Page 43 of Assassin's Prey
He ignored the gesture, his mouth tight, expression ugly—a bulldog ready to fight.
“You don’t want to cause a scene, now do you?” I murmured and pointedly glanced at my hand. I was in control here, and he needed to realize that up front.
The man reached out a thick paw and grasped mine. A crushing grip. I stared into his eyes and let him see exactly how little he could hurt me. Then returned the favor.
His wince was barely perceptible, but it brought a smile to my face. “It’s a pleasure to meet one of my father’s oldest friends,” I finally said.
Redding extricated his hand from my grip. “Let’s not play games, Agozi.”
I glanced around the room. Charlotte stood just on the other side of Abby, silent, dark eyes watchful, her hand on a seat back. The chairs immediately on either side of us were empty, but not for long. There were already eyes watching our exchange with interest, just as Abby’s friend was.
“Society is a game, isn’t it?” I said. A front to cover up who you really were. Not that different from the life I’d lived, I suddenly realized. “Reality doesn’t surface till the masks come off.”
“Why are you here?” he asked.
“Why do you think?” I tilted my head, let my gaze wander down his tight tux and back up. Taking his measure. Finding him wanting. “It’s recently come to my attention that my father‘s estate is in the wrong hands. I’ll be taking it back.” I scanned the room glittering with wealth and power. “And everything that goes with it.”
Redding’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve been gone a long time, son. Walking back in, picking up where your father and uncle left off—that’s not going to be as easy as you think.”
Son.That one word was like a struck match, sending my anger into a bonfire of rage. I leaned across the table, getting close. Keeping the words just between us. “I think you’re the one who needs to be careful, Redding. You think that army you’ve hired can keep you safe? You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
Redding’s gaze dropped to Abby, trembling beneath my hand. “I know exactly who I’m dealing with.” His dark eyes speared me. “A man like you can’t afford to have weaknesses, can he?” He arched the brow. “Think about that very carefully, Agozi. I’ll be in touch.”
With a sketchy bow in Abby’s direction, Redding turned to stride from the ballroom.
“Levi?”
Charlotte’s voice was uncertain. When I glanced her way, her hand was on Abby’s shoulder. Supporting her. Ready to have her back. That one small gesture warmed me to her in a way nothing else could.
“It’s all right,” I assured her. And Abby. “Nothing to worry about tonight.”
The couple next to me arrived to take their seats. I sat as well, took Abby’s hand in my lap, letting my heat against her side steady her. But all the while, my gaze was on the door to the ballroom, the last place I had seen my enemy. The last glimpse I’d had of the man who wanted to destroy me and everyone around me. I knew it now, right down to the foundation of my soul—Redding was the one. He’d started this.
And he planned to finish it, no matter what obstacles I threw in his way.
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Chapter Nineteen
Abby dug her fork tines into a dry triangle of chocolate cake while the series of ass-kissing speeches went on. I’d lost track of who was talking a half hour ago following the speech where Sister Margaret honored several of the St. Mary’s residents who had achieved remarkable goals after being, literally, at rock bottom. Graduating from college. Starting their own business. Buying a house for their small children. Abby had watched, tears in her eyes, and I knew the stories reminded her of her mother and all that she’d achieved. And all she’d ultimately lost.
Now I eased forward until my chest cushioned Abby’s back where she sat sideways in her chair, and tugged her fork away from its owner-inflicted cake massacre. My tongue had protested halfway through the rubbery chicken, so my cake sat untouched in the middle of the table. I dipped my head until my lips barely brushed Abby’s shoulder. “I think it’s dead; no need to torture the poor thing,” I murmured.
She turned just enough to rub our cheeks together. “You would know. I’ll defer to your expertise.”
I managed to keep my snort between us. “Right. This expert says we should pick up some edible dinner on the way home. How could this possibly be ten-thousand-a-plate food?”
“It doesn’t matter how much you pay, the food is always the same.”
She’d had enough experience with these events to know. Thank fuck we managed to escape not long after the speeches finally petered out. It was late, but I made a call and, minutes later, swung by Miguel’s. When I returned to the car, I was carrying two large sacks of steaming hot, fragrant Mexican food.
Abby stared at the bags liked I’d scavenged pots of gold. “How did you manage that?” she asked, eyeing the closed sign prominently displayed on the door.
I focused on the road. “Miguel and I go way back.” Even farther than she and Charlotte did.
I didn’t tell her we’d run the streets together as teens. When Miguel ended up on the wrong side of a gang after sleeping with their leader’s sister, I’d taken care of the situation. When you wake up from a sound sleep with a knife against your balls, you’ll promise anything—and Mr. Tough Guy had.
Now when I dropped by, Miguel refused to let me pay. I glanced at Abby, grinning at the anticipation lighting her eyes. “You’ll never have better fajitas than this, I promise you.”
