“Westley has this rule not to loan more than a hundred thousand on a debt regardless of who the person is, but Greg is a known business owner in Chicago. He came asking for one more bet. The odds were in his favor, so I did it. I thought for sure he’d pay it back even if his team lost.”
“But he could not?” Frankie asked, already guessing the simple part of the story.
“No, the economy went under and the feds raided his establishments. They closed three of them. Westley doesn’t know that Greg is now a quarter of a million in debt. I’ve been trying to shake the money loose from him behind my cousin’s back so he doesn’t discover my treachery. But there’s only so much you can take from a man who lost everything before he pushes back. He knows I haven’t told Westley yet because I gave him until Monday to bring me a hundred and twenty-five thousand or else I was going to spill the truth. If he took me out, he’d consider the debt forgiven because Westley would never know. I should have just admitted my mistake.”
Either admitted my mistake or not been so stupid as to tell Greg I never reported the debt to the Grandmaster. This was all my fault.
I tried my hand at being cut throat like my cousin, but it backfired, and now I had Frankie at one point, Westley at the other, and Greg third. This didn’t end well for me.
“This Greg is not a smart man.”
He wasn’t the stupid one. I was. I didn’t recognize the men who’d attacked me, but I saw Greg outside Frankie’s house before the van blew up. He’d obviously recruited help—and a now destroyed vehicle—which meant he was serious about wanting my death.
I shouldn’t have given the line of credit and told Westley about it as soon as he didn’t pay. Instead, I worked behind my cousin’s back and tried to cover it all up, which only led to more destruction.
Frankie settled beside me on the couch and placed his hand on my knee. “I would bet that ten million,” he said, pointing to the bags still lined up on the office floor, “he doesn’t realize whose house he’s attacked.”
I nodded. Greg had one goal. Kill me. And I’d bet his men weren’t smart enough to look up who owned a beach mansion in Maine.
“But what he doesn’t know, Cara Mia,” Frankie said drawing my face to his, his soft expression making my heart swoon, “is that now he’s touched what’s mine.”
My heart dropped over a roller coaster. The last few days peaked with those words. For a woman who considered myself a feminist a few days earlier, I liked the sound of them way too much.
His fingers trailed up the skin of my legs, sending goosebumps down my inner thigh.
At least until his next words. “Call the Grandmaster and tell him.”
“No, I can’t,” I said, trying to push away from Frankie, but there wasn’t room on the couch. My cousin didn’t accept anyone breaking his rules and he wouldn’t care for my reasons or the fact it led to so much trouble. I already had enough issues.
“The only way to move ahead and eliminate the problems on your end so your life is safe is if your cousin and I both handle this.” Frankie was so sure of himself, he didn’t have a hint of hesitation in his words, but I didn’t know if Westley would be so forgiving. He’d never hurt me, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t punish me in some other way. Family was great at making your life hell if they wanted.
Frankie hauled me up again, and we moved to the chair behind his desk. He sat on the cool leather and twisted my body so my legs were over the top of his, making me sit half on and half off him. He grabbed the phone from his desk and punched in a number without having to check it.
My cousin answered, swearing up a storm until my voice broke through with his name. My hands shook as I explained to Westley about the attack Greg orchestrated.
His line sat quiet for a moment, and I pulled the receiver away from my ear, expecting a cell phone where I could make sure the call didn’t drop. “Shit, Shiloh,” he said, and I pressed the receiver back to my ear.
“I know. I’m so sorry.” There wasn’t more for me to say. It wasn’t about the money to Westley. It was less than one bag sitting on Frankie’s office floor. I broke the rules and betrayed his trust, something the Grandmaster would never accept. There was no quicker way to land yourself in Lake Michigan than to betray him.
Since he can’t kill me he would probably think of something worse.
Frankie gently removed the phone receiver from my hands and moved it toward the cradle. I reached out, trying to stop him, expecting him to hang up my cousin, but he pressed the button for speaker.
“Now that you know what we’re up against,” Frankie said, speaking to my cousin. “You can see there’s a threat we both must eradicate.”
More curse words than I’d ever heard Westley use sang their way over the line. I was the only one who flinched.
“Be prepared because I’m sending in a team to get Shiloh,” he said as a deep promise.
“What?” I asked, leaning closer to the phone.
Frankie didn’t hesitate beside me. He smiled as if he expected such a move. “I’m going to have to disagree with you on that plan.”
Something heavy and hard hit a surface on Westley’s end of the call. Probably his fist. “What? You have your money in the exact number of bags you demanded and stacked in your stupid ass way, but you won’t give me my cousin. Hand over Shiloh now or I’ll consider it a slight against me.”
Frankie tipped his head to me and stared for a quick moment before placing a soft kiss on the corner of my lips.
He didn’t use words, but I read the meaning of his expression. It was my choice now. He left the options in my hands. Did I choose to stay in Pelican Bay with him or return to Chicago?
