ago when Sean first met him, he hadn’t tolerated violence. Even two and a half years ago, Colton wouldn’t have killed anyone. Sean didn’t think he had it in him—then. But today? Today Sean believed that Colton could kill. Coldly, methodically, without remorse.
He had changed.
So have you.
Colton waited until the two guards left with Hunt, then he opened the doors. Sean didn’t move. Colton pushed him in. Sean almost tripped over the shackles.
Colton followed him, then closed the doors. The library was circular, one half all windows, the other half all built-in bookshelves filled with books and expensive art. A spiral ladder went up to the second level, which had more art and books, and there was a sitting area directly across from the windows. It was a room Sean knew Lucy would love and lose herself in; a room that the Beast would design for Beauty.
The desk stood directly across from the doors. The tall executive chair was turned away from the door, but Sean could see a man sitting in it, the back of his head—dark brown interspersed with salt-and-pepper—visible.
“Walk,” Colton told Sean.
He did, the shackles rattling as he shuffled across the lush carpet. He stopped when he reached the desk.
The chair turned.
“I’ve been waiting to see you in an orange jumpsuit and chains for a long, long time, Sean Rogan.”
Everything clicked. The boldness of this operation. The money and resources. Colton’s involvement. Hunt, not so much, but Sean would figure it out.
His blood boiled even as his fear grew.
“Paxton.”
* * *
Jimmy Hunt didn’t like being dismissed by Paxton’s computer geek. If Jimmy didn’t need Paxton’s resources, he would have whacked the arrogant asshole as soon as they got off the boat, then hightailed it to his plane and would have already been to his safe house in Ebano by now.
He really hated anyone who thought they were smarter than him. He had built an empire that lasted for years. He’d infiltrated the DEA and created a supply chain that was unprecedented. And for five years he did it from afar because he had family he could trust to take care of business.
It wasn’t perfect. Tobias had his problems with women. Nicole often acted like she was in charge. And even though his niece had been sharp as a tack, she had been too cautious. On the other hand, his daughter Elise wasn’t cautious enough. She came up with crazy ideas that were either brilliant or off-the-charts stupid. She didn’t take kindly to being told she needed to grow up or calm down. He had Clara keeping her in line, but Clara didn’t like Elise, and his daughter knew it.
Clara was a smart bitch. But Jimmy always put his money on Elise to come out on top. He’d learned not to underestimate her long ago.
He accepted the meal Mrs. Yancey—a trim, older woman who apparently ran the household for the former senator—prepared for him. It was delicious, especially after two years of crappy prison food. He asked if she might have a beer; she did and poured it for him in a chilled glass.
He could get used to this. Even when he had plenty of money and lived well in Mexico, he didn’t have full-time domestic help. Portia cooked and cleaned and satisfied him in bed, but she wasn’t really good at the first two. She did, however, do well in the sack.
And it wasn’t like he was broke. He had some money hidden away—enough to keep Portia happy and begin to rebuild his network. What he didn’t have were the contacts he needed in the DEA. They’d cleaned house after Nicole was killed, and no one in San Antonio or Houston was on the take—yet. He still had a mole deep in Los Angeles, but that guy was friggin’ paranoid, so Jimmy wasn’t certain he could trust him anymore. It took time—a lot of time, patience, and money—to create a traitor.
Plan B was to have Elise sell the house in Los Angeles and they could live on the proceeds quite well in Mexico for years. But then he would have to find something for Elise to do, because she got bored very easily. When Elise was bored, she got stupid. Give her a job, though, and she usually did it better than anyone.
And Elise didn’t know the meaning of the word discretion. She’d be dangerous to have near him … because even when the Rogans were all dead, they would have to deal with the Kincaids.