“We’re done, Nair,” Dad decreed, doing it appearing bizarrely like he was getting antsy. “I’ve got a meeting with my daughters.”
“I’ll come back, you come to your senses,” Nair said, pushing up from his chair.
“I would suggest it isn’t me who needs to come to my senses. Both the Sebrings are untouchable and that’s been demonstrated to you especially because Knight Sebring has made that point personally and repeatedly.”
Well, at least that was a relief.
“We partnered up good in the past, Vincent, repeatedly,” Nair retorted. “Both of us did well workin’ together.”
They did?
That was news to me.
Unhappy news.
Nair wasn’t finished.
“And it’d be smart you don’t forget that because word is, you haven’t been smart much for a long time and you need good partners and you have since Leon put you in your place.”
I held my breath.
No one, not a soul, mentioned Leon Jackson to my father.
No one.
Dad’s voice was rumbling with contained fury when he said to me, “Our guest has lost his way to the door, Olivia. You can call Gill now to show him that way.”
“Valenzuela finally stops fuckin’ around, chews you up, spits you out,” Nair hissed, jerking his finger through the air at Dad with each “you,” he then turned and jerked it to me. “Valenzuela puts you on the auction block, I’m buyin’. Cover you in my cum then make that pussy work for me.” He turned back to Dad. “And everyone in Denver knows Valenzuela’s biding his time. That shit’s gonna go down. Make no mistake. Only one who’s in denial about that is you. You hearin’ me?”
“Our history,” Dad whispered, “gives you sixty seconds to get your fat ass out my door.”
“Fuck you,” Nair spat. “You had the balls to do it, you’d—”
I was desperately tugging my phone out of my purse.
I was too late.
Nair stopped talking because Dad pulled the gun out of his desk.
“Right,” Nair taunted, grinning an oily grin.
I quickly searched for Gill’s contact on my phone.
The door opened.
Georgia started in.
Dad pulled the trigger.
Nair’s head exploded.
He just had to pull out his .45.
I closed my eyes, swallowed the sick that surged up from my gut, turned back to the window and dropped my phone hand.
“Seriously?” Georgia asked, not hiding her exasperation. “Our cleaning bill is out the roof already.”
“Reschedule,” Dad barked. “And clean that shit up.”