A rock settled in my gut. “And I deserve Brett?”
“Eva.” He gave me a kind smile. “The fact you’re even asking that question . . . that’s your problem right there.”
5
“I DIDN’T EVEN recognize you without the suit and tie,” Sam Yimara said, as I settled into the seat across from him. He was a compact man, well shy of six feet in height but muscled. His head was shaved and tattooed, his earlobes pierced so that I could see right through them.
Pete’s 69th Street Bar wasn’t located on Sixty-ninth Street, so I had no idea where the name originated. I did understand that Six-Ninths had derived their name from it, after playing on its stage for a number of years. I also understood that the restrooms in the back had provided a place for Brett Kline to screw my wife.
I wanted to lay my fists into him for that. She deserved palaces and private islands, not seedy bar bathroom stalls.
Pete’s wasn’t quite a dive, but it was classless. A beach bar that looked best under cover of darkness and known mostly as a place for SDSU students to hook up and drink ’til they couldn’t remember what they did or whom they f**ked.
After I tore the place to the ground, they wouldn’t remember the bar, either.
The choice in venue was deliberate and quite brilliant on Yimara’s part. It put me on edge and drove home what was at stake. If my decision to show up alone and dressed in jeans and T-shirt threw him off in return, I’d consider the challenge well met.
I leaned back in my seat, watching him carefully. The bar had a few patrons, most of whom were seated on the patio. Only a handful of us occupied the beach-themed interior. “Have you decided to accept my offer?”
“I’ve considered it.” He crossed his legs and angled so that he could lay his arm along his seat back. Overconfident and not smart enough to exercise caution. “But hey, considering what you’re valued at, I’m surprised Eva’s privacy isn’t worth more than a million dollars to you.”
I smiled inwardly. “Eva’s peace of mind is priceless to me. But if you think I’ll up my offer, you aren’t thinking clearly. The injunction against you will go through. And then there’s the pesky little detail regarding the legality of filming Eva without her consent, a very different scenario from a mutually agreed-upon private sex tape gone public.”
His jaw tightened. “I thought you wanted to keep this quiet, not make it part of public record. Eva would be on her own with any lawsuit, you know. I’ve already talked to Brett and we’ve worked things out.”
Tension tightened my shoulders. “He’s seen the footage?”
“He has it.” Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out a flash drive. “Here’s a copy for Eva. I figured you should see what you’re paying for.”
The thought of Kline viewing sexual images of Eva sent rage surging through me. His memories were bad enough. A recording was unacceptable.
My hand fisted around the flash drive. “It’s going to come out that the footage exists; I can’t stop it. You contacted too many reporters with your offer to sell it. What I can do is destroy you. Personally, that would be my preference. I want to watch you burn, you piece of shit.”
Sam shifted in his seat.
I leaned forward. “You got more than Eva and Kline with your cameras. There are dozens of other victims who didn’t sign releases. I own this bar. Hell, I own the band. It didn’t take much effort to find the regulars and Six-Ninths followers who were here when you were illegally filming in the bathrooms.”
The last bit of avarice in his gaze dimmed, then blinked out completely.
“If you were smarter,” I went on, “you would’ve leveraged for long-term gain instead of an immediate payout. Instead, you’re going to sign the contract I’m about to put in front of you and walk away with a check for a quarter million.”
He straightened. “Fuck that! You said one million. That was the deal.”
“Which you didn’t accept.” I stood. “It’s no longer on the table. And if you take any longer to decide, the new offer won’t be, either. I’ll just run you into the ground and straight into a jail cell. It’s enough that I can tell Eva I tried.”
As I walked away, I shoved the flash drive into my pocket, where it promptly burned a hole I couldn’t ignore. My gaze met Arash’s as I passed where he sat at the bar waiting for his cue to step in.
He hopped off his bar stool. “Always a pleasure watching you scare the hell out of someone,” he said, before heading toward the seat I’d just vacated, the necessary contract and check in hand.
I stepped outside the dim bar into the bright San Diego sunshine. Eva didn’t want me to view the footage; she’d made me promise I wouldn’t.
But she was feeling something for Kline. He remained a very real threat. Seeing them together, intimately, might give me the information I needed to fight him off.
Had she been as sexually raw with him as she was with me? Had she been as desperate and greedy for him? Could he make her come like I could?
I squeezed my eyes shut against the images in my head, but they wouldn’t go away.
Remembering my promise, I crossed the parking lot to my rental car.