Page 142 of Worth Every Penny

Martin blinks rapidly, and as his chin begins to quiver, I feel a surge of delight.

“You could have left the Lansens alone,” I continue. “If you had, maybe we wouldn’t be here now. But you got greedy, didn’t you? Had to take the artwork, Debbie Lansen’s jewellery, the spa project. You wanted to humiliate them all because you were bitter about what happened with Gerard and the company. If you couldn’t have the kudos of selling a thriving company and leading the spa project, you didn’t want the Lansens to have it either. But you didn’t deserve those things, did you? If you’d cared about your business back then, you’d have seen what Gerard was doing. You would have known before it was too late. But you never paid attention, did you?”

“What do you want, Nico?” Martin drags a hand down his face.

“I want it all returned, with compensation. I’ll get the details to you of the sums I expect you to repay. I want you to return the spa project to the Hawkston-Lansen team. You’ll make an announcement to that effect, then you’ll step down from the Argentum board. You’ll retire, for good this time, and you’ll fuck off out of London. Sell the house, turning over eighty-five percent of the sale money to me. Then you’ll move to a quiet village in the north of England. Somewhere wet and windy and fucking cold. Elliot here will be watching you very closely. If you come back to London, we’ll know about it.”

“And if I say no?”

I raise my phone. “Let’s find out, shall we?” I hover my thumb over the call button, letting it edge closer and closer until Martin breaks.

“Fuck you, Nico Hawkston. You’re a crooked fucking bastard. I always knew it.”

“Is that a yes? I don’t want to misinterpret what you’re saying,” I say, and Elliot flips back one side of his jacket to hook a thumb in his belt loop, revealing the butt of his gun poking from the holster. Martin’s eyes slide to it, then pop wide. “Because as much as I admire the Metropolitan Police Force, Elliot here could sort you out much faster. But the cleanup is a bitch. I want to be prepared.”

Martin’s face blanches, and there’s a pleasing tremor to Martin’s voice when he says, “There were no weapons last time we negotiated.”

“Last time, I thought you were a reasonable man. But now I know you’re not, more unreasonable measures are called for.”

I put a hand in my pocket, gripping the penknife Gerard Lansen gifted me all those years ago, and the inscription on the handle comes to mind.

Don’t kill anyone.

I’ve no intention of killing Martin, but I’ve never wanted to hurt someone more than I do now. He came after Kate. He took her project. He set out to tear her down, to humiliate her, to steal from her family. He fucking hurt her…I can’t let that go unpunished.

Elliot takes the Glock from the holster.

Martin’s eyes open wider still, until they seem like the only features on his face. He shrivels, his shoulders sinking into his robe. The sight makes a wicked laugh spill from my mouth.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Martin says, but his voice is weak.

Elliot takes a silencer from his pocket and screws it onto the barrel of the Glock. “Mr. Hawkston won’t have to do anything.” He snarls, upper lip curling away from his teeth. “In fact, he wasn’t even here.” A grin replaces Elliot’s snarl, and he winks, as if Martin is in on the joke. The shift in Elliot’s persona is so fast, he looks insane. Psychotic, even. Exactly the type of man who could blow your brains out on a whim.

Martin shudders and a guttural groan comes from his lips. “Fuck you, Nico. Take your luxury spas. And the Lansens can have their shit. Nothing decent but that Stephen Condar piece and the diamonds, anyway.”

A slow sense of satisfaction spreads through me. I always knew Martin Brooks was a gutless coward.

“And you’ll have to make it right with David Webster,” I add. “I don’t condone what he’s done, but that’s his shit to deal with. Really, you should have taken the cash I gave you all those years ago and made a run for it.”

Elliot raises the Glock casually, not even pointing it at Martin, but the old man’s hands shoot in the air. “Fine, fine. Just put the gun away.”

Elliot gives a slow nod, and Martin blows out a breath, lowering his hands. “It’s done. All of it. Everything you want. You have my word.”

“Your word better be good. Because I won’t let this rest if you don’t make everything right within the week. You have until Friday. If you fail to comply…” I shrug as if this is all terribly unimportant. “I’ll delegate your fate to Elliot, and he can choose what to do with you.”

Martin nods furiously.

I clear my throat. “One last thing…”

Elliot stalks towards Martin with the gun in hand, pointing it this time at his head.

Martin drops to his knees, hands wavering in the air, eyes bulging like ripe plums. “Anything. Anything at all,” he says, nodding furiously.

“Stay the fuck away from Kate Lansen.”

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” Martin blubbers.

I flip the folder closed and signal to Elliot that it’s time to leave. He gives me a glance that begs permission, and I nod myconsent, at which he fires a muffled bullet into the wooden floor at Martin’s knees.

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