Page 42 of Tied

“Come on, Cain,” she interrupts impatiently. “I saw you as Mr. Hewett, and I know how excited my boss was to land a business account with you. You were known as the super big investor that everybody was after—how could you possibly fake that?”

She’s right about that. I’ve lied my way through life in many ways, but the money in my bank accounts is real. It may not be clean money, but it’s mine. My father left me with a substantial amount when he was killed, and he didn’t do it the conventional way. He knew that there was a good chance that the Covey would get to him and he wanted to be sure that I was taken care of. Since the money was blood money, it wasn’t kept in a traditional bank account but in a sealed box buried in the woods about a mile from our house. I waited a few months before I retrieved the money, but once I did, I decided to be smart about using it to secure my future.

Smart and cunning. You’d be surprised how easy it is to grow wealth when you don’t play by the rules.

“You’re asking me to do something quite dangerous,” Riley goes on. “I think it’s only fair that I get paid for a job this risky. Especially if you want it done right.”

She raises an eyebrow at me, sass dancing across her features now.

“If you don’t do the job as asked, your sister will pay with her life,” I remind her. “Isn’t that enough motivation?”

She shakes her head. “It’s not about motivation, Cain. This will be my hush money. What you’re asking me to do to the Covey could easily be done to you in return.”

I can’t believe it. Is she fucking threatening me?

“You wouldn’t—”

“Yes, I would, and I can,” she interrupts me. “But I don’t want to.”

Our eyes lock, and I’m surprised to see something else in her gaze now. She’s silently pleading, but it’s not out of fear. She’s not begging for her release or for mercy, but for understanding. She’s ready to help me, but she wants to do it under the understanding that it’s not based on force and fear of punishment, but as equals.

How about that, Machiavelli? Is it really better to be feared than loved by those you want to govern? Or is it all about knowing how to push their buttons?

“Fine,” I relent. “Did you have a sum in mind?”

“Fifty thousand,” she blurts out right away. She edges up taller where she is sitting as she awaits my reaction.

How cute.

“Fifty thousand. You came up with that number rather fast.”

“It’s about what I would have earned in my first year at the job ‘Mr. Stanford’ was interviewing me for,” she explains. “Well, actually it is a bit more, considering that I’m not paying taxes on your ‘dirty money’.”

I ignore that little side blow and nod.

“Fifty thousand it is,” I say, extending my hand for her to seal the deal with a handshake. She could have asked for double that amount. I know that Riley is not accustomed to the lifestyle I’m used to, and it shows in the fact that she’s asking for such a small amount.

She hesitates for a moment, casting one last suspicious glance at me before she reaches her hand out to shake mine.

“Okay,” she agrees solemnly. “We have a deal.”

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