The man’s eyes flit between Cash and George. “You’rethe man who tried to kill my future son-in-law.”
His wife’s hands disappear beneath the table, and she sits back, taking shelter behind her husband.
“With all due respect.” Cash inclines his head. “If I wanted to kill him, he wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”
“If Isabella hadn’t interrupted you,” George whines but doesn’t finish what he started.
Cash turns his attention to Isabella Leone. Her expression is neutral. Her body language suggests that this unexpected turn of events is adding to her evening’s enjoyment, as she half-turns to face my brother, hands folded demurely in her lap, eyes glittering.
“Strange,” Cash says. “I didn’t see you in the gym. I’m certain I would’ve remembered.”
“Ha!” George exclaims, jabbing the dinner knife in Cash’s direction. “So, you’re not denying it.”
Cash ignores him. “Where were you hiding?”
Isabella shrugs. “I was refilling my water bottle. I heard a commotion, and when I came back through, George was on the floor.”
“This is preposterous!” Mr. Leone stands up and tosses his napkin onto the table as if throwing down a gauntlet. “I will nothave my family intimidated by a couple of thugs masquerading as businessmen.”
“I completely agree, sir.” Cash’s expression is unreadable. “Here at the Titan, ensuring the safety and well-being of our guests is our priority. Please accept my sincere apology.” He retrieves his cell from his pocket and hits redial. “Terry, your assistance is required in the restaurant.”
“Terry?” Mr. Leone’s eyes have hardened.
A glance at George, and he wipes the smirk from his face. He’s enjoying this too. He’s fidgety though, his good eye twitching as though he just remembered who he is confronting. The man who allegedly tried to murder him.
Isabella still hasn’t moved.
Terry arrives within moments. He may be our stepfather, but when he’s working, he is our enforcer, and nothing passes between us to suggest otherwise.
“Terry,” Cash says, “please escort Mr. Leone and his family from the premises. It seems they’re unhappy with the service this evening.”
Terry gestures to the exit then settles his hand on his holster.
“I… We…” Mr. Leone’s mouth works hard with no reward. Finally, he manages, “We’re guests. We’re not the ones who need to be escorted from the building. We’re still eating.”
“Sir,” Terry says amiably, “I’ve already arranged for you to continue your meal at another Murray establishment. The Wraith.”
Mr. Leone touches his jacket pocket. A warning perhaps. He lowers his voice, keeping the conversation close. “Lay one finger on my family, and you will live to regret it.”
“A family man.” Terry smiles. “We have that in common, so perhaps you’ll understand my predicament. A young lady has gone missing from the Titan this evening. Shortly before your party arrived to be precise.”
Mrs. Leone raises a hand to her mouth; it’s her first reaction to the conversation since Bash and I arrived.
“What does that have to do with me?” Mr. Leone asks without acknowledging his wife.
“We have reason to believe that your future son-in-law is responsible. So, my question to you, Mr. Leone,” Terry doesn’t give him a chance to interject, “is what would you do in my situation?”
“That is a serious allegation, and you clearly have no evidence to back it up or you wouldn’t be standing here now. George was with my daughter all evening. He has an alibi.”
Terry’s expression doesn’t falter. “Answer the question, Mr. Leone.”
Mr. Leone’s eyes shrink further, retreating within the pouchy flesh surrounding them. “I would find the perpetrator and make them pay. But that does not give you the right to?—”
“Thank you.” Terry cuts him off and turns to me and Bash. “You have Mr. Leone’s full support to go ahead and make the perpetrator pay.”
I stand up, replacing the chair I borrowed from the next table. Cash follows suit.
We both converge on George Quinn, who is backing away towards the exit, still holding the knife in his hand.
