Tawny raises her lips in disgust. “You are having the tech bitch follow me around?”
“I would do it, but honestly, darling, I cannot stand the sight of you.” Her head snaps back as if I had reached through bars and smacked her with my hand. “Hazel will be the one you see, but not the only one watching you. In fact, Hazel is watching you right now.” I point to the ceiling, “She may be skilled in tech, but she was also trained with the best of them. She is the only one who will not shoot you on sight, but she will kill you if you act up. Do not be fooled, Tawny.”
With that warning, I walk away, letting the heavy basement door close with a loud slam that echoes throughout the concrete prison. Oren stands at the top of the steps, leaning against the wall with a vexed look on his face.
“Ramos, what is it?” I ask, then toss him Tawny’s cell key and watch him tuck it away to hide later.
“Liam’s been suspended from the FBI,” Oren says with a grunt. He runs a hand down his face and blows out his cheeks. “Sorry, Boss, but I might have had a part in it.”
I raise a questioning eyebrow and jerk my chin toward the door that leads inside the house. He nods once, understanding that I want him to follow me to my office before speaking further. Tawny has found herself allies, and we do not know who is on her side within the household.
When we reach my office, Oren closes the door behind us as I walk over to my desk, pulling out two glasses and pouring each of us a finger of whiskey. Malia calls it the sad man’s drink. A man with too much on his mind escapes within the comfort of the amber liquid. I cannot say she is wrong on the matter.
“What happened? I haven’t heard from the director,” I question, handing Oren a glass and watching him plop down in the large, leather chair across from me before accepting the drink.
“Director Rene is busy cleaning up Liam’s mess,” he mumbles, inadvertently scowling at his glass before taking a large sip. “Liam beat the fuck out of Bastian today, and the director had to suspend him since it’s not only another agent it happened to, but there were witnesses.”
I raise a surprised eyebrow as I sit in my own chair and think about what this truly means. Without Liam around Oren and the director, protection is almost impossible. He knows of Malia’s identity now, so that is out of the question, not that I would have the right to put her in that position again.
Something deep transpired between the two of them, and I was foolish to think it would not have. I am left with no option but to go against my word to Liam’s father, Joseph, and tell him the truth.
“You said you had a part in him getting suspended. Explain yourself,” I command, placing my glass down and leaning forward on to my desk, steepling my hands together.
Oren sighs. “Bastian was talking shit about Malia, and I imagine that’s what started it.” That surprises me. Liam went to blows with his friend for a woman who he sees as having betrayed him? “When I pulled Liam off of Bastian, he called Malia a bitch. Forgive me, Boss. I may be a selfish man, but the look in his eyes told me to move or he’d rip me apart to get back to him. Plus, the little fucker deserved it.”
He smiles to himself, and I hum my acknowledgment. Oren has always been a major supporter of Malia. He is extremely vocal about her becoming the next leader instead of her brother, Donovan. I cannot say I am surprised that he let Liam pummel his friend in her honor.
“Since he is no longer actively an agent, what do you know of his attendance at the ball?” This is where I would have the best advantage of talking to Liam about his father and me. The truth of our past.
If he decides not to show, then I will have to find another way. It seems the boy is much like his father, though, so I doubt he would let his opportunity to get to me slide.
“We’ll be there,” Oren confirms. “It’s none of my business, Boss, and I don’t know the specifics of what’s going on, but I think it’s time to come clean about everything.”
I empty my glass in one sip and refill it, mulling over his words.
“You are right. It is none of your business,” I agree. “There has never been a time that I do not have a reason for the things that I do, and whether you agree with my methods or not doesn’t concern me. I appreciate your opinion, but I will handle my own mess without input from others, and that is all I will say on the matter.”
Oren nods once and stands, placing his empty glass on my desk. “Understood.”
I follow suit and rise from my chair, flattening my palms on my desk and leaning forward. “For the trouble with Liam and admitting that you played a part in his suspension you will be put on handling paperwork instead of the warehouse and deals.”
“Always love bitch work.” He runs a hand down his face and chuckles to himself, but there is no humor on his usually charismatic face.
“Dismissed,” I say, watching as Oren wastes no time walking out of the room and closing the door behind him.
AFTER A FEW DRINKS in my office, I start to feel suffocated and decide to check in at Insatiable. I have frequented the strip club more in the past few weeks than I have in the entire time since Donovan began taking over this side of the business.
I would like to say that I started visiting more often because I am keeping tabs on the business but, truth be told, I have found myself indulging in the basic human need for lust. For the first time in almost thirty years, I have found a woman who piques my interest.
And that woman does not even know what something like that means.
When I enter the club through the back door, a group of dancers is standing in a corner, talking and laughing. Some are swaying on their platform heels, clearly under the influence of drugs or alcohol. If it had been Malia that walked in the door and saw this, she would have had a field day. All but Trina, a dancer that has been working for me for years, scatter when they see I have arrived.
Trina smiles when she notices my presence and walks toward me, swaying her hips more than she normally does. Her soft, brown skin shines under the lighting, and glitter decorates her long, toned body, which adds extra radiance. Usually, Trina keeps her long, dark-brown coils down, but tonight she has them pinned up in a sort of updo that accentuates her neck.
“Nate, you’re spoiling us with all these visits,” she purrs when she comes to a stop in front of me. “Someone may get the wrong idea and think you are here to play.”
I keep my face neutral as Trina trails a thin, manicured finger down my arm as I swallow a scoff. This woman has had her eyes on my son for years, but since that is not working out for her, it seems I am her next target.