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Of course they do. Look at the fuck who’s in charge of it.
Scarlett’s father.
He’s an expert in keeping himself clean, the fucker.
“We don’t know—I don’t know.” He straightens his tie. “For more information, if there is any, you’ll have to ask my brother.”
I let myself have a moment, ease into some of the rage bubbling in my blood.
His brother. The prick I want dead. The one who ruined my life. The one I need to remember every time I dip into the pleasures of his daughter. Because she has a way of softening things, twisting them without ever meaning to.
There are, I think, two innocents here. Grant’s daughter, Amelia, and Scarlett. Well, as innocent as someone like Scarlett can be. Because how can anyone be truly innocent with Dale Hanlon as her father?
“And where is he?”
“The office,” Grant says, moving into the small living room on the first floor. When we’re in there, he gestures to a seat and pours himself a drink.
“Scotch for me.”
I know Scarlett’s here. No way am I not having her followed. But I don’t think he knows she’s here yet. Not that it matters, not to him. Scarlett’s a glorified office girl, a tasty morsel I let him put on the hook to reel me in.
Men like him think they have the upper hand. He’s got me now. Or rather, he thinks he does.
He offered money, favors, all the things a man like JM doesn’t need. All because he wants my help. And the only reason to seek me out is because he knows something.
What it is and whether it’s helpful, is something I’m going to need to find out for the Knights. It’s interesting that all the threats, except the one against his kid, are things I’ve set up and put in motion.
There are numerous ways I could have gone about getting the client list, and making threats was the easiest. Using Scarlett as my price turned out to be a little buttercream on top.
That all went along beautifully.
But the more intriguing thing right now is how Grant Hanlon’s acting. Like the threats aren’t as big a shock as they should be.
Like he’s been up to no good.
Maybe it’s just because of the clients. Or maybe it’s because he dug into them and tried to get something from them. In the grand scheme of my job at hand, it’s useful, but fuck, I’ll take anything I can get to turn the screws. And when it’s done, when I move in for the kill, I’ll use whatever I uncover to make his brother suffer.
Right before I end Dale Hanlon.
“Thanks,” I say, taking the proffered drink. “Are you going to tell me why you wanted to see me alone?”
He paces, staring down into his drink. “I’m worried about Amelia.”
“You know you have my protection.”
His gaze swings at me, glittering with unease. “And what?—?”
“Have I done?” I cut him off. “Are you really going to fucking ask me that?”
“You’ve got my niece; that’s worth the price of information.”
“Are you trying to say she’s a fucking commodity?” I ask, taking a gulp of the scotch and sitting back against the chair. “Because there’s a bond between us. Maybe I’ll marry her for real.”
He stiffens, like he just stepped on something vile with his bare feet. “That won’t be necessary.”
“You don’t think I’m fucking good enough for your family?”
I know that’s what he’s thinking; he can barely hold on to the judgment. And it’s a beautiful thing to watch. Men like him… I love it when they think they’ve got all the power and a deal to boot.
