I grip the phone a little tighter, feeling rage rising to the surface of my body. “Where is she, Brittany?”
“Oh, she's fine,” Brittany says. “We're just hanging out, having a little girl time.”
“I swear to God, if you touch her, I'm –”
“You'll what exactly? Kill me?” she laughs. “You and I both know you don't have the stomach for that.”
“What in the hell do you want?”
“World peace?”
I let out a deep breath, doing my best to control my fury. “Stop fucking around, Brittany,” I say. “What do you want?”
“What I want is what you owe me,” she says, her voice suddenly turning ice cold. “What I want is exactly what you're going to give me.”
“Name the price.”
“I'm going to send you an address,” she says. “And you're going to be there at midnight, tonight. You're going to come alone. If you're even one minute late or bring a friend, your little sidepiece here is going to have a very, very rough time. One I don't think she will recover from.”
“Goddammit, Brittany –”
The line goes dead in my hand. She hung up on me. The bitch hung up on me. My head pounding and my heart racing, I pace the office. Hemingway, obviously picking up on my mood – the rage and anxiety coursing through me, retreats to one of the guest bedrooms. He's a sensitive soul and has never wanted to be around extreme displays of emotion.
A moment later, my phone buzzes with a text message from an unknown number. It contains an address that I don’t immediately recognize. So, I do a quick Google search of the address.
“Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me.”
They are having me meet them at an old, abandoned cannery on the edge of town – a place that's set to be demolished and redeveloped by Damon Moore's company.
Could these clowns be any more cliché?
I look at the time and see that it's already after ten. I don't have a lot of time to prepare. They are not going to dictate terms to me. I'm going to show them that I am not a man to be fucked with. They are going to pay for this. And they're going to pay big time.
I punch in a number on my phone and hold it to my ear. A moment later, the call goes through and he answers on the first ring.
“Hey, it's me,” I say. “I have an emergency and I need your help. I'm sending my helicopter to pick you up at the ADE building. I need you to bring a few things...”
Chapter Thirty-One
Liam
The time on my watch reads 11:53 p.m. as I shut off the car in the parking lot of the old, abandoned cannery. I get out and walk across the cracked pavement with weeds springing up everywhere – some of them as tall as my hip – as the forest slowly, yet surely, begins to reclaim the land. I look around and idly wonder what in the hell Damon intends to put out here.
There's a side door standing open and I see light inside.
“This is obviously, the place,” I mutter to myself.
Adjusting the ball cap on my head, I wince at the decorative pin that digs into my scalp. Tucking my hands into my pocket, I fight off the waves of nervousness and step through the door. If it were just me, I wouldn't be half as worried as I am. But, given that Paige's life is on the line, I'm scared. If I fuck this up, she's going to pay the ultimate price. I can’t risk that.
“Come in, Liam.”
I step around a stack of crates to find Damon and Brittany standing there. Behind them is a large man who looks like a complete idiot – I take him to be Travis Waltham.
“Phone,” Damon says. “Take it out of your pocket and set it on the table.”
Klieg lights had been set up, casting a small circle of bright light on the people standing there, while the rest of the warehouse remains lost in thick, inky shadow. In the center of that circle of light is Paige. She's zip-tied to a chair and there is a gag in her mouth. Her eyes widen when she sees me, and I see an expression that's a mixture of relief and fear flit across her face.
“I'm here,” I say, stepping into the circle of light, setting my phone on the table. “Now, let her go.”
Waltham walks over and checks it – obviously to make sure I'm not recording. He nods at Damon and steps back, taking his place next to Brittany. She looks at me and pulls the large man down into a kiss, grabbing at his crotch as she does so. She steps back a moment later and looks at me, a predatory smile on her face.
“Was that supposed to make me jealous or something?” I ask. “It doesn't, in case you wondered. You can go ahead and fuck him right here for all I care. Doesn't bother me. I'm not into skanks.”
“Fuck you, Liam,” she snaps.
I turn my attention to Damon. “Let Paige go,” I say. “Now.”
“Patience, patience,” Damon says and turns to Brittany. “Jesus. Was he always this rude and demanding with you?”
“He was worse,” she says.
“Yeah, all I did was try to give you a good life by catering to your every goddamn insane whim,” I say, derision dripping from my voice. “It must have been so terrible for you.”
She shrugs. “It wasn't a picnic, that's for sure. You don't enjoy the money and lifestyle you have, Liam. All those lessons your daddy taught you about being humble and frugal? Total bullshit and you took them to heart a bit too much for my liking.”
“Fuck you, Brittany,” I snap. “Don't you dare mention my father.”
“Oh, did I hit a sensitive subject?” she asks, feigning surprise. “Oh, that's right, you're still not over mommy and daddy's death, even all these years later.”
She and Travis laugh together like it was the funniest thing they've ever heard. I know they're trying to get a rise out of me. Trying to get under my skin. I can't let them. I need to stay focused. I need to stay sharp.
“Whatever,” I say and turn to Damon. “What the fuck do you want?”
“The same thing I've always wanted,” he says. “Port Safira. I tried to ask you nicely not to shit in my sandbox. And yet, here you are, doing just that. Mayor Goodrich and I have a great thing going on. He funnels me non-competition contracts for a small fee. It's a beautiful system that's working for us and you just had to come in here and fuck it all up.”
“Fine,” I say. “I'll back off. Just let Paige go, and Port Safira is all yours, man.”
“Yeah, it's too late for that.”
“Then, what in the fuck am I doing here?” I ask. “What do you want?”
“The price has gone up, Liam,” Damon says, his tone cool. “You've pissed me off and now you're going to have to pay an asshole tax to save your dear, sweet Paige's life.”
“Done,” I say. “Name your price.”
“Your ass,” he says. “I want everything you own. Everything.”
“Except for that house on the hill,” Brittany chimes in. “I actually like it and want to keep it. Maybe as a summer home or something. Either way, it's mine.”
Paige struggles against her bonds, trying to scream through her gag, but it only comes out as muffled mumbling. I give her a look and a shake of the head, trying to tell her that everything is going to be okay. Not that I know it actually will be, but I don’t want her freaking out.
“Fine,” I say. “I'll rescind the divorce order and sign everything over to Brittany. Happy?”
“No, not yet,” Damon says.
“What the fuck else is there?”
“I need to make sure that I'm never going to have to deal with you again,” he says. “You're going to have to die tonight, Liam.”
I feel a jolt of fear tear through me, but I hold it down inside. I'm not going to show that to them. They don't deserve it. I look at Paige again and see tears rolling down her cheeks. She's shaking her head, trying to tell me not to do it. Not to trade my life for hers.
“So, what?” I ask. “One of you is going to kill me?”
“No, a random homicide brings up too many questions,” Damon says. “And we want to avoid that, if at all possible.”
“You are going to kill yourself,” Brittany chirps. “And personally, I can't wait to see it.”
“That was one of the conditions for her assistance,” Damon says dryly. “She wanted to be here to watch you die. Clearly, you've pissed this woman off in ways I've never seen before. Kudos to you on that, Liam.”