Annette lowered her bag onto the closest chair and folded her arms over her chest. When she’d studied the mayor’s well-maintained face and glowering eyes for just long enough to infuriate him all the more, she said, “The same thing you want, Gordon. Power, money, respect.” She offered her palms in confusion. “It’s that last one I seem to be having trouble with lately.”
His lips curled into a hateful sneer. “What would a whore like you know about respect?”
She laughed softly. “I know your definition of a whore, Gordon, and I certainly don’t fit into that category. That little hottie who serves as your latest intern, now, there’s a whore.”
“Go to hell,” he snarled.
He wished.
For half a lifetime, Gordon Duke had screwed anything that would lie still for him and some that wouldn’t. One such encounter had ended rather abruptly and quite badly. But Annette had resolved his problem. That had been five years ago. He’d been in her debt ever since. Now she was about to call in his marker.
“State your business,” he snapped. “The sooner you’re out of here the happier I’ll be.”
Predictable. Clients were always eager to please and sucked up to her when they needed her, but after she had fixed their problem and gotten their balls out of the vise, they turned into rude, belligerent assholes. It was a vicious cycle. The trouble was, somehow they—they being men—were never able to stop themselves from fucking up. “I’m calling in your marker, Gordon. Take care of this problem for me and we’ll be even.”
Suspicion joined the fury clouding his face. “What kind of problem?”
“Someone has grown a backbone. I think you and I both know who that someone is. I need you to find out what his end game is so that I can neutralize the situation before it becomes a problem for certain high-value clients.”
Rage glittered in the mayor’s too-wide-set eyes. “Is that a threat?” Like all her clients when faced with paying up, his posture went rigid and fire practically blazed from his flaring nostrils.
“Yes, Gordon,” she said calmly. “That is a threat.”
Then he did the exact opposite of what she expected.
He laughed.
Long and loud.
She kept her surprise as well as her annoyance in check. She would not give him the satisfaction. “What do you find so amusing?”
“You.” He laughed some more, had to wipe his eyes. “Take my advice, prepare for a major lifestyle change.” All signs of mirth disappeared. “Because you are definitely fucked.”
She acknowledged his defiance with a nod. “Then you’re no longer concerned with the evidence I have at my disposal.”
A vile grin spread across his face. “Not in the least, you loathsome bitch. My back is covered.” He tilted his head in disdain. “Can you say the same?”
“Well.” She reached for her bag. “I’m glad to see our fearless city leader has finally sprouted some balls.” She started to turn away but thought better of it. “Just remember, I knowallyour secrets.IfI go down, I won’t be alone.”
She left the office, and oddly the halls had cleared as if everyone present had known that a storm was brewing.
Much to her displeasure, it was. And she was dead center in its path.
As she climbed into her Lexus, her cell buzzed. One look at the display and she knew her life was about to get exponentially more complicated.
21
1:05 p.m.
Birmingham
Jefferson County Courthouse
Elizabeth reread the press release. Each word had to be perfect, had to relay a precise meaning. Mayor Duke’s reputation was on the line with each statement, each image provided to the media. Elizabeth wasn’t sure anyone understood that quite the way she did.
Otherwise—she glared at the final paragraph—senseless mistakes would not be made on such a regular basis.
She pressed the intercom button. “Michelle, I need a moment of your time.”
