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“I need more than that, Mrs. Frederick. Tell me why you’d go along with such a stupid plan and try to deceive me?”
“Because when you love someone, you help them no matter the cost.”
“Even if that’s your life?”
“Yes.” Delia’s eyes close, and more tears fall while her husband watches. His expression is one of repentance. Of utter sadness, which has caught Asher’s notice as well. There’s more to this story than greed.
“Okay.” That’s all before lifting his gun a second time and firing again, this time hitting Antonio’s ear and blowing the body part clean off. Blood spurts out, staining his wife’s clothes and skin. “You forfeited your life the moment you signed those papers inside my office, and I plan to collect my pound of flesh. Mildred,” he calls the woman without taking his eyes off a frantic Delia putting her hands on the head wound, trying to slow the bleeding, “choose her punishment, and I’ll carry out the sentence. You have three minutes to decide.”
The couple is horror-stricken by this, a whimper escaping the wife while Mildred tries to hide her glee. But I saw the look that flashed in her eyes before she took on a more stoic expression. She’s enjoying this.
Most in her position would show hurt and betrayal. Would demand a better explanation, instead of glaring when Delia began to talk—the contempt and threat behind the heated look made the other woman a bit nervous.
After a minute, Mildred gives Asher a pleading look from beneath her over-mascaraed eyes. “They’re my family, and I should be the one to—”
“Don’t test my patience, Ms. Frederick. I’ve been compliant enough.”
“Maybe we can come to a better agreement? I’ll watch?”
“No.”
“Malcolm, you’re being difficult for no reason.”
“Time’s up. Javi, have them removed and transferred to a holding cell until I decide.”
“Done.” I stand from my seat and step out the door where Carmelo is waiting, talking with another two guards working at the bank this evening. “Take Antonio and his wife downstairs. We’ll be down in a minute.”
“Together or separate?”
“Keep them together for now, and no further injuries during transport. Understood?” All three men nod and walk inside, helping Antonio—nearly carrying him—while Delia follows amid sobs, body-shaking cries for leniency that no one reacts to.
Once they exit, I retake my seat and then take the last file, which Malcolm holds out for me.
“Please be reasonable,” Mildred tries again, a whine in her tone. “What they did to me deserves retribution. Taking my life—my company—to make his wife happy deserves death. I’m only alive to tell my tale because of incompetence on their part.”
“How did you survive a so-called hitman?” I ask, keeping my voice neutral when I’m anything but. Her audacity knows no bounds after sleeping with an almost married man, Mariah’s ex to be exact.
Inside, I’m fuming as I meet her cold stare. Beyond irate.
My beautiful little criminal almost married this asshole, Lane Dermot, while he cheated. Lied. Put my girl at risk.
There isn’t much of an explanation in this file. The one sheet only holds a few words, but they’re enough to make my finger twitch.
I could kill her so easily.
But I don’t. That pleasure will only be Mariah’s. My beauty deserves the right to tell me her story—for me to earn her trust—and I’ll wait because there’s no doubt in my mind she’s worth it.
“Since when does the help intervene in your business dealings, Mr. Asher?”
“Since he’s family, Ms. Frederick.”
Her plastic nose wrinkles at that while appraising me. “How are you related again?”
“One, you never asked, and I never explained. Two, he’s Mariah’s other half.”
I’m not surprised by his words. His mind is working out logistics like mine.
Connecting dots she’d rather stay hidden.
