Page 4 of Drowning Her

“Ten minutes of your time,” he said. “Don’t worry. I cleared it with your boss.”

I shoved the money in my clutch, then linked arms with him as we walked past Green, who stepped out of our way. I rubbed the scar on my hand.

“Ten minutes?” I repeated so that Green could hear me.

“That’s it.”

We took an unoccupied booth to the side of the room. A waitress came for our drink orders, and I helped myself to a long island on the Gray-Haired Man’s wallet. He stared at me, but without the lust I was used to. Like he was assessing me, trying to figure out what my ammo was. The waitress brought us our drinks, and I made a show of clinking our glasses together.

“I have an offer,” Gray-Haired Man said, taking histime with his words. “That cash?” He nodded at my clutch and I tucked it under my arm. “We own the Feldman Farms. Ever heard of it?”

It sounded familiar, but I rarely paid attention to that kind of stuff unless it had to do with a regular client.

“I can make this world go away,” he said, gesturing at the club. “Your boss? That man that’s been following you? He’ll never bother you again.”

I highly doubted that.

“So,” I tilted my head, “You’ll get rid of him?”

“Sure.”

“You’d kill him?”

This time, Gray-Haired Man laughed, smacking the table.

“Oh, sweet girl, is that what you want?” he asked.

I blushed, my cheeks furiously red. “Of course not.”

He shrugged, pretending like it was actually an option. “Don’t worry. I’ve already arranged a deal with him. But I want to ask for your cooperation.” I wrinkled my nose. What did he want? He wrote a number on the napkin, then handed it to me.

1,000,000.

I blinked. I don’t care what kind of farm he owned; Gray-Haired Man didn’t have that kind of money. I pushed the napkin back to him.

“I don’t understand,” I said.

“It’s yours.”

“What’s the catch?”

He finished the rest of his whiskey, then laced his fingers together. “Marry my son,” he said. “Screw him. Make him—” he paused, rubbing a hand over his chin, “—make him forget about his duties for a while. The boy needs it.”

“Marry your son?” I squeaked. Gray-Haired Man nodded. “Is he, like, weird or something?”

“I want him to be challenged by more things than work.”

Plenty of the farmers came down from Crown Creek, but none of them had that kind of cash. What kind of farming business did he own?

I’d better get everything I could.

“Add fifty percent,” I said.

He chuckled again, then crumpled the napkin in his hands, a sense of violence lingering in his eyes. I shifted back in my seat, cupping the edge of the cushion.

“It’s already been arranged. One million for your cooperation. Not a cent more,” he said.

My heart clenched. A million dollars was a lot of money.

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