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Trent arches a brow, intrigued. “And you have ideas on where we should aim our public opinion scepter?”
“Absolutely,” I say definitely.
Trent’s smirk grows, eyes flicking between us. “And you’re offering to pay for this service?”
Mark shakes his head. “No, we want to buy the company outright. Quietly. That is, if we can reach an arrangement.”
Zac slides a small note across the table, the number bold enough to make Trent’s eyes flicker with excitement. The corner of his lips twitch, the hint of a grin threatening to break through before he schools his expression. “What kind of arrangement are we talking about?”
“You stay on as CEO, remain the public face. To the world, nothing changes. Behind the scenes, this piece of the puzzle falls under Excelsior Centurion,” Mark says, his voice steady.
Trent leans back in his chair, weighing his options, dragging out the silence in what can only be described as a bullshit powermove. The kind that would work if we weren’t already three steps ahead. But the quiet stretches long enough for Mark to elbow me in the ribs. Hard.
I clear my throat, ignoring the sharp sting. “I’ll throw in a case of those cigars you’re so fond of,” I say, my voice even, though I’m breathing through the pain.
Fucker always hits the same damned spot.
Finally, Trent sucks in a breath and waves his hand, all nonchalance. “If you want to buy my media company for twice its worth, bygones.” His brow quirks, amused. “Anything else?”
I lean forward, my voice low. “Roxana Voss.”
His grin fades, but only slightly. “I already fired her.”
“Fired doesn’t even scratch the surface of what I need.”
“I feel a public shaming coming on,” he smirks.
“And I want to know how she found Angi faster than my team could.”
“You think Roxie Voss found your wife’s sister?” Trent’s lips curl into a slow, sly grin. “That walking migraine has the patience of a two-year-old and the intellectual depth of cheese. It takes every brain cell she’s got just to figure out which end of her phone to speak into.” He shakes his head, amused. “Wyld Richards did the digging.” Trent presses a buzzer on his desk. “Send him in.”
“Yes, sir,” a sultry voice replies from the speaker.
A second later, Wyld steps into the room, his eyes locking onto mine, and I see it—the flash of panic, his body frozen like prey staring down a predator.
And I don’t blame him. He should be scared out of his mind, especially with Zac’s arm the only thing standing between my fist and histhroat.
Slowly, Wyld turns to take a seat. Trent’s voice cuts through the air, sharp as a blade. “Did I say you could sit?”
Wyld jerks upright. “No. No, sir,” he stammers, standing in place.
“Tell us how you found Juliana Spenser’s sister. And if you leave out a single detail, I’ll let the bookies I’ve been holding off get their pound of flesh.”
Wyld panics, vomiting every detail in under sixty seconds. “Her arrests are public. She’s hit almost every precinct—5th, 19th, you name it. I offered a thousand bucks to every dealer from here to the Adirondacks to send her my way, promise her free hits for life.”
By now, both Mark and Zac are on edge, ready to grab me because they know if I get a hold of him, I’ll end this.
But instead, my voice drops to a quiet, chilling calm. “She had enough drugs in her system to drop a man twice her size. She was hanging by a thread. If I press this with the DA, you’re looking at twenty to life for attempted murder.”
Wyld’s hands shoot up in surrender, eyes wide. “That was Roxie, not me. I just brought her in! Roxie wanted her primed for the big reveal at the awards show. I swear, it wasn’t me. I’ll do anything you want.”
“I know you will,” I say, my voice a low, dangerous rasp. “What I want is everything you’ve got on Roxie. Oh, and I want your left ear.”
“Wha—” He barely gets the word out before Mark and Zac are on him. Zac pins him with brute force, and Mark moves in fast. The tag snaps onto his ear with a sharp metallic click, and Wyld lets out a guttural scream.
“OW! Fuck! What the hell did you just do?!”
I watch him squirm, gripping his ear like it’s been ripped clean off, his face pale from the shock. “Tagged you, Wyld. Like the sewer animal you are. Now we know exactly where you are at all times. And the second you even think about running or screwing us over, I’ll make sure every single one of your bookies knows how to find you, too.”
