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And then he opens his fist and the belt falls slack between us. I sway to my right, and he slides from his chair, landing on his knees beside me. His arms are around me, and one broad hand cradles my head. He leans against the rattan chaise, bracing his back against it, and he pulls me onto his lap and he holds me, shelters me, keeps me safe from any harm.
I’m his good girl.
I’m his princess.
I’m Alix.
And I’m where I want to be forever.
14
TRAP
* * *
Two more days go by. One week now till the brothers’ deadline, and I’m no closer to a solution. No negotiated peace. No guarantee I won’t be on the hook for fucking life.
I keep hearing Kelly’s voice inside my head:You need more manpower.
But calling in Sawgrass is the nuclear option. Those guys don’t fuck around. They’ll take out the brothers and leave behind a shitload of collateral damage.
The Herzogs’ security won’t go down without a fight. And taking out the brothers in their Long Island fortress will call down every cop in the county. Hell, with their connections, they might own law enforcement throughout New York state. They could have the feds in their back pockets too.
The one weapon I have is too fucking big. It’s the goddamn definition of “mutually assured destruction”.
So, even though I’m running out of time and I feel like I’m trying to cross a frozen lake on roller skates, I search for an alternative.
I schedule a meeting with my banker.
I already know the answer before he delivers the news. The only way I can manage a billion-dollar payout is to put up the freeport as collateral. And if I was desperate enough to try that, I’d torpedo my entire business empire. My clients aren’t the type who want their business disclosed in loan documents.
I go over the freeport’s vacancies. That demand I can actually meet—a container’s worth of space. I could give the brothers Klaus’s gallery, carve out another one on the same floor, even two.
But I refuse to cross that bridge.
My clients aren’t angels. The freeport holds plenty of stolen goods—Klaus’s paintings are only the tip of the fucking iceberg. I’d be astonished if half the vehicles in the pristine garage have valid registrations. I know one client is storing liquor that’s never been taxed and another could never come up with sales papers on his collection of rare watches.
I’m fucking excellent at looking the other way.
But it’s one thing to close my eyes to theft and fraud. It’s another to aid and abet the distribution of Schedule I controlled substances that have been specifically designed to target the brains of helpless, developing kids.
Fuck. I only got into this situation because Alix’s brother was addicted to the shit. If that asshole hadn’t fucked up his life, who knows what might have happened with Alix and me? She could’ve come home with me from Debasement, spent the night blowing my fucking mind, and stuck around for the intervening three years so I could repay the favor—over and over and over again.
No. I’m not turning Diamond Freeport into a drug distribution center, no matter what the motherfucking Herzogs demand.
And even though this shit is keeping me up nights, I can’t ignore my entire goddamn business plan, just becauseI’mhanging in the wind. The Diamond Ring’s monthly meeting is scheduled for Saturday night.
Weeks ago, I told Susan Richards what I want, and she’s made it happen. A chartered yacht with at least one sound-proof room and a Faraday cage to block electronic transmission. Private access to a dock on the bay. Guards to watch a few million dollars worth of cars while we’re on board. A Michelin three-star chef to create a world-class meal.
And a quarter million dollar buy-in, no-limit night of Texas hold ’em.
I give Alix the choice of joining us, but she opts out. And I can’t really blame her.
We set sail at seven. Braiden Kelly is the first man aboard. He greets me with a handshake that puts the Beast on alert. “How’s our girl?” he asks, like he and I have been friends since high school. Or maybe like he thinks of Alix as his sister.
I shrug, because he already knows I need to take down the Herzog brothers. The rest of the Ring will find out tonight. I can’t get through this meeting without letting them know the danger they’re in if the video gets out.
I’m spared coming up with a more complete answer because Carl Braxton strides up the gangplank. He’s followed by Gage Rider and half a dozen others in short order. Cole Wolf is the last to arrive. He pulls into the guarded lot, driving a familiar Mercedes, the car he bought off Herzog’s corpse to ward off awkward inquiries about the slimeball’s arrival at the freeport.
