it was extremely effective. I’ve never seen my father look as pompous as he does now.
“Let’s talk somewhere private. We can’t be sure our competition isn’t listening in.”
I down my whiskey in one hit before following his slide out of the booth. Its burn gives me an excuse for the heat on my cheeks when a ghost of my past flies back into my life on her witch’s broom.
Theresa Veneto was once in charge of the narcotics division at Ravenshoe PD. She’s also one of the female officers I mentioned who are willing to disregard drug distribution tips when she’s flat on her back being fed my dick. We played nice when we needed to. When we didn’t, things turned ugly.
I lost thirty thousand dollars in un-cut coke when she walked in on her deputy giving me head. That’s a street value of over two hundred thousand dollars. I didn’t take the hit in revenue well. If it weren’t for Audrey calling to tell me she was pregnant with Fien, Theresa wouldn’t have left Ravenshoe PD breathing.
Strands of long blonde hair fall onto Theresa’s shoulder when she leans in to place a kiss on the edge of my father’s mouth. “I thought we were dining alone tonight?”
A well brought up person would acknowledge her quiet tone as a wish to keep her conversation between my father and herself. I’m not close to normal. “Plans changed. You can see yourself out.”
When I click my fingers two times, demanding for one of my father’s goons to show Theresa the door, she locks her eyes with my father’s. “Col?” Shock filters across her attractive face when he doesn’t immediately jump to her defense. “We have business to discuss.”
“Yes, yes, I’m aware of why you’re here and what your nagging will entail.” My father’s snapped tone reveals he’s less than impressed with her whine. “But this can’t wait. Megan can.”
After dismissing Theresa with a wave of his hand, he commences walking toward the exit. I shadow his stalk, albeit a little slower. I’ve heard the name Megan before. It’s a common name, so that isn’t surprising, but it isn’t every day it’s mentioned in front of a cop who put a man away for life for the murder of a woman with the same name.
My father agreed to spare Justine’s life on the agreement Maddox would take the wrap for the murder of a local woman. Her name was Megan Shroud.
“Smith—”
“Cross-referencing all Megans who’ve had contact with your father and Theresa Veneto now. I’ll come back to you as soon as I have anything significant,” he says down the bead-size listening device in my ear.
Even though he can’t see me, I jerk up my chin before increasing the length of my strides. I reach my father just as he breaks through a group of people milling on the sidewalk. Worry that he overheard my brief conversation with Smith smacks into me when he grumbles under his breath, “I should have known he’d be around. He’s always meddling in business that has nothing to do with him.”
I’m about to defend Smith but lose the chance when my father tears away from my side. I curse into the cold night air when I spot who he’s making a beeline for. Isaac Holt is making his way out of a nightclub a few spots down from the venue my father’s function was held at. He’s clutching the hand of a pretty brunette with flushed cheeks and a wobbly stride.
I don’t know what my father says to Isaac when he reaches him, but it changes the expression on Isaac’s face in an instant. He’s wearing the same haunted look he had the night Ophelia and I organized for him to fight at our father’s underground fight circuit.
We rigged the fight schedule, knowing our father would never value Ophelia’s life enough not to use it as a bargaining chip. We were right. He offered her up as if she was worthless. We just had no clue CJ was fighting that night until it was too late.
Isaac won their match as anticipated, but his victory came at a cost I never anticipated. Ophelia didn’t handle his win well. She was so distraught seeing CJ lying bloody and lifeless on the boxing ring floor, she took her anger out on Isaac instead of our stupid ruse.