AllFreeNovel
Share Us
CHAPTER 13
Thomas
I tell myself it isn’t guilt I feel when I return Clara to her room and lock the door behind her, but apprehension. She has a difficult choice to make, one that I am responsible for placing on her shoulders. And even so, I don’t know if she’ll choose correctly.
So far, she hasn’t responded well to any external force, positive or negative. Even with me standing over her in my office, hormones running wild, she told me she needed time to consider my proposal. It’s just as well. If she’d agreed to work with me right then, I might have bent her over the desk to reward her.
And that is not a productive thought to have.
I consider returning to my room, but if I do that, I won’t be able to stop myself from watching her through my window, and I need to get something done today. Besides, the more I look at her, the more I’ll remember the awful expression on her face when I gave her my ultimatum. The widening of her eyes after I asked her what happens to loose ends. The way her cheeks finally lost their high color. The color I put into them.
Worse, I won’t be able to stop myself from thinking further back. To the warmth of her naked skin, to the sweetness of her voice gasping my name, to the tight wetness of her, and how right it felt to come into her while she came around me.
Almost an hour later, I’m still unsure how it happened. What came over me in that car? At no point in my life has pure adrenaline caused me to throw away my common sense so completely. I’ve always prided myself on being in control of every situation I find myself in. But the moment Clara was safe and I had my arms around her…
I’m tempted to slam my head against the wall to knock all these useless thoughts loose. Instead, I stomp back downstairs to my office. I resist the urge to pause in front of my display case, to run my eyes over the collection that Clara admired.
It felt like a weakness, watching her do that. I’d almost told her why I started commissioning custom chess pieces, how it all started with finding the only surviving pawn from my father’s prized set after the destruction of our first estate. I’d held onto that piece, that simple marble pawn, in secret while I watched my father run our family into the ground. And after he died, I swore I would build it back better than he ever could.
Ridiculous.
I send a text to Iris once I’m at my desk, asking her to meet with me at her earliest convenience. After a moment I send a second text, asking politely if she could bring some fresh coffee with her. She leaves me on read, which I take as an affirmative. Then I dial Sheriff Derrick Lindman’s private number and settle back in my seat for a negotiation.
I can only hope this one will go better than my talk with Morgan Speare.
Derrick Lindman and the Warwick family go back to Derrick’s early days as a young cop. He was just one of many who was willing to take petty bribes from my father in exchange for blind eyes. Once the Speare family started making a name for itself, though, several of the Warwick’s old contacts switched sides. Their fidelity was only worth a few extra pennies, it seems. But Derrick stayed loyal. He even took the initiative to get some of his fellows sacked if he found out they were working for the Speares.
When I took over for my father, I decided it would be a good idea to reward that drive. Derrick found himself promoted again and again within the force, and after a brief phone conversation with me decided that he should run for Sheriff. I made sure he won the election handily, though his relative youth, his warm personality, and his objectively handsome face didn’t hurt him.
Now it’s time for me to cash in on the power this affords both of us.
Derrick answers after a single ring. “Mr. Warwick, hello! What can I do for you today?” From the faint barking of dogs and rushing of wind, it sounds like I’ve caught him on one of his walks. His jovial greeting and the use of my name means he’s alone. Free to talk business.
At least one thing is going right so far today.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Lindman. I apologize, I’m overdue to congratulate you on your recent election.”
Derrick’s voice is a little wry as he says, “Uh oh, it sounds like my Thank You card got lost in the mail. Is this a kindly reminder not to forget where I came from?”
“I’d prefer to think you don’t need reminding,” I say, making sure to smile so he can hear it. I let those words sit between us, then continue. “Regardless, Mr. Lindman, I’d like to have a chat about what your advantageous new position can accomplish for the two of us. You’ve got a celebratory banquet coming up this Saturday, if I’m not mistaken. Why don’t we talk business there?”
And at the same time, I’ll be able to whisper words to some of my other connections in the local government. The district attorney, the mayor. While the ignorant among the guests will look at me and see an affluent businessman, they will see me and understand that I’m preparing to call on their services.
Derrick Lindman is too good a politician to let any hesitancy into his voice. “Oh, of course! The Warwicks will be sure to receive an invitation.”
“Take care not to lose that in the mail, hm?”
His laugh is just a little too boisterous to be authentic. “I’ll send my assistant to deliver it personally.”
The door to my office opens, and Iris slips in with coffee in hand. “Very good, Mr. Lindman,” I say, already reaching for the mug. She holds it just out of my reach, and I let my hand fall, glaring flatly at her. “I look forward to speaking with you then.”
“Always a pleasure,” Derrick agrees, a tried and true political platitude.
I hang up without responding and hold out my hand again for the coffee. When Iris still refuses to hand it to me, I try, “Please?”
“You look rumpled,” she says.
I give up on retrieving my mug and settle back in my seat, running my hand through my hair in what I hope is an offhand gesture. Iris’s eyes narrow, missing nothing.
