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Stalking into the kitchen, I pulled my emergency bottle of whisky from a top cupboard and slammed it down onto the Formica. “Fuck.” I poured myself a shot of whiskey and swallowed it. Wincing at the burn, I yelled, “You do know how loans work, right? I have to pay all of this back,plus interest, and how am I supposed to achieve that if you’re out there fucking making bets and being a general prick about things?”
He followed me into the kitchen, leaning against the counter. “There has to be a way.”
I eyed him over the rim of my whiskey glass as I threw another shot back. “There is. It’s called a dirt bed, and it’ll be yours.”
I hated that I had to threaten him like this, but he wouldn’t learn. What did he think the bookie was going to do when he found out Hawk didn’t have the money he owed, just pat him on the back and say better luck next time? I poured myself another shot, hissing through my teeth as the cheap alcohol burned my throat. I tried to come up with a plan that could work, but all I came up with was one that I didn’t want to touch with a ten-foot pole.
I didn’t want to touch it, but maybe I could stroke it just enough, so it’d back off.
Striding from the kitchen, I walked into my bedroom and swiped the black business card off my dresser. In the living room, I scooped up my phone and punched in the number on the back. As I put the device to my ear, I let out a breath and prayed I was doing the right thing.
There was a click, and then…
“Little Bird.”
11
Bane
“Little Bird? Are you there?”I checked my phone to make sure the connection hadn’t cut off.
“I’m here,” she said with an irritated sigh.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of a phone call?”
“I need a favor.”
My eyes slid shut as the four sweetest words were uttered on the other end of the phone. “I’m listening.”
“My asshole brother owes a bookie twenty grand after betting on a horse race. If he’d won, he was going to pay you back with that money.”
“Let me guess, his horse didn’t win.”
“Not even fucking close,” she replied. “Are you able to loan me the money to pay the bookie?”
I wanted to laugh out loud. This was all too fucking perfect. Wren’s desperation was the thing to make her come running to me, looking for help. I leaned back in my office chair and placed my feet on the desk. “Hawk would owe me seventy thousand, then,” I mused.
“I’m aware.” Her words were curt like she was biting her tongue. She hated every minute of this. But me? I was fucking enjoying the hell out of it.
“I totally get it if you don’t want to get in any deeper with—”
“Deal.” When she said nothing in reply, I made sure the call was still connected. “Wren?”
There was the sound of a door closing. Then, “I’m here.”
“Good. I’m coming over to discuss the terms.” I hung up without waiting for her reply. She was in no position to argue with me, anyway. I had her just where I wanted her. Standing from my desk, I looked down on the club, seeing it all running as it should.
Dagger had half a dozen stitches in his thigh after Syn’s attack, but he’d insisted on still working tonight. For that, I was grateful because I was about to do something I hadn’t done since I opened The Dollhouse.
I was leaving early on a Saturday night.
Plucking my suit jacket off the back of my chair, I patted my pockets for my keys, then picked up my phone, dialing my driver.
“Be there in five,” he replied and hung up.
Sliding the device into the breast pocket of my jacket, I left the office. When I walked past the bar, Rachel gave me a small smile. The bruising was getting worse, but that was a good sign. It meant she was healing.
“Have you moved out yet?” I demanded, taking her situation very fucking personally.
