“I’m unfortunately aware.”
“How?” He arches a brow. “Have you met her before today?”
Fuck.“No. I was just agreeing to be agreeable.”
“Interesting.” He looks like he doesn’t believe me, but there’s no way in hell I’m addressing anything Scarlett-related for the rest of the day.
“Go ahead and tell me everything you need my firm to work on for you, Lucas,” I say, taking a seat. “Don’t skip over any details.”
“I would never.” He sits across from me, tapping his fingers against the wood-grain table like usual, taking his precious time as if his is more valuable than mine.
“An undercover detective is watching my every move these days,” he says finally. “Actually, there are three of them.”
“I’m sure you’re not surprised by that.”
“I’m not.” He smiles. “But with these new charges and three of my real men having to lay low for a while, I need some new people I can trust.”
“This is alaw firm, Lucas,” I say. “Not a staffing agency.”
“I need you to see to it that no one gets in trouble when these undercover detectives are mysteriously beaten to within an inch of their lives sometime this weekend.”
Jesus Christ...I stare at him.
“It’s been quite fun toying with them and pretending like I don’t know what they’re up to,” he says, “but I have a real empire to run, and I can’t afford to waste any more time.”
“I told you to stop giving me advance notice on you committing crimes.” I hold back a sigh. “I like to pretend that you’re somewhat innocent.”
“I am.” He smiles. “I’ve never been convicted of a crime. I don’t even have a parking ticket.”
“Is that all you need?” I ask. “Help with assault charges?”
“If they get caught.”
They will…
“Fine. Anything else?”
“Two more things.” He nods and pulls out something from his breast pocket, sliding it to me.
“First, I think someone might be stealing from my daughter,” he says. “I think that?—”
“Today’s the first day I’m realizing you have a daughter.” I can’t help but interrupt. “I know about your sons, but you’ve never mentioned her once. Why?”
“Because she’s a disappointment.” There’s a harshness in his tone. “At least, she has been for a while, and I don’t like discussing my weaknesses.”
I sit up, slightly offended and confused at the same time.
“My daughter—unfortunately—is a naive dreamer who still sees the world in black and white.” He shakes his head. “She has no idea about the grayness you and I operate in, and she thinks she still has a chance at being a stage actress someday.”
“She doesn’t?”
“Funny, Mr. Tate.” He flexes his fingers. “You think any family member of mine could ever be in the public eye?”
There’s no need for me to answer that question.
“Anyway,” he says, picking up where he left off, “a couple checks I sent to her for books and such were cashed at some check-cashing place with a floating address. I need you to look into it, so I can make sure this person never tries me again.”
“This person” is your daughter…“I’ll get Rachel on that right away.”
