When Emma excused herself to use the restroom before they left the hotel, Todd looked at Jason. “Last chance to withdraw.”
“Not happening.” Didn’t his friend know him at all?
“I figured, but I had to offer.” Todd clapped him on the shoulder. “All right then. Let’s go get these motherfuckers.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
AT SEVEN O’CLOCK, Emma ascended a flight of stairs to Stolz, a penthouse-level bar situated a few blocks west of the park where she and Jason had kissed on the banks of the lake. Sunset was still a couple hours away, and the bottles of liquor lining the wall above a dark wooden bar glittered.
The large space had been divided into several “rooms,” each with its own theme of sorts. Frank Lloyd Wright, Versailles, and coffeehouse. But the real draw—and where most of the customers were at the moment—was the open-air patio beyond the large windows. From there, patrons had views of the ornate buildings and thick trees lining Pilatusstrasse, and northwest up the hill to Hotel Château Gütsch, built to look like a German castle.
She had to give Renfro credit for choosing a fantastic location and turning the bar into an understandably popular hangout.
Emma had scoped the place out several nights ago after learning that it was one of many businesses he owned in the city. According to her research, it was relatively easy for foreigners to start businesses in Switzerland, and he had a strong financial presence in Lucerne. So much so that he’d hired her informant Viktor to help with the day-to-day running of his Swiss interests.
Hard to believe her last visit here was before the meeting with Viktor, before everything had gone to hell, before Jason had crashed into her life again. So much had changed in such a short time, and now she’d returned to meet Renfro face-to-face.
Revulsion made a slow crawl down her spine.
At the top of the stairs, a pretty young woman with long brown hair and olive skin took their names and led them down a dark hall lit with brass chandeliers. At the end, she spoke quietly to a large man whose shoulders strained the fabric of his black suit as he stood intimidatingly before an ornately carved wooden door.
At his nod, she turned and gave Jason a warm, assessing smile, before returning to her station.
Nerves pinged around inside Emma like a rubber ball in a cube. Jason gently squeezed her cold hand, releasing it as the massive door swung open to reveal another white man with short brown hair who made Jason look almost average-sized by comparison.
Realizing she was holding her breath, Emma released it slowly and ordered her muscles to relax. Prey were tense and twitchy. The one with power—the one who knew they had nothing to fear from others—could afford to be relaxed, to react at their leisure. She tried to channel her inner cheetah, at ease but strong.
“Your phones, please.” One of the brutes held out his huge palm.
“We didn’t bring them,” Jason said.
With Todd and his guys right outside, there was no point in having cell phones that would probably just get loaded with spyware while in the guard’s possession.
“We must pat you down,” the bigger man said in thick English as he entered the hallway, forcing them to step back.
Emma nodded, swallowing down her fear and resentment. It was part of the job sometimes. To her surprise, the man was thorough but professional, not taking advantage of the situation to grope her inappropriately. Rare, that.
He looked in her ears and studied her shoes before requesting that she relinquish any jewelry.
She removed her wristwatch, and Jason did the same.
Apparently satisfied, the man nodded and gestured them into the bright office, shutting the door so that he was outside, and the other guard stood just inside.
The two walls that weren’t made of glass were painted light gray, but the floor and built-in bookshelves were warm wood. Renfro’s view was similar to that of the bar, but with more visibility to green hills beyond the rooftops to the west.
The Devil himself rose from a black leather desk chair, looking like a German prince with his pale hair, blue eyes, and thin, straight nose. Tall, but slight in stature, his energy disproportionately filled the room. “Welcome to Stolz.”
The German word forproudseemed an apt name for any place owned by this man, who stood behind a sleek wooden desk under an abstract light fixture made of white silk. Behind him, a wide bookcase overflowed with photos of him posed with famous people and various awards made of etched glass.
Unwilling to say that she was happy to meet him, or make any other friendly overtures, Emma remained silent. As did Jason.
“Have a seat.” Renfro gestured to a set of leather and aluminum chairs in front of his desk, ignoring their rudeness.
Jason crossed his arms. “No, thanks.”
Renfro’s feral smile only made her more uneasy. He skirted around the huge desk, his footsteps dampened by a thick gray rug as he approached. “Look, I know you think I’m a villain of some kind, but really I’m the victim here.” He spread his arms wide. “When you have the kind of money and success I do, everyone wants a piece of it, one way or another.”
Emma scowled. “In my experience, when someone has the kind of money and success you do, they start to think they can treat people however they want, and get away with anything.”
