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I stood, fixed my belt, and popped my button back in place.
Minnie: Setting something up for you now. I’ll be in touch.
Good.
I pushed the chair back against the table and left. I slowed my pace as I heard someone yelling down the other hall.
“Who’s in there?” I asked one of the guards.
“Mr. Tame has a client meeting.” He paused and grabbed a tablet that had a record of who was where and when. “Mr. Griple.”
I knew it wouldn’t be wise to be around Cameron at that point. I couldn’t be trusted with how pent-up I was. But I needed to channel my rage somewhere and could use a good fight. As I got close to the door, I could hear his client’s anger. Nice to hear Cameron was getting it from somewhere else. Lord knew the asshole deserved it.
“You promised you had this handled, Cameron! I trusted you.”
“I can fix this.”
“Fix this how? He’s dead, and last I checked, you can’t bring people back from the dead.”
“I can find someone to take his place.”
“We go to trial soon!” the man screamed louder. “So help me God, you have no idea what kind of shit I have coming your way if we don’t win this. If we don’t win?—”
He stopped when I opened the door, and I stared down at the man in the high-priced Italian suit.
“Can I help you?” he snapped but did a double take when he looked at me.
“Yeah, by getting the hell out of my hotel.”
He swallowed and reined himself in. “Mr. Grim Gates,” he nodded tightly, “I didn’t recognize you.” That, I doubted. Not many were tattooed from head to foot. “I was just leaving.”
“Good idea.”
“Mr. Tame,” he turned to Cameron, “watch your back.” He stormed out, and I crossed my arms at Cameron.
“Mind your business, Grim. I have it covered.”
“The fuck you say to me, old man?”
“I can’t do this right now.” He waved for me to leave, and I felt my need to kill someone course through my body. I slammed the door shut and turned to him.
“I think you need a reminder of who the hell I am and that one day I’ll own the hotel you work for.”
Kenna
I slid my purse farther up my arm as I hurried through the back hallways and opened the door to where Dale was putting the final touches on a lunch plate.
“Hey,” I sidestepped a girl with a tray, “here’s Yen’s request for his meal.”
“You could’ve sent it to me like always.” He ground some fresh pepper over a salad then wiped the side of the plate clean to ensure it looked perfect. “What’s up?”
“Nothing.”
He looked over his shoulder. “Out with it.”
“You know that blonde who’s always hanging out with that Ron look-alike from Jersey Shore, down by the cabanas?”
“Blonde? Oh, you mean Starbi.”
