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“You’re very odd,” he muses as he collects a cigar from a wooden box that’s on his desk.
“Most people think so,” I admit. Blaise being one of those people. “But I’m guessing that, compared to you, I’m probably pretty ordinary.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” He strikes a match and lights up the cigar. Then he takes a few puffs while resting back in the chair. “Just for the record, I don’t refer to myself as a mobster. In fact, the term isn’t accurate for what I do.”
I mentally roll my eyes. Sure he isn’t. And one day, I’m going to learn to sit with my legs crossed and say excuse me when I burp.
But I decide to play along. “Then what are you?”
He brings the cigar to his lips, smoke lacing the air. “I like to think of myself as an entrepreneur.”
“An entrepreneur who runs a bunch of illegal gambling clubs?” I mentally want to smack myself.
Stop saying stuff without thinking, Hadley! Your mouth is going to get you in trouble. Again.
Silence chokes the air as he puffs on his cigar with his interrogating gazed fixed on me. “You’ve done some research on me. I’m wondering why.”
“For kicks and giggles,” I say with a shrug, but my pulse races as fast as my Goddamn car when I’m drag racing.
His brow meticulously arches. “You sure about that?”
“Yep,” I say matter-of-factly. When he stares me down hard, my toughness starts to crumble. “Okay, fine. Honestly, I was trying to dig up some dirt on your sons and stuff about you popped up, too.”
He doesn’t appear the slightest bit surprised. “Well, you should know that not everything you read online is always accurate.” He stands with the cigar in his hand. “But your curiosity in my sons isn’t important nor relevant to why I brought you here.” He strolls over to a window and stares at the acres of land just outside. “As I’m sure you already know, your father has gotten himself into a bit of trouble.”
I swallow hard. Here we go. “Yeah, I’m aware of that.”
His gaze flicks in my direction. “Do you understand why he’s in trouble, though?”
While Blaise explained some of the details to me, I’m not about to tell this guy anything that might get my dad in even more trouble.
I shake my head. “Not really.”
He scrutinizes me closely. “I’m not sure if you’re telling the truth or not, and I find it unsettling.” He turns to face me. “Usually, I’m very good at reading people.”
“Sorry.” Not really.
No, right now I’m super grateful for my ability to act indifferent in the snap of a finger.
“I’m sure you are.” He walks back across the room, balances the cigar in the ashtray then sits down on the edge of his desk. “I guess it doesn’t really matter. I didn’t bring you here to find out if you knew about what your father’s been up to.”
“Okay… Then why’d you bring me here?”
He gives a long, heart-faltering pause. “You’re kind of bold for someone so young. Or stupid, depending on how you want to look at it.”
“Maybe a bit of both,” I offer with a shrug.
“Perhaps.” He taps his fingers against his knee. “The question is: how can I use that trait to my benefit?”
I curl my fingers inward. “Why would you need to use the trait at all?”
“Because right now your father owes me five years worth of labor. And if I don’t get those five years of labor, I’m going to be very upset.”
“Well, I wish I could help you, but I don’t know where he is.” I inch toward the door, more than ready to get out of here.
“I figured as much.” He stands up and stalks toward me. “But again, that’s not why I brought you here.”
“You keep saying that.” My back bumps against the door. Shit. “But you still haven’t said why you brought me here.”
He stops just short of me. “Because your father also double-crossed me.” His calm voice chills into iciness, his expression hardening. “Do you know what I do to people who double-cross me?”
“Give them a citation?” I offer, sticking my hand behind me and wrapping my fingers around the doorknob.
I’ve got to get out of here.
“Unfortunately, no.” He has the audacity to sound apologetic. “Unfortunately, the punishment has to be more severe or else no one who works for me will respect me. And you can’t run a successful business without respect. Remember that if you ever start your own business.”
I relax a smidgeon. He just referred to my future, which means that maybe I still have a one.
“Okay,” I manage to say evenly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
He assesses me with too much interest. “You’re an interesting character. Bold and either clever or stupid—I can’t figure out which. I think I can use that to my advantage, which is a good thing for both of us.”
“And why’s that?” I ask as he crosses the room back to his desk.
“Because if you didn’t have any useful traits, I’d have to punish your father another way.” He picks up a small, black box from off the desk that’s about the size of a shoebox and holds it out to me. “I want you to take this and hold onto it for me. When the time is right, you’re to open it. Understand?”
No freakin’ way am I going to take a mysterious box from some mobster dude in question.
I start to shake my head, but he cuts me off, lifting his hand in front of him.
“This isn’t up for discussion. Either you take the box, or I’ll have one of your sisters do it.”
He knows my kryptonite.
Swallowing down a shaky breath, I hurry across the room and snatch the box from him. “How will I know when to open it?”
“You just will.’ He gives me the most vague answer ever. “Until then, do not look inside it. Understand?”
Okay, what the hell is in the box? Drugs? Money? Someone’s freakin’ finger?
“Sure, I understand.” I resist the urge to shake the box, but dammit, I want to.
“Good.” The phone on his desk rings. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to take this call. If you go down to the entryway, my driver will be there to take you to your car.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, then whirl around and haul ass for the door, beyond ready to get the hell out of here. And if I’m lucky, I’ll never have to come back.
As if sensing exactly where my thoughts are at, Mr. Porterson calls out, “This isn’t completely over yet. I’ll be in touch, Hadley Harlyton. Very soon.”
Dammit!
I slip out of the room without uttering a damn word, wanting more than anything to throw the box at the wall and sprint out of the house without looking back. But since Mr. Porterson threatened to go after my sisters, I don’t have a choice but to remain cool and cooperative.
What I’d really like to know is how he found out my sisters were my weak spot. In fact, he seemed to know a lot about me. So, who has he been talking to? My da
d? Maybe. Or maybe one of the Porterson brothers has been feeding daddy dearest information about the girls next door.
“Wait just a second.” Mr. Porterson’s voice abruptly echoes from down the hallway. “There’s a couple of things I still need to talk to you about.”
So damn close.
Grinding to a stop, I reluctantly turn. He’s standing in the doorway and the first thing I notice is his holster is empty.
I swallow the fear welling in my throat. “Like?”
He curls his finger at me. “Not out here. We need some privacy.”
I damn near vomit on the floor, wishing I had my phone to call for help.
Wishing my father wasn’t such an asshole.
Blaise
When I arrive at school, I search for Hadley’s car in the parking lot, but I don’t spot it anywhere. I tell myself not to text her yet. That she’s probably still out driving and blowing off some steam. That I can wait a little bit before I start texting her like a paranoid freak.
I wish I wasn’t like this, so worried all the damn time. It kind of comes with the territory of the environment I was raised in. My siblings and I had no stability and never felt safe. Because of that, I turned into a worrier.
Just calm down. Give her a minute to get here, I tell myself as I make my way to my locker to collect my books.
Hadley and I have first class together and by the time the final bell rings, she still hasn’t shown up. Jaxon is in the class too and is seated in the desk across from mine. He’s two grades below me, but the kid is smart and takes advanced classes. He also spends all the time he doesn’t talk with his nose in a book, which is a lot of effing time. I wish I could send him to the elite school over in Sunnyvale, but that’d mean asking our dad for money. And while I’d swallow down my pride and do so, Jaxon refuses to ask my dad for anything. None of my brothers or sister are fans of my dad. Even Alex hates him, which is why it makes no sense that he’s always spending time with the lowlifes who work for our father.
“Have you seen Hadley?” I whisper to him.
