Page 148 of Exposed

“That’s why our wires went quiet again. They got their tech genius back,” I agree.

“Genius is a relative term,” Ozzy mutters.

“Says the resident genius,” Cole adds.

Ozzy puts a hand up to quiet everyone. “Here it is. You’re going to want to hear this.”

I look down at Goldie. “You ready?”

“Are you kidding?” She straightens her spine. “I want you to take everyone in that room down. And I want to know everything Dex has done so I can get my inheritance back and bring The Pink back to its glory.”

Goldie

We sitlike flies on a wall.

I’m in awe.

“Armstrong came through. The money was deposited offshore two days ago. I say we give him a big load this time.” Amelia might be old and barely stands at four-foot-ten, but the woman is savage for an accountant.

I look up at King. “I still can’t believe she’s in on everything. I thought she was just the day-to-day bookkeeper. I think the only ones who aren’t cartel members are the food and bar staff. And, of course, me.”

“Baby, think about what they did to you. I promise, if someone wasn’t serving food or drinks, they were dirty.”

I turn back to the recording. Ozzy told us it played out last night late after the staff cleaned up from their last event. The time stamp on the video shows it was in the middle of the night.

Dex shakes his head and looks at Anderson. “Have you figured out his connection to Goldie yet?”

Anderson has always been the quiet one. He hardly talks but when he does, everyone listens. “No. And I can find anything on anyone. And since we took Shaw out, there’s no way to confirm that connection. Armstrong is like a ghost who popped up out of nowhere.”

“Well, that explains what happened to Shaw,” I mutter.

Amelia slams her wrinkled hand on the table with impressive force. “If you want me to do my job, let me do it. I can only move so much cash through The Pink. We’ve got moneystacking up like old newspapers and any drug dog will hit on it. Sending it to Panama through the Armstrong guy is our best bet right now, Dex.”

A shiver runs up my spine when Rand cracks his knuckles. “You want me to remind him who’s in charge again?”

I lean into King. The thought of him being hurt again makes my skin crawl.

Dex almost rolls his eyes at Rand. “He got the message the first time and took it like a man. There’s nothing about him not to trust other than his connection to Goldie.”

I pull in a deep breath and look up at King. “It looks like you picked the wrong person to get you into The Pink.”

Rand pipes in again. “He threw down for her at dinner that night and came after me. Seemed like a real fucking threat to me when I took one in the throat.”

Dex starts to lose his temper and points at Rand across the table. “Shut the fuck up. If I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.”

Rand cowers and stares at the table in front of him.

Anderson flips open a laptop. “Can we get to the real reason we’re here? The load will be delivered late on Saturday. The same day you scheduled your sister’s wedding. Not good.”

Dex shrugs. “Not a big deal.”

“It’s a big deal, Dex,” Anderson argues. Never once have I ever seen him speak so much at one time and never in this tone. “You delivered your warning to Goldie Carter months ago. This obsession you have with her coming back for what’s hers is a distraction none of us can afford. This load is too important for us to be preoccupied with your sister. She signed your contract, and she thinks it’s real. Be done with it.”

I straighten and push away from King, but can’t take my eyes off the monitor.

Dex jams his finger at the table. His expression exudes cold, evil anger. “When she was alone and scared, I didn’t have to worryabout her. She’s not alone anymore and she’s definitely not scared. She waltzed back in here with her fiancé who acts like more of a bodyguard. If she grows a pair and realizes the contract she signed was bogus since there’s no fucking way I can file anything in court without gaining the attention of people I do not need nosing around in my business, she’ll come back for what’s hers. She has Armstrong who seems to be bleeding money from whatever fucking business he runs in Central America. She’s got the means for an attorney, so don’t fucking tell me to be done with it. My fucking father,” he roars, “felt guilty on his death bed and changed his trust without me knowing. All of it was supposed to be mine. Mine! I’m not sharing it with some fucking wedding planner from fucking Virginia!”

Oh my gosh.

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