Big Bad Boys A Romance Collection - Penny Wylder Page 0,5

right, sweetie?”

I slam the door in his face at that, which makes the guard burst into laughter. To the guard, all I say is, “I’m ready to go.”

2

“I couldn’t get anything out of him, Dad. I’m sorry.”

Dad paces across the study, a cigar in one fist and a glass of whiskey in the other. The latter, he downs in one gulp and plops onto his desk for me to refill.

I do.

“You had one job, Ashley.”

“I know, Dad. I just didn’t expect him to be so…” When I don’t continue for a moment, at a loss, Dad clears his throat sharply.

“So what, Ashley?”

“So himself. I don’t know. He just refused to listen to anything I said, even when I suggested we’d send him to solitary for months—”

“Prying information from someone like him is a negotiation, Ashley. You don’t open a negotiation with the minimum bid. You said months? You should have told him we’d lock him in there for years. For a decade at least. That, or you threaten to have him strangled in his sleep.”

My eyes widen. “But—”

“No, we wouldn’t actually. But you start high and then barter lower. Have I taught you nothing? Threaten his life, then become lenient and suggest only a few years in solitary once he’s panicking.”

I grimace. “I’m sorry, Dad. If I can just meet with him again, I’m sure I can do better…”

“You’ll have to. We’re running out of time, and options. We need that cash if we’re going to stay in business past the month’s end. Beyond that…”

“I know, Dad. If we don’t get it, then Diggs and his crew close in. Take over our territory, and probably hire hits on us both before a day has passed.”

“Then you know how high the stakes are here. How important this is. How much trust I’m placing in you.”

“Of course I do, Dad.”

He clenches his fist around the whiskey glass and downs another glass all in two gulps. “Then why,” he snarls once he’s finished, “are you disappointing me?”

“I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”

He grabs my wrist just as I reach for the bottle of scotch to top him up. “Damn right you will, Ashley. Because this time, we’re not allowing for any mistakes.” He squeezes, just hard enough for me to feel it. My stomach clenches.

Dad’s never hurt me. Not exactly. He gets his rages, but who doesn’t? He’d never take it any farther than this, than just blowing off steam in my general direction. He’s not a good person, I know that. But he’s not a monster either.

He lets go of my wrist with an exasperated sigh and snatches up his third glass to swirl it. “I’ve asked Gunther to arrange your next meeting. More private this time. If all else fails, I want you to use your assets to secure the information.”

I can’t help it. The scotch bottle slips from my grip and thuds against the table surface. I catch it just in time to avoid it toppling over and spilling, then glare at my father across the table. “You want me to whore myself out?”

“No, Ashley, I want you to negotiate like a proper businesswoman, and secure the deal. But, failing that, there are some advantages to you having been born a woman. Such as the fact that you are exactly Damon Tell’s type. In this world, you use every advantage you can get, no matter how unsavory.” His gaze searches mine, searing. “If you don’t want to sink to that level, then I suggest you perform better at the task I already set you.”

With that, he takes his final glass of whiskey and storms from the private study in which we’ve been talking. I stand there at the table, staring after him for a solid minute before I suck in a deep, infuriated breath and pour myself a glass, too.

“Jasper, I need you to arrange another meeting for me.” I cross my arms and lean back against the Ferrari that Jasper is currently repairing—fresh back in Dad’s garage after a late night job that left it dented and banged up in ways I don’t want to think about. Especially the deep indent on the hood, which Jasper has already repainted and begun to pull back into its usual shape. Before he started to fix it, though, I caught a long enough glimpse to notice that the indent was suspiciously deep and broad. Almost… person-shaped?

But I dismiss that thought. Dad is strictly anti-killing except in extreme cases—cases like when one of his