Page 32 of The Forbidden

Kravitz inclines his head as I rise from my stool, looking neither flustered nor affronted. I leave the rest of my drink untouched and walk away from the Mardraggon booth, knowing damn well the man will follow me. He’s not here for the 1921 Shadow Reserve, the Rebel’s Toast or anything other than a second attempt to try to intimidate me.

I move through the nearly empty exhibit hall, keeping my eyes averted from the handful of people taking advantage of the lack of lines at the open bourbon booths. I walk right out the door, hang a left and move into the shadows because no one needs to witness this conversation.

The evening is cool but I feel flushed, and not in a good way.

Not in the way I felt ten minutes ago kissing Kat.

I hear the scrape of shoes and when I turn to face Kravitz, he’s lighting a cigarette. Blowing out a plume of smoke my way, his eyes pin on me. Luckily, the wind catches the foul odor and it drifts away before I have to smell it.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

The man tucks one hand in his pocket and shrugs. “Enjoying the festivities. Interesting charity gala.”

Not a direct answer to my question and I learned long ago not to waste my time on silly, petty games. I start to move past the man to head back into the building. “I’ve got more important things—”

“I’m here to provide incentive for you to get that case of bourbon for us.”

I halt, turn to face the man. He’s not in a rush and takes another drag off his cigarette, smoke pouring out of his mouth as he says, “I paid a visit to your father today.”

My body tenses but past that tiny bit of wariness, I can’t figure out how that makes me feel. There’s an implied threat but I’m not sure I really care. Every day that passes, it’s not antipathy I feel for my father but raw anger brewing hotter because of the things he’s done. As a result, I can’t say that I have a single concern for his safety, health or welfare. “And?” I drawl flatly.

The blond man stares at me a long moment before saying, “It was impressed upon him the need to turn over that case of bourbon.”

Nothing on my face gives away alarm because it’s not alarm I’m feeling. More curiosity. “And exactly how did you do that?”

He chuckles. “Oh, I’m sure you can figure it out. Your dad wasn’t moved by our request though.”

“That’s because he doesn’t have the authority.”

Kravitz nods, taking another drag from his cigarette. “Yes, Mr. Rafferty said as much, but we had to be sure. He knows you’re the one who turned your dad into the police as well as orchestrated his removal as chairman of the board. It’s also clear you don’t care if we hurt him.”

My smile is mirthless. “I’m glad you understand. I don’t give a shit what you do to my father.”

“What about your mother, though?” The man’s lips peel back in a vicious smile.

A pit forms in my stomach because while I don’t care what happens to my dad, I obviously don’t want my mother hurt.

I can’t let them know that though. They can never know she would potentially be a weakness. “My mother has chosen to side with my father. I have broken all ties with both of them, so if you’re trying to get to me through them, it’s a waste of your time.”

He takes another drag, tossing the butt onto the concrete and crushing it with the toe of his shoe. He blows out smoke and then pins me with a cold look. “I guess that makes you our primary target then. Pity… so much easier to send a message when we know you have someone to care about. I guess we’ll be seeing you next Tuesday.”

For a moment, I have no clue what he means about next Tuesday, but then I remember they said they would come back in one week. I had so thoroughly dismissed their demand as ludicrous, I never thought they would follow up. “Don’t bother. I won’t have that case.”

“We’ll still come by and have a talk. I’m sure we’ll be able to come to an understanding.”

The man starts to walk away but I stop him with my next question. “I don’t understand why your boss doesn’t get the equivalent of money from Lionel. He’s good for it.”

Kravitz turns back to me. “Yes, we know your father has plenty of money. Mr. Rafferty has plenty of that too. He has more than he knows what to do with. But he loves to collect things and that case of Shadow Reserve Barrel is what he wants. It’s what he was promised.”

I’m getting frustrated with how dim this guy is. “Again, my dad bet something he doesn’t own. It wasn’t his to wager.”

“Ownership doesn’t matter. Especially when you have the ability to produce it.”

Un-fucking-believable. “You better come at me with something more than threats.”

The man bobs his head. “Challenge accepted. See you Tuesday.”

I don’t say anything else and there’s no need for me to argue with him further. I watch as he melts into the darkness, briefly considering whether I should call the police. But I’m not even sure what I would say. Nothing criminal has been done at this point.

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