“And Emilee?”
He goes back behind his desk. “I don’t give a shit what she does.”
I’ve never asked what happened between them because I didn’t want to look like I cared. Maybe I should. “What if she starts the fire anyway?”
He opens his mouth and then shuts it. “Well … then I’d care. I don’t want the bastard dead. I want our money.”
“She seems desperate. Coming here had to take some balls. Rejection hurts.” He says nothing. “We could call up Luca,” I offer. “Cross helped him take out the Cathedral. We could pay the fire marshal off to do the same with the York’s residence.”
He sighs, running a hand down his face. “It wasn’t a bad idea, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. I don’t want her putting herself in danger.”
I arch a brow.
“What?” he asks, noticing.
“You know what.”
His jaw sharpens, and he looks away from me. “It’s not like that. We fucked. We moved on. Doesn’t mean I want her to kill herself in a house fire over fucking George.”
I say nothing.
“We have a meeting with him tonight.” He changes the subject.
“Since when?”
“That’s what he called about earlier. Wanted to plant a bug in my ear about Emilee and set up the meeting.”
“Since when did we start making house calls? Especially two?”
His jaw clenches again, and I can tell he’s irritated with this situation. And I know it’s because of Emilee. Any other time, he wouldn’t be so lenient with George. We’d be burying a body, not negotiating with it.
“Only you and I are going.” He ignores my question.
“What about Grave and Cross?”
“Grave won’t be able to sit down long enough to listen. And Cross has something to take care of.” He waves me off. “Go finish playing with the girls in your bed and then get ready.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
EMILEE
I PULL UP to the white stucco mansion and run up the stairs, passing the pillars and ring the doorbell. I get no answer and begin banging on the door. “Jasmine!” I shout. “I know you’re home. I see your car …”
The door swings open. “E.” She smiles at me. “What are you …?”
“I need a drink.” I shove past her.
“Well, you’ve come to the right place.” She closes the door. “Come on.”
I follow her through the foyer and down a hall. Then through another door that leads down to her father’s basement. Turning on the light, I walk over to the full bar and sit down on the barstool. I place my face in my hands. We used to come down here and drink all the time in high school. He never checked his inventory.
“Talk to me,” she urges.
“I need money,” I admit. “Lots of it.”
“How much?”
“A million would be a good start.” I give a rough laugh, trying not to cry at the situation I have found myself in.
“Okay.” I look up at her, and she places a full drink in front of me. “A million it is.”
I snort and pick up the glass. “I’m serious, Jasmine.”
“Me too. I’ll take it from my father and give it to you. I’ll tell him I went on a shopping spree.”
I shake my head. “Yeah, because that is believable.”
“E, I once spent over a million on a sculpture in a Gucci store in Milan. You should have seen his face when he read the credit card statement. Trust me. He’ll believe it.”
I take a sip of the drink still in my hand and hiss in a breath before sitting it down.
“What kind of trouble are you in?” she asks.
“It’s not me. It’s my mother,” I admit. “My father left George in charge of everything after he passed. He’s blackmailing me to have sex with him.” She gasps. “In order to pay my mother’s medical bills.”
“That motherfucker,” she hisses. “I never liked that bastard.”
“But come to find out, my mother is in love with him.”
Her eyes grow big.
“The worst part is that George owes the Kings half a million, and they want their money. He wants to offer me to the Kings as payment.” I take another gulp.
“The fuck?” she snaps.
“I just came from Kingdom. I met with Titan and Bones. I asked them to take the deal. Begged them actually. To buy me some time to kill George. But they denied me.” I look up at her, and she doesn’t look the least bit concerned about my confession. “I can sell my car. It’s paid for.” A present my parents gave me after graduating college before I moved to Chicago. But with the accounts frozen, I’m not even sure I’d be able to do that. The car’s in my father’s name. The process could take longer than I have. “After my apartment sells, I’ll have that as well. But I don’t have access to much right now.” I didn’t want to sell it now. That’s my escape plan. To run away back to Chicago after my mom passes, but I can’t afford not to get rid of them both.