“Lee Ville, you dick. His business is concentrated in the States but he’s been trying to expand into Europe. He couldn’t sign onto the deal fast enough,” I said.
He pulled up an image of the man on his phone. “Cowboy boots and a bolo tie? Is he one of the Texas oil millionaires?”
“Hardly,” I snorted, “the man is from Boston, playing with his daddy’s money. Lee Ville Senior died a couple of years ago, and Leevil - Lee, I mean, has been throwing out handfuls of cash. It was an easy deal.”
I tapped my fingers on my desk. “It’s been twenty-four hours since that attempt at a rescue mission. He’s had time to find out how miserably it failed.”
Alastair rubbed his hands together. “This is a call I’d give my Bugatti to sit in on.” He frowned at my grin. “You’re not really going to make me give you my favorite car, are you?”
Shrugging, I pointed out, “You’re the one who offered. But since you did attempt to rescue me… I’ll let it slide.”
I dialed Leevil’s number and put it on speaker.
“Well, goddammit, Davies! Where the hell have you been? I’ve been ripping my hair out!”
“Hello, Lee. I’ve been taking care of a few things. Is the construction on the server farm going as planned?”
“Fuck that! Where have you been?”
Ah. I glanced over at Alastair, who leaned forward, frowning. Was Leevil going to pretend he had nothing to do with that “rescue” now that it failed so spectacularly?
“I’ve been dumping a fuck ton of cash into this server farm and you’re off doing what? Chasing hookers in New Orleans? Fucking penguins in Antarctica?”
I could picture his reddened, furious face, and the thought of tearing his treacherous tongue out of his mouth with a satisfying spray of blood made me smile grimly. This bolo tie-wearing son of a bitch wanted me dead. I would find out why. And then, I would return the favor.
“Nothing you need to worry about,” I said. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Wait! What about-”
I ended the call. “What is he playing at?”
“He knows the mission failed,” Alastair said. “There’s no reason for him to not take credit for at least attempting to rescue you… unless that wasn’t the plan.”
“There’s only one thing that slimy prick cares about; money. I’m missing something.”
Charles stood, wearily rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m going to go over the paperwork again. There could be something they slipped into the contract, a codicil, perhaps. There must be a loose thread the attorneys missed.”
“How much sleep have you had this week, Charles?” His eyes were bloodshot and his impeccable suit looked like it had been hung on a scarecrow. “Don’t answer that, I can guess,” I said. “Have a driver take you home and get at least twelve hours of sleepbefore you return.”
He was so exhausted that he didn’t pretend to be anything other than grateful.
When Charles left, Alastair’s grin stretched to feral proportions.
“What?” I knew that look. He was about to annoy the shit out of me.
“How’s it going with you and that fiery environmentalist?”
“You mean, my new captive?” I asked.
Alastair rolled his eyes. “You do remember that I know you better than anyone. A woman who stands up to you? When was the last time that happened? Think about it. Is there any other time in your life that you wouldn’t have made a brutal example of someone suicidal enough to kidnap you?”
“I don’t consider being roofied, thrown in the boot of a car, and shackled in a basement as foreplay,” I snapped. “I just haven’t decided what to do to her yet.”
“If you say so, but I have a suspicion that you are far too attracted to do anything more menacing than taking her clothes off.” He stood, stretching. “Let’s follow the money trail tomorrow. It leads somewhere, Leevil might be greedy, but he’s not stupid. Do keep me apprised of your progress. I must get home to Sorcha.”
And just like that, the warmth between us disappeared.
“You shouldn’t keep her waiting,” I said coldly. “Goodnight.”
