I looked down at his hand then back up at him. “Like I said, everything you need is in that folder. However, you do realize H.E.A.T. causes liver cancer?”
“Everything causes cancer these days, young man. People have to learn to use moderation.” I gave him a disapproving look and he laughed. “I’m just kidding. Don’t worry. We’ll fix it. I have a team of scientists who can do just about anything.”
“Everything but create H.E.A.T. or duplicate it,” said Rio from across the room. Bernie looked over at Rio, who was still studying the décor as if he was trying to get decorating ideas. “This drug has been my brother’s life work. What makes you think your people can do what he couldn’t?”
“Fresh eyes,” Bernie answered.
Rio shook his head. “Fresh eyes my ass. You don’t plan on changing that drug. And the truth is, I don’t really care right now, as long as my brother Vegas gets to sleep in his own bed tonight, so stop talking and start calling.” He finally stopped looking around the room and turned to face Bernie, staring him down as he spoke. “And leave that file on your desk. This ain’t a deal until my brother is home.” Rio’s tone had a commanding bass to it that I’d never heard coming from him. I was shocked by it, and Bernie was visibly annoyed.
“Very well. I’ll be right back.” Bernie placed the file on his desk then quickly glanced at his bodyguards before heading to a side room.
Rio didn’t say anything while we waited for Bernie to come back, but the way he paced around the room I could tell he was agitated. He hadn’t liked the idea of coming here to offer up the formula for H.E.A.T. in the first place, and was only doing it to save Vegas.
His phone chirped with a text just as Bernie came back into the room, all smiles.
Bernie picked up the folder from his desk. “It’s all taken care of,” he said. “Your brother is being released as we speak.”
I looked over toward Rio, hoping that news would put a smile on his face, but he was busy typing a text, looking just as mad as before.
Bernie had walked over to the bar to prepare himself a drink. “Scotch?” he asked me, raising his own glass.
I shook my head to decline. I wasn’t ready to celebrate yet. “What about the transfer?” I asked.
“Michael is going to take care of that right now.” Bernie took a quick sip of his Scotch then set down the glass so he could write something on a piece of paper. “Michael, take these instructions and make the money transfer for Mr. Duncan,” he said as he handed the paper to one of the guards.
Michael looked down to read the instructions then nodded his understanding to Bernie. He opened his jacket and started to reach for something, but then two shots rang out.
“What the hell—?” The blood drained from Bernie’s face as he realized that both of his bodyguards were laid out on the floor.
I looked at Rio. A minute ago he was holding his phone, but now he had a gun in his hands, and he was aiming at Bernie.
“What is going on here?” Bernie asked in a shaky voice. “I said I would transfer the money within a few minutes. Hell, I’ll do it now.” He made a move.
“Don’t even think about it.” Rio stepped forward, pointing his gun directly at Bernie’s face. I stared at my brother, unable to understand where this was coming from—especially since Rio was usually the least aggressive of all the Duncans.
Rio must have sensed my confusion, because as he kept his eyes on Bernie, he explained to me, “Those texts were from Paris. After we left the house, Elijah told them some shit you’re not gonna believe. This motherfucker here has been playing us, O. He’s been in cahoots with X from the beginning.”