“My shit got fucked right along with yours, the Feds shut that down,” Nair returned.

The Feds?

What on earth?

“I need resources if I wanna make Sebring hurt,” Nair said.

“This is not my problem,” Dad replied.

“The resources I need are not money. I got that and I’m good with givin’ it up,” Nair stated then stressed, “A lot of it.”

Surprisingly, Dad didn’t deign to respond to that.

“Take him down, when I get those bitches he stole from me back, I’ll cut you into a percentage of his gash,” Nair bartered.

Dad glanced at me before he sat back and declared, “We’re done.”

Nair glanced over his shoulder at me. Looking into my eyes but for the briefest moment, he took in my breasts and hips before he looked back at Dad.

“Word is your girls ain’t stupid. They know easy money and easy money to be made off pussy.”

My lip curled.

“You have daughters one day, come back and repeat that,” Dad shocked me by saying.

I was not shocked because Dad was in that business. He wasn’t, never was and I knew that.

I was just shocked that he was intimating he wasn’t because of his daughters.

He shocked Drake Nair too. And amused him. I knew by the noise of the incredulous hoot Nair made.

“We’re done, Nair,” Dad decreed, doing it appearing bizarrely like he was getting antsy. “I’ve got a meeting with my daughters.”

“I’ll come back, you come to your senses,” Nair said, pushing up from his chair.

“I would suggest it isn’t me who needs to come to my senses. Both the Sebrings are untouchable and that’s been demonstrated to you especially because Knight Sebring has made that point personally and repeatedly.”

Well, at least that was a relief.

“We partnered up good in the past, Vincent, repeatedly,” Nair retorted. “Both of us did well workin’ together.”

They did?

That was news to me.

Unhappy news.

Nair wasn’t finished.

“And it’d be smart you don’t forget that because word is, you haven’t been smart much for a long time and you need good partners and you have since Leon put you in your place.”

I held my breath.

No one, not a soul, mentioned Leon Jackson to my father.

No one.

Dad’s voice was rumbling with contained fury when he said to me, “Our guest has lost his way to the door, Olivia. You can call Gill now to show him that way.”

“Valenzuela finally stops fuckin’ around, chews you up, spits you out,” Nair hissed, jerking his finger through the air at Dad with each “you,” he then turned and jerked it to me. “Valenzuela puts you on the auction block, I’m buyin’. Cover you in my cum then make that pussy work for me.” He turned back to Dad. “And everyone in Denver knows Valenzuela’s biding his time. That shit’s gonna go down. Make no mistake. Only one who’s in denial about that is you. You hearin’ me?”

“Our history,” Dad whispered, “gives you sixty seconds to get your fat ass out my door.”

“Fuck you,” Nair spat. “You had the balls to do it, you’d—”

I was desperately tugging my phone out of my purse.

I was too late.

Nair stopped talking because Dad pulled the gun out of his desk.

“Right,” Nair taunted, grinning an oily grin.

I quickly searched for Gill’s contact on my phone.

The door opened.

Georgia started in.

Dad pulled the trigger.

Nair’s head exploded.

He just had to pull out his .45.

I closed my eyes, swallowed the sick that surged up from my gut, turned back to the window and dropped my phone hand.

“Seriously?” Georgia asked, not hiding her exasperation. “Our cleaning bill is out the roof already.”

“Reschedule,” Dad barked. “And clean that shit up.”

I opened my eyes and stared through the grime at the parking lot.

“Olivia?” Dad called.

I turned my head his way. He was now close to the door.

He held my gaze and nodded, seemingly communicating something weighty, like for some reason he was proud of me.

I felt my flesh crawl.

Dad turned away, walked out and slammed the door behind him.

I looked back out the windows.

I then heard Georgia say, obviously into her phone, “Yeah, Gill. Call Henrietta. Get some heavy duty bags. Clean up on aisle five.”

I sighed.

“Liv,” she called to me.

I looked to my sister.

She had a hip hitched, her phone up in front of her face, her eyes to it, thumb moving on her screen.

“How’re you fixed for next Thursday?” she asked.

Good God.

My family.

* * * * *

Nick

5:38 – That Evening

Jogging down the stairwell to get to the underground parking lot of his building, Nick made his fourth call to Olivia that day.

He was concerned.

It was his third call, the first, that morning, she’d answered. The last two that afternoon, she had not. But he’d also texted three times, all that afternoon, and none of those she’d answered.

He had no ears at that warehouse.

And he had a leak.

She had a meeting that afternoon at that warehouse.

She worked with vipers.

And she was his.