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“Works for him doing what?” Armen asked.
“He’s the company’s chief of operations. He manages the rigs, the logistics of making sure everything gets to where it needs to be. Does some HR stuff, like overseeing our contract with the insurance company, hiring, firing, you know, that kind of thing,” I said.
“Then what does your father do?”
“He’s better with the maintenance on the trucks, and he’s good with the drivers. He’s not very good with the nitty-gritty business stuff,” I said.
“Clearly. Not if he wasn’t smart enough to realize you should never take a loan from the mob,” Armen said.
“Or he was desperate,” I countered.
“He was clearly that too, and that desperation is costing him—and you—dearly.”
I said nothing because there was nothing to say.
“So Todd, what is he into?” Armen asked.
“I’m not entirely sure what you’re asking,” I said.
“You’ve done a good job of being honest so far, Kayla. That should continue,” Armen said.
“And it will. I’m just not sure what you mean,” I responded truthfully.
He had long since finished his coffee and now leaned forward and crossed his hands in front of him.
I thought he was intense before but realized he had been holding back.
He wasn’t holding back now.
Or at least I hoped he wasn’t because I couldn’t imagine what I would do if this situation got worse. If he turned even more intense.
He smiled that scary-ass, humorless grin, and the warning bells, which had never quite gone away completely, came back with a vengeance.
“It means tell me everything you know about Todd and what he’s into,” Armen said.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Petrosyan, but I don’t know exactly what you’re asking. We went to high together and then to State together for college. He finished up his MBA, and I’m a semester shy of dual bachelors and MBA. He works for my dad. He likes college football. He’s allergic to apples. What else do you want to know?” I said.
My voice had gotten louder, but I made a conscious effort to calm it.
Armen looked at me.
Smiled again.
“Narek, go pull the car around,” he said.
“So, we’re done here?” I asked, feeling hopeful.
At least I did until he smiled.
“Yes, sirts, we’re done here. But…” he said.
I leaned back, tried to keep my expression clear.
“We’re going to go elsewhere and have a more…intimate conversation. Prying eyes might keep you from being as forthcoming as I’d like. But if we have some time alone, I’m sure you’ll be more inclined to speak,” he said.
That didn’t sound good.
Not at all.
I looked at Narek, who looked at me apologetically and then slipped out of the private dining area.
Armen reached across the table, and I couldn’t help but stare at his big, meaty hands.
Couldn’t help but think about the pain I somehow knew they could deliver.
“Give me your phone,” Armen said.
