I crinkled my brow as if I was thinking about it. “I don’t think so.”
I had to play hard to get here. If I just said yes, he would be suspicious.
Never agreeing with him was my own form of torture for the old man.
But I still hadn’t figured out why he had tracked me down. It had something to do with Rune—that much was evident. But he was always one step ahead of the game. My father probably knew we were faking all of this right now. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least.
Rune knew that too, but he kept playing the part. He bumped his shoulder against mine, crooning, “Come on, beautiful. I won’t get hurt. I’m excellent.”
My nose crinkled, and I flicked a glare at my father. “I’ll think about it.”
This was the one mistake my father made… or it was a “well-planned” mistake.
His lips twitched before he scratched at his chin to cover it. Pretending to look for Kenny.
Today, Wolfe had planted fake stats for Rune in the boxing system, just in case my father looked it up. We’d planned for him to review the numbers after our intended trip to the strip joint—which was sabotaged. Wolfe had done an amazing job, placing stats back five years. The numbers made Rune look like a hard beat, but not unbeatable.
My father had plenty of men under his command who could beat those numbers.
The question now was… which one of these should we be focusing on?
Number one: If he’d been watching me before today, then he would know the stats were planted, and all of this happy shit was a lie to trap him. So what else was he scheming?
Number two: If he hadn’t been watching me before today, then what did he want to take away from Rune? My father would find a way to make a deal if Rune lost. It just depended on the magnitude of his scheme.
One or two? One or two?
I had no idea yet. But I liked to plan for the worst.
That would be number one. Meaning, this whole dinner was a sham.
Everythingabout it was fake.
I peered around Rune’s body, my eyes on the backroom. “Where’s Kenny?”
“Good question,” Father mumbled, his forehead wrinkling. “Kenny! We’re hungry!”
No answer came from the backroom.
My father tapped his fingers on the table in agitation. “Kenny!”
When no answer came, Rune slid from the booth. He grumbled, “I think I hear him back there. I’ll go see what the holdup is.”
Father was still glaring at the door. “Thank you. This cool weather is bugging my right knee.”
A knee I had once shattered with a bat when he’d tried to sell me to one of his associates for the evening. I’d been thirteen at the time, a virginal sale. It was the one time my father had backed down—only because he’d been in the hospital.
Rune slid through the blue, decorative booths, and pushed through the door.
As it clicked shut behind him, a sudden stir of dread fluttered inside my stomach. My brows furrowed, and I scooted on the seat, ready to stand. Something wasn’t right here.
My father’s hand snaked over the table and grabbed my wrist in a bruising grip. He bared his teeth, snarling, “Did you really think I’d be fooled by a few well-placed numbers?”
The air rushed from my lungs. I grabbed the edge of the table with my free hand and pushed, tugging to get my arm free. “You sick sonofabitch. Let go of me!”
“Not yet.” His fingernails dug into my skin. “Not until you see your boyfriend hauled away to jail.”
Ice coated my veins, my eyes snapping to his. I hissed, “What did you do?”
