“He won’t,” Derek says.
My gaze jerks to him. “Did you kill him?”
“He had a car accident.”
“That you arranged?” I ask.
He leans on his credenza, arms folded in front of him. “No one made him drive his car into a tree.”
“So Adrian Martina arranged it,” I say. “Same thing.”
My father says nothing, asks nothing, which tells me he’s far more in the “know” on this than I had hoped. I look at him. “You know about all of this, don’t you?”
“Be specific,” he instructs, his noncommittal answer his standard formula, but the fact that he sits down as if he can’t stand, taking a submissive role, is not.
“All right,” I say. “Let’s be clear. I’ll tell you what I know. I’ll tell you what I expect.”
“Save your breath,” Derek says. “Because this endeavor is worth a lot of money.”
I focus on my father, speaking to him, setting him up to remember this conversation when the raid takes place. “Our drug Ridel is being used to package Sub-Zero. The Feds are looking into a connection that led them to Brody’s accident last night. Should they find Ridel bottles, they will test what’s inside. Furthermore, Brody’s wife was ready to tell the police he’d been using Ridel and acting weird. I paid her off, and it wasn’t cheap, and she’s agreed to leave the country. Now, I have to keep her silent throughout his funeral, when grief drives people to do things they wouldn’t otherwise do.”
My father shows no reaction. “Is this where you threaten to walk?” No denial. No concern. “Because considering what you’ve done to cover this up, I think it’s too late to abandon ship and not go down if it sinks.” The edges of his mouth quirk ever so slightly.
And there it is. My father, the master game player. I’m trying to set him up, and he’s trying to turn the tables. “Actually, that’s why I’m here. She hasn’t been paid. You or Derek need to issue the payment off your employee account. Personally, I’d say you have the least risk.”
Ridiculously, my father’s look transforms to one of pride, and I’d be flattered, but I know him. I’ve simply extended the game he wants to play. “How much?”
“Three hundred and moving expenses,” I say, “so make it four.”
“Cut the check, Derek,” my father says.
“I didn’t make this deal,” Derek says. “It could be a setup. I’m not cutting the check.”
“He’ll cut the check,” my father assures me.
“We sidestep one problem with this,” I say. “This will not end well for us if don’t get out of business with Martina.”
“This is where you threaten to get out,” Derek says.
I push off the door and look at him. “No. This is where I threaten to get you out if you don’t get Adrian Martina out.”
“We were already in a war,” he says.
“But I haven’t drawn my blade. I let the word ‘brother’ matter. But one man is dead now. That changes everything. That makes you a murderer and no one I recognize or wish to call family.”
“Am I supposed to be afraid?”
“I hope you aren’t, because people who don’t feel fear are always the first to fall.”
I turn and reach for the door, and he says, “Then you’re afraid.”
I suck in air and let it out, turning to face him. “I felt fear in my gut before every trial and negotiation I ever won. And you know what I feared? Losing. Which is why I don’t let down my guard and I always win.”
I give him my back and exit his office, making my way past his secretary again without a look, my gaze going to my secretary’s empty desk, which can mean only one thing. She’s with Emily, which isn’t a bad thing. I respect Jessica and I believe she’s a friend to Emily and me, when Emily, I know, needs to feel a sense of family that mine doesn’t even give me. Cutting down the hallway, I cross the lobby and take the path leading to Emily’s desk. Rounding the corner, I bring her into view where she sits at her desk with Jessica squatting by her feet.
Emily whirls around to face me while Jessica pops to her feet, and I close the space between us, leaning forward to rest my hands on Emily’s desk.
“Are you okay?”
“Of course, I’m fine. I’m no wimp but I’m pissed off at myself for not being more prepared for him.”
“She blamed herself,” Jessica supplies, going on to prove why I think she makes a good friend to Emily by adding, “I told her Derek’s the problem, not her.”
“Jessica’s right,” I agree, “and I know you know that.”
“I should have been prepared for him. I knew he could have—” She pales and faces Jessica. “I need you to leave.”
She gives a mock look of dismay. “That’s just rude.”
Emily grabs her arm. “Oh God. I’m sorry. That sounded horrible. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
“No worries,” she says. “I’m no wimp, either.” She gives me a wave and heads for the lobby, while Emily twists back around to face me.
“Derek called me Ms. Stevens,” she says softly, “and he emphasized Ms. Stevens. Do you know where I’m going with this?”
“My office is wired. Considering I have it checked frequently, that’s new and poorly timed.” I soften my voice. “Sorry, sweetheart. What’s between us should stay between us.”