Do as I say, not as I do, texting and driving is bad, and yeah, I won’t do it again.
Moving on.
After I finish tallying up the last numbers from a particularly lucrative game, I tuck my cell back into my front pocket and push open the front door.Everyone’s already here.Well, everyone from the business side.Hawke stands next to the fireplace, painted in an orange glow.Near the window, Roman stares out at the front lawn with his hands tucked into his front pockets while Jagger sits on the couch, his forearms on his knees and his hands cradling his cell.
Cold.Quiet.Morose.Damn, I feel like I just walked into a funeral home.“Why the long faces?”I ask.
The floor squeaks beneath my foot, and Jagger’s gaze slides to me.“Took you long enough.”
“I was handling a few bets,” I argue.“Some of us still work around here.”
His mouth lifts, and mine does, too.Let’s be honest, all of us work our asses off in one way or another, and Jagger knows it as well as I do.Insinuating anything different is laughable.
Still doesn’t explain the tension in the room, though.
Scratching his temple, Jagger asks, “How was the trip?”
“Good.”I shrug out of my coat and toss it on the arm of the couch.“Not all parents are assholes.Surprise.”
Jagger smiles.“Glad you’re back.I’d say it’s been quiet around here without you, but…”
My brow quirks, and I look around the room again.Seriously, what’s the problem?“Well, if that isn’t ominous, I don’t know what is,” I note.“Anyone gonna start talking?Or should I grab the timer so we can play a game of charades?”
“The tape,” Jagger mutters.“From the haunted house.”
My stomach lurches because so help me, if it has anything to do with me, I’m going to lose my shit.“Which tape?”I turn to Roman, my eyes bulging as all the ways June could cut off my balls if she ever finds out the video of me feeling her up on paint night resurfaced.“I thought you erased it.”
“Not that footage,” Roman grunts.
Relief washes over me before dread replaces it.Because if it isn’t the footage of June and me, it means something a hell of a lot worse.Not just for me personally, but for the business we’ve worked our asses off to build.Dropping my head toward the ceiling, I groan, “Tell me you’re joking.”
“He’s not joking,” Hawke says.
Squeezing the back of my neck, I demand, “How did you all know about this but me?”
“Because we found out the night you left, and Jag didn’t want to fuck with your trip,” Hawke returns.
Of course not.
With a half-assed wave of my hand, I reply, “What a peach.”
Jagger gives me a crooked but just as testy smile.“We aim to please.”
“Good news is Hawke tracked the source,” Roman interjects.
“More good news?”I volley.“Golly, is it my birthday?”
“Be serious,” Hawke grumbles.
“Oh, I’m serious,” I snap.“Serious as a flaccid cock on your wedding night.”Hawke gives me the bird, and I shake my head.“Do you know what could happen if that tape gets out?If there’s literal proof that Jagger manipulated a bet so his girl would win the pot?”
Hawke grits out, “I’m gonna break into Morgan’s house for his hard drive.”
“Break into Morgan’s house?As in a literal kingpin’s nephew’s home?”I scoff.“Yeah, that sounds like a brilliant idea.”
His nostrils flare.“I’ve done worse.”
“Good,” I snap.“Because if anyone sees that footage, we might as well bend over right now and take it up the ass.”
