Priest clenched his teeth so hard his jaw hurt.
“Oh, sounds like I hit a nerve. He really is someone special. I thought he might be after seeing the texts between you. By the way, who’s Robbie?”
Priest’s blood ran cold. “None of your fucking business.”
“Well, if you want to keep it that way, I suggest you do what I say. Or I’ll make it my business.”
With every word out of Jimmy’s mouth, the desire Priest had to make him suffer intensified, and he had plenty of words.
“Good boy. You know,” Jimmy said as though shooting the shit with a longtime friend, “I had such plans to be a model prisoner. To do things right, to secure my freedom—”
“By turning rat,” Priest interjected. “How noble.”
“By giving up information that important people wanted,” Jimmy said. “But then someone had to go and fuck it all up by leaking it to the press.”
Priest didn’t respond as Jimmy got all caught up in his tale of woe. A true narcissist, he loved talking about himself and hearing his own voice. Plenty of profilers over the years had studied him, and that fact was always at the top of the list.
“I wanted back my rightful place in New Orleans, just like the old days,” Jimmy went on. “But after that happened, I knew it was only a matter of time before—”
“Someone tried to kill you,” Priest said, knowing his only chance of getting any information on Julien would be to keep this fucker talking.
Jimmy snorted. “Probably would’ve succeeded, too, but fate stepped in and showed me a different way.”
Priest was afraid to ask.
“It showed me you.”
That made Priest want to retch. “I don’t give a fuck about you or fate.”
“No?” Jimmy said, and then his voice took on a disturbing edge. “You should, if you give a fuck about Mr. Thornton.”
Priest’s entire body vibrated with rage at hearing Julien’s name on his father’s tongue. “Quit with the dance, Jimmy. What do you want?”
“A reunion with you, of course.”
“Bullshit,” Priest said. “You all but disowned me that day in the bayou, and you don’t give second chances. So try again.”
“Straight to the point. Good for you. Fancy lawyer school teach you that?”
Priest ground his teeth together. “You took something you knew was important to me because you wanted my attention. Well, you have it, Jimmy.” Priest paused. “So what the fuck do you want?” he shouted so loudly that he was surprised the windows of the suite didn’t rattle.
Silence met his ear, and as Priest squeezed the back of his neck, he shut his eyes and wondered what it was going to take, how much of his soul he was going to have to give to free Julien. He was ready to give it all.
“Several things,” Jimmy finally said, the bullshit amiable tone gone. “You get them for me, and I just might give you something in return.”
“What?”
“I’m on the run, Joel,” Jimmy said as though Priest were an idiot. “Think. I need a passport with a name that won’t flag anything.”
Priest swallowed back the refusal on his tongue, and instead decided to worry about that later. “What else?”
“Money. How much do you think Mr. Thornton’s worth?”
More than any dollar amount you could come up with, asshole.
“I know you must have a nice little nest egg,” Jimmy said. “And if you don’t, your client has to be worth a bit. I’m sure he has the money to save himself if you can’t do it for him.”
“Fuck you, Jimmy. Let me talk to him,” Priest said, needing some kind of proof that Julien was even there, that he was…alive.
“Half a mil,” Jimmy said. “You got that?”
Priest growled. “Let. Me. Talk. To. Him.”
“I still haven’t heard an answer.”
“Yes, I have that. Now let me fucking talk to him.”
Jimmy clicked his tongue. “I would, but he’s not able to do that right now. Talk, that is.”
Priest’s vision went a murderous shade of red, and his voice trembled with rage. “You piece of shit. What have you done to him?”
“Nothing that’s not reversible for now. But don’t fuck up, or I can’t promise it will stay that way.”
Priest gripped the phone so hard that he was surprised he didn’t break the damn thing, and then he said in a deadly calm voice, “You lay another hand on him, I will kill you.”
Silent seconds passed between them, and then Jimmy said, “Finally, there’s the boy I raised.”
* * *
A SHIVER RACED up Robbie’s spine as he stared at Priest’s rigid shoulders.
The words, the mood, and the stiff set of Priest’s form presented an intimidating force, as Priest looked out the window of their hotel and issued a threat that would have most sane men running for the hills. There was nothing sane about Jimmy Donovan, however, especially if he thought he could come up against Priest and win.