I left, and just when I thought the day couldn’t get worse, it did.
When I arrived at my car, Varela stepped up to my side, making me start.
“A bit jumpy,” he said.
“Where the fuck did you come from?”
“So… where’s the rest?” he asked.
As I peered down at the tubby man, I wondered whether every mafia dude in America had to do some kind of apprenticeship watching reruns of The Godfather before hitting the strip.
“Your pretty girlfriend’s little warehouse happens to belong to a pal of mine. He’s a chain-smoker, you know. It wouldn’t take much for him to leave a cigarette burning while she’s there working her pretty butt off. The insurance alone would be worth it.”
Rage stormed through me. “Don’t you fucking go near her.” I stood close enough for his sickly-sweet cologne to waft up my nose.
“He’s already casing the joint. He met your girl for the rent, and when he suggested she pay him off with her womanly gifts, she yelled abuse at him, threatening to call the cops.” He lifted an eyebrow. “She’s got more balls than you.” He chuckled. “He’s a businessman first and left her alone. But one word from me…”
“Now, listen to me. If anyone goes near Miranda, there will be fucking hell to pay.” I stood so close that I peered down his head. “You got that?”
“Then stop breaking my balls. I want my money.”
“You’ll get the rest of your money. You’re the first on the list. The art’s going to auction. I’ve been fucked around by a deal that fell through.”
“Because you’re shitting me, it’s gone up. Twelve big ones. Capisce?”
“That’s two million more!”
“So? At least you’ve still got that pretty face. And let’s not forget your sexy girl.”
“If anyone goes fucking near her…”
An evil grin formed on his face. “Ah… ain’t love grand.”
I watched his short, stubby frame move off, wondering how someone that small could be so fearless.
His threats toward Miranda put ice in my veins. I had to get him off my back—immediately.
I drove to the estate, and when I entered the office, Britney peered up from her screen. “Twenty million.”
I stopped walking. “For what?”
“That’s how much the Pollocks were insured for.”
There is a god. That would pay Varela. “Good. Put in a claim right away.”
“Sure thing.” She gave me an army salute. “Have you reported it?”
I nodded.
“So, Golden Girl fucked up.” A wicked smile touched her plumped lips.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
She smirked.
“It wasn’t Miranda’s fault. It was mine. In any case, he was a reputable dealer.”
“The project looks good.” Britney’s change of subject was welcomed. “I’ve got photos, and I’m compiling a report for the SEC. In it, I speak about how you’re raising the capital to pay off the investors.”