Page 141 of Worth Every Penny

Martin’s face creases with pain as he sucks in a breath. Pressing a hand to his lower back, he drags his gaze up and down Elliot’s vast frame. “Who’s the dog, Nico?”

Elliot growls, deliberately snarling and exposing teeth. I half expect him to bark.

Martin shrinks, eyes cagey as he watches me click the door closed behind us and lock it.

“Elliot’s a friend of mine,” I answer. “A very good friend.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to pay for what you’ve done.”

Martin wheezes like an asthmatic. “It’s too late to save your little girlfriend’s spa project.” He watches me for a reaction, but I betray nothing. “I assume that’s why you’re here. Little Kate Lansen took your fancy, did she?”

I flinch ever so slightly, and Martin knows he’s caught me out.

“You thought you’d hid it so well, eh? I saw you out on that balcony at Jack’s drinks party. Couldn’t take your eyes off her. Terribly inappropriate, Mr. Hawkston. Taking advantage of your employee. Keeping her as your dirty little secret. But I do understand. So pretty. Great tits.” Martin cups his hands like he’s holding Kate’s breasts. Heat fills my chest. I want to hit the prick, but Elliot’s hand gripping my arm stalls me.

“And those legs. She’s the whole package. She grew up really nicely. Such a shame about her project.” Martin pouts his bottom lip and shakes his head. “Really was a tough decision. And telling her about her father…” He laughs that thick, choked laugh. “The way she fell apart. She wept like Gerard had died all over again. It was—” My fist cracks his jaw, making his head snap to the side and blood fly from his mouth.

Dark laughter leaks from Elliot, who shifts from foot to foot, enthused by the ruckus and eager to get involved.

Martin doubles over and spits more blood on the carpet. Before he can straighten, I hit him again with an uppercut to the jaw that makes his teeth rattle.

This time he stumbles, nearly collapsing. He grabs a side table to steady himself and drags the back of his hand over his mouth, smearing blood across his cheek. Energy pulses through me. I’m not done, not nearly satisfied, but I hold back. I need him conscious for this.

“You like knowing secrets, don’t you?” I question. “Hanging them over people’s heads. Like David Webster.”

Martin’s eyes widen and I hold out my hand for the folder Elliot brought. He hands it to me and I pull out photos of David with a much younger woman. The fool has been cheating on his wife for years, raising a second family on the other side of London. There are photos of him with a young boy of about ten, who looks so like David that a paternity test would be redundant.

“You blackmailed him, didn’t you?” I challenge, flashing photo after photo in front of Martin. “That’s how you got him to push the decision across the Argentum board. Threatened to tell his wife and kids about this other family?”

“I did no such thing.”

“We’ve spoken to him and he confirmed it.”

Martin curses under his breath. “So what if I did? He’s a cheat and a liar.”

“Blackmail is a crime, Mr. Brooks. As is theft and conspiracy to steal.”

Martin is silent for a moment, and I relish the stunned look on his face.

I stroke my jaw slowly, milking Martin’s shock for a few more seconds before I speak again. “There’s an important lesson I’ve learned after all these years in business, and it’s that you’re only as good as the people you employ.” I tilt my head, feigning sympathy. “It’s especially true if you’re going to do anythingillegal. I had a background check run on Daniel Hunter. Not the sharpest tool in the shed. Several previous convictions. Did you know that?”

Martin winces as I flick through the documents and images Elliot has compiled, pausing to show Martin several images taken of him with Curtis, AKA Daniel Hunter, at the storage unit in South London where they stashed Gerard’s art and the Lansens’ belongings.

“I don’t know what you think that shows.” Martin points at the picture. “I don’t know that man. He stopped me in the street…”

“Stopped you in the street multiple times, on different occasions?” I let out a deep chuckle. “Perhaps. Butthat man, Daniel Hunter, has agreed to testify against you for a reduced sentence. There are witnesses who saw the two of you in South London, going in and out of that unit at night.” I shrug. “Could be nothing. Could be something else entirely. But it doesn’t look above board, does it? Creeping about at night with a convicted felon?”

“This is the stupidest array of bullshit. You’re wasting my time.”

I pull my phone out of my pocket. “I have the head of the Metropolitan police on speed dial, Mr. Brooks. I’ll call this in if that’s what you want.” I glance at the ceiling, pretending to think. “That might be the kinder option than anything else I have in mind if you don’t comply with my demands.”

Martin stuffs his hands deep in his dressing gown pockets, fear crossing his face.

Beside me, Elliot puffs out his chest.

“You know the maximum sentence for blackmail? Fourteen years,” I say. “And conspiracy to steal and defraud? Ten years. Theft itself? Seven. And Daniel Hunter… You exerted coercive control over him, forcing him to sleep with Debbie Lansen as well as a long list of other things he’s told us about. I’m nolawyer, Mr. Brooks, but I’d say it’s likely you’re looking at a long run in jail. It’s like a fucking wedding buffet of potential charges.”

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