He shrugged and turned to Jason. “I imagine you can relate on a smaller scale to what I mean.”
“How’s that?” Jason’s whole body went rigid.
“With the fame you had, especially as a model, I’m sure you had women all over you, always wanting something.” He looked smug. “And not always happy when you turned your charms elsewhere, or failed to be the fantasy. No?”
Emma’s mouth tasted sour. Renfro wasn’t wrong.
“We’re nothing alike,” Jason said, his voice remarkably calm. “What do you want?”
The billionaire nodded thoughtfully, still looking amused. “The question is, what do you want in order to drop this ridiculous crusade against me?”
“Turn yourself in to the police,” Emma said.
“On what charge?”
“Murder, conspiracy to commit murder, tax evasion, statutory rape, human trafficking,” Emma said. “To name a few.”
Renfro laughed. “You have quite the imagination.”
“We also have a fair amount of evidence.” Thank God her voice didn’t shake. Hopefully, her dark shirt hid that she was sweating, and he couldn’t tell that her heart was going a thousand miles an hour.
Be a cheetah.
His smile dropped. “Fine. What do you really want in exchange for making this supposed evidence disappear? Money?” He raised his hand. “How much?”
“You could explain why you had Natalie killed,” Emma countered.
His pale brow creased. “Who?”
Heat surged through her body. The man didn’t even have the decency to remember the names of the people he murdered? “Natalie Nygaard-Brown. Your goons shot her.”
He frowned. “I’m sorry about your friend, but this just proves that you’re making up crimes I didn’t commit.”
The man was a good actor, she’d give him that.
“You may not remember Nat, but I know you remember Kerry Martin. Her death is—”
“Enough!” All pretense of friendliness vanished. His cheeks flushed and lines bracketed his thin mouth. “Everyone has a price. What’s yours to leave me alone? One million?”
“Turn yourself into the police,” Emma repeated.
He stared at them, his blue eyes icy. “Two million. That’s one for each of you.”
“We’re sorry to have wasted your time,” Jason said. He looked at her and jerked his head toward the door. “Let’s go.”
Emma wanted nothing more, but they couldn’t leave yet. Renfro had asked them here to make them an offer, and she intended to take it, once she’d displayed a suitable amount of resistance.
When she’d presented her plan at lunch, Todd had been rightfully suspicious of the fact that she had access to an account held by a shell corporation, all ready to go.
“You just happen to have an anonymous bank account?” he asked.
“We use it to pay informants sometimes. It protects them and us.” That was exactly how the Night Herons often used these kinds of accounts, though this one would probably disappear shortly after the money passed through on its way elsewhere.
“And what do you plan to do with the money?” Todd asked.
“Donate it.”
Jason had agreed to her scheme, since knowing Renfro’s account number would allow the Feds to seize the remainder of his illicit funds. If things went to plan, the dollar amount wouldn’t be the hundreds of millions anyone expected, but either way, Renfro would lose his money.
