Hard Rules (Dirty Money #1) - Lisa Renee Jones Page 0,87
family in a time of need. A big something and I’m forever loyal. I cannot be turned by his family.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because it doesn’t matter that he’s pretending to use you to protect you. They will try to turn you. They will try to make you think he’s betrayed you in some way, and I have to make sure I’m not a tool they use to do that.”
“They who?” I ask, making sure I’m clear on the exact people she sees as enemies.
“His family and anyone working for them.”
“All of them? Even his mother?”
“I don’t trust any of them. They will make you doubt him.”
“No, they won’t.”
“That wasn’t a question, Emily. They will make you doubt him.”
“No, damn it, they won’t.”
“They had better not,” she says, her gaze sharpening, “because if you care about him at all, you cannot become the only weapon they have against him.” She walks away and I hug myself, guilt clawing at me. Jessica’s right. I can’t be a weapon to tear him down. Every decision I make has to revolve around that absolute. And that’s the moment my cell phone rings.
Digging my phone from my pocket, I move to the far side of the balcony, away from the open glass door, and hit the answer button. “Where have you been, Kevin?” I demand softly.
“Do not call me and make threats like you did earlier,” he growls.
“That wasn’t a threat,” I promise. “That was survival.”
“I told you, the less we talk the safer we are.”
“You also told me I’d be free of this in a month, two tops, and I’m headed toward that two.”
“It’s going to be a few more weeks.”
“I can’t do this for a few more weeks.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
“I have a choice,” I counter, “and yes. That’s a threat.”
“To yourself. You know the consequences.”
“That you created and you said you had proof to make go away.”
“Proof that has to be absolute, and it’s not absolute yet. Stay your course. I’ll be in touch. Get rid of the phone you’re on and text me your new number.”
“I need—”
He ends the call before I can say “money” and I stuff my phone back into my pocket, turning to face the railing, my hands settling on the steel. So much for using my power. I failed miserably and I lower my head, forcing myself to think. Suddenly Shane’s hands are on my shoulders and I whirl around to face him, afraid he’s heard my call.
“Hey,” I say, his big body crowding mine, his eyes too attentive, searching my face. “What did you do about the apartment?”
“I bought it,” he says, and the very fact that he’s answered, tells me no. He did not overhear my conversation.
“Already? How is that possible?”
“Money talks, but I’m not going to live here.”
My brows furrow. “Then why buy it?”
“It’s a damn good investment.”
“So is Jessica lining up more places for you to look at?”
“Yes, and I might buy them too, but I’m staying at the Four Seasons.”
“I’m confused, Shane. Does this mean you’re leaving?”
“Leaving? No. I’m not going anywhere. It hit me when we were talking earlier: I decided to look for a place before I found out my father rented an apartment in my building for his mistress, if I leave now, he’ll think he drove me out. I’m staying in the city, in the building, and I’m taking the apartment and the company.” His hands come down on my arms, branding me, in that way his touch always brands me, and he closes the tiny space between us. “The way I’m going to take you when we get back to the Four Seasons.”
“Yes. Please.”
“There’s a word I like and haven’t made you say near enough.”
He kisses me, quick but perfect, and I’m getting used to the way he kisses me all the time. And when he grabs my hands and leads me toward the door, I let him. Because in the next few weeks, I’m either going to have to tell him the truth or leave, and the only way I can tell him the truth is if I fix my mess. Whatever the case, I’m going to savor every second I have with this man.
Nothing personal, it’s just business.
—Otto Berman
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SHANE
I spend the rest of Sunday making good on my promise to keep Emily naked and saying “please,” a remarkable feat, considering I now know I’m not just in bed with her. I’m in bed with the Martina cartel. They’re running drugs through