Page 24 of Property of Rattler

“What the fuck?” Stalker roars. “Was anything stolen? Did you check? Saturday’s our busiest night and all the takings would have been in the safe.”

I hadn’t even thought to look. I was too busy getting Ames out of there. I open my mouth to admit that fact, but Prez preempts me again. “Nothing was taken or tampered with. Genie’s been down and checked.”

“And you didn’t?” Freak, his face still thunderous, is not letting me off lightly.

The gavel comes down on the table again. “Listen the fuck up.” Prez rakes his hands through his hair in frustration. “Long story short…”

Tuning out Prez’s actual words, I instead focus on the expressions on my brothers’ faces as they’re told about Ames, her inheritance, and that it’s her own brother who wants to dispose of her. When he tells them the details of the will, the clause about the beneficiary switching to any husband on her death, and adds, to my embarrassment, her marriage proposal, all eyes come to me.

But Prez doesn’t let them start getting their digs in, saying quickly, “Rat has proposed that either he or one of us weds her and brings the money she offered into the club. We’d net fivemillion dollars, Brothers, and all for just a few months with a ball and chain.”

“And if she dies after she’s married,” the sergeant-at-arms puts in. “The member who’s married her passes on everything she inherits to the club. The whole ten mil.”

“That’s not fuckin’ fair. It’s the brother who drew the short straw, doing the heavy lifting,” Woody points out, rubbing his temples. “I propose whoever marries her gets a decent share of the money.”

“For engaging in a paper-only marriage, and for just a short time?” Saint sighs and rolls his eyes.

My brows pinch together. “Look, I’m the last fan of Ames, but I can’t condone killing her just to get her money.”

“No one’s talking about getting rid of her. Tempest was speaking hypothetically,” Bullseye snarls, glaring first at me, then the sergeant-at-arms, and follows that up with an equally hard stare down the rest of the table as if making sure his words are understood. “Our deal is exactly what she offered to Rat. Five million. And all brothers will get to feel the benefit of that.”

Genie gingerly holds up his hand. When Prez nods at him, he enlightens us. “Tempest isn’t quite right. Pippa’s managed to trace the lawyer the Stone family uses and got into their database.” He opens his laptop and clicks a few keys. “There are a few details Ames hadn’t told Rat. Either she misled him, or perhaps she just didn’t know. Amethyst Stone is destined to inherit ten million dollars on her twenty-fifth birthday...”

I frown.She told me twenty-one.

Stalker sits forward and folds his arms. “She’s already, what? Twenty-two? Twenty-three?” Stalker sits back in his chair and folds his arms. “All she’s got to do is stay under the radar for a couple of years, three tops. And think of the prize at the end of it.” He kisses the fingertips of one hand, then spreads his fingers outward in a chef’s kiss.

I drop my bombshell.“She’s nineteen,” I correct him and am rewarded with a widening of his eyes. I can’t resist shooting a glance toward Freak. “Neither she nor Satin has yet submitted their documentation.”

Stalker also glares toward the enforcer, who shrugs dismissively. Not as if he’s got nothing to answer for, but just that it’s not important at the moment.

Genie takes advantage of the silence and goes back to the contract on his screen. He pauses, staring pointedly at me. “The money is theoretically hers when she becomes twenty-one as long as she’s hitched, but what she hasn’t told you is she can’t touch it until four years later unless she has a child. And, if she dies before spitting out a kid, the money reverts to her brother, Malachi. Her husband has no claim if the marriage is childless.”

What the fuck?I shake my head. “That’s not what she said. She told me...”

Genie looks up to the heavens and back. “I’ll try to use words of one syllable so you can understand. For the marriage to change the age of inheritance, she has to not only have a husband, but also a child. Otherwise, she’s not home free, whatever she does, until she reaches twenty-five. Husband or not.”

Words looks up. It seems like I’m not the only one who’s confused. “I want to clarify something.” Bullseye gives him a nod. “What you’re saying is, she doesn’t inherit just because she’s married, but she needs to have spat out a kid. If she does, the brother loses any chance of getting the money?”

Genie takes a deep breath. “Yeah. Until she’s twenty-five, when Stone no longer has any claim on the money. Before then, any husband gets fuck all until then unless there’s a kid involved.”

I hold up my hands. “Then it’s not fuckin’ worth it. Who’s going to tie themselves to that bitch for five plus years?” I put in glumly.

Genie dips his head and raises it. “Yeah, that’s what I’m trying to get at. It would be a long-term commitment for the club just to keep her breathing, unless she lands herself a husband and kid. That’s as long as our protection would need to last.”

“A long fuckin’ wait for a payday.” Bullseye slides his palms down his face. “And what about the risks? You manage to investigate Stone?”

Genie again bobs his head. “Yeah. He’s obviously already received his money, and he’s made a whole pile more. He owns a small, relatively successful tech startup, but let’s say I wouldn’t trust him with my dollars. He’s already blown through most of his money, losing it at gambling tables. It looks like he’s using her inheritance as collateral, and the Bratva, to whom he owes the money, are helping him track her down so he can make good on what he owes them.”

Oh fuck.That’s not good. I grimace at his words. From the expressions on my brothers’ faces, my thoughts are echoed around the table.

“The mob provided the expertise to cut the power and alarms?” Saint asks, as I’m still trying to process everything.

Genie shrugs. “Unlike Malachi, I’m not a betting man. But if I were, that’s where my money would lie. Or, with his skills, he might have been able to do it himself.”

Sitting forward, I ask, “What age did Malachi get his money?”

Genie’s brow furrows, then he gets back to reading again. “He came into his inheritance at age twenty-one.”