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The atmosphere thickens, all eyes on Brad as he stands abruptly and starts pacing. “I’m sure you’ve heard, you immoral piece of shit, that we’re famous for having issues with men who abuse, rape, and traffic women.”
“Ah, yes. I’ve heard. Something to do with The Brit’s wife, yes? My Russian friend did mention you may be averse to returning what’s rightly mine. Hence, I took your boy.” He pauses, and I lower my arse to the desk, willing myself to stay put. “Sandy also alluded to a certain fondness for The Brit’s wife.”
Oh, he did not. I’m across the office like an arrow, swiping the phone from Brad’s hand. “You listen to me, you—” It’s quickly removed, and Brad’s got a palm pushed into my chest to keep me at arm’s length.
King’s torturous laugh down the line fills the room. “I’m hitting nerves left and right today. Where’s The Enigma? Is he there? I don’t want him to feel left out. My Russian friend sends his regards. Wants you to know he’s looking forward to a little one-on-one time with the ex-cop once you’re dealt with. I’ve told him I’ll lend him my fishing kit.”
Fuck. Me.
I blow out my cheeks as James sinks deeper into his chair, silent. But the evil splashed across his face? Does this piece of shit know what he’s doing? Who he’s dealing with? For the first time Brad appears together, while James and I restrain our rampant rage. He pulls his phone out of his pocket while keeping Pearl’s at his ear. Stares down at the screen.
He walks to my desk and pulls a pad out of the drawer, writing something and holding it up.
We need to talk to Richard Bean.
I feel my forehead bunch but still hold a hand up to Ringo, who quickly leaves, Goldie in tow.
“What do you want, King?” Brad asks, going to the couch and lowering next to James.
“Are you deaf? I want my niece.”
“I think you want money more.”
He hums, laughing lightly. “I am partial to a dollar or . . . two hundred million of them.”
I balk at Brad. He remains impassive. “Two . . . hundred million?” he repeats.
“That is correct.”
“I thought the deal with the Poles was for one hundred million.”
“That was before you caused me this inconvenience. And now I have your son and you don’t want me to supply the enemy.”
“Two hundred million,” Brad says calmly. “For the girl, my son, and no supplies.”
“Two hundred million,” King confirms.
Two hundred fucking million? I blow out my cheeks. Start sweating.
“I want proof of life,” Brad says.
“You got it,” King replies in a shitty American accent. “I want to see my pumpkin.”
“Absolutely no deal.”
“Fine, no deal.” There are a few rustles. He’s hanging up?
“Wait,” Brad barks, every inch of him stiff. “Why? Why do you want to see her?”
“I have something for her. A goodbye gift.”
“What?”
“She’ll know. Besides, I would like to see her one last time. Say goodbye. We became rather close since her parents died.”
“I’ll send you the arrangements.” Brad hangs up and chews the edge of Pearl’s mobile for a few moments, thinking, while we all wait. Impatient.
“Brad?” I snap, palms facing the ceiling. “What the fuck? Two hundred million?”
