Page 83 of Double Bucked

“That’s why you hired Wolfpack,” I tell him. “We’re the best at what we do. As long as Claire is under my protection, she’ll be safe. You have my word.”

His mustache relaxes.

“They’re after me,” he says. “They want my fortune and my legacy. When I’m done for, they’ll turn to Claire next.”

“They?”

He pets his mustache again. His irises go unfocused. There is an edge of madness to this man, and I feel I’m losing him to it. “The society,” he says. “They’ve been trying to kill me for years.”

“Why?”

He looks out the window. Searching. “I put myself in debt to them,” he says. “A long time ago. Now, they want to collect. They don’t want my money. They want my flesh. Claire’s flesh. And they won’t stop until they find her.”

Okay. Let’s redirect.

“What does she like?” I ask.

“Who?”

“Your daughter.”

He thinks. “Horses.”

“Horses?”

I’m no good at regulating my tone. I can’t control the bite. He shifts uncomfortably. “Yes. Horses.”

He’s proven himself useless, so I move on to a different tactic. “Does she have a room here?”

He nods. “Yes.”

“I need to see it.”

He stands. I take his cue and get to my feet as well. He glances up at me, and I don’t miss the downturn in his mouth. I have an uncanny ability to annoy people simply by getting to my feet. The height difference between us is staggering. The crown of his head reaches my chest.

I’ve learned to keep pace a couple of feet away so I don’t crowd him.

Before we exit his office, my feet stop at the doorway.

I cast one last glare at the grandfather clock. “You need to dismantle that clock.”

His eyebrows furrow. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

He leads me out of the office and down the hall. We come to a locked door. He opens it but then steps back.

Like a vampire, he can’t seem to cross the threshold.

I give him an out. “I’ll find you if I have any questions.”

He nods tightly, but before he leaves, he makes sure to tell me, “Don’t move anything.”

I step inside. The air is stale, as though the room has been kept like a museum.

The room is bathed in a soft, purple hue. I close the door behind me. I open the blinds. The light catches on dust, and I crack open a window.

It’s quiet in here. I take a breath. I pull out my phone, turn off the music, and turn on the mic.

I touch my glasses. “Do you have eyes?”

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