Page 19 of The Pawn
“I was out,” he says to him. “They were only here briefly. And if I had seen them, what business would it be of yours?” he asks me.
“Well, I’ve made it my business since Malek Lombardi has made it his to take what belongs to me.”
“And what is that exactly?”
“Allegra Moretti.” I see a tick in his jaw and study him, cocking my head. I realize something. “Don’t tell me you’re still sore I voided the contract the Morettis had with regards to Allegra and you?”
His gaze darkens, moving from me to Jet and back. “Shebelongsto the Moretti family. I was under the impression she was being held as collateral until such a time that Michael Moretti would repay his debt to you. I don’t like to involve myself in this sort of business, but sometimes it’s unavoidable, isn’t it? As long as you keep that business offmy streets, though, I don’t care what you people do quite frankly.”
“No? Hm. You sure think you know a lot about my business.”
“It’smy businessto know about the dealings of criminals within my state.”
I snort. “And what would you consider your relationship with a known crime family? I hear you and Alaric went way back.”
He clears his throat. “You heard wrong. That was my father, and his choices are not mine.”
“Did your father choose to negotiate a contract for Allegra Moretti’s hand in marriage to you?” There’s that tick again. He opens his mouth, but I cut him off. “Actually, I don’t care. Moot point anyway. Did you know Michael Moretti is dead?”
I know from the look on his face that he did not know until just now. “Dead?”
“Killed, to be precise. Bullet to the head. Left on the side of the road like roadkill.”
His face pales as he takes us in properly. When his gaze moves to the guard at the door, I block his view.
“Don’t worry, Governor. It wasn’t us. Now I’ll ask once and only once because I don’t think you have the stomach for violence, but you do have deep pockets. Did you have anything to do with the influx of cash Michael Moretti received in order to repay his debt to me?”
He studies me. I move so I can see the man who was at my back in my periphery.
The other soldiers are outside of this room, and we’re unarmed, but Moore doesn’t want a shootout at his house any more than I want to be dead. How would he explain itto his constituents? But I don’t like him. I don’t like his arrogance. His snobbery. And I think he knows something. So, I take the two steps I need to reach him and grip him by the collar, hauling him to his feet.
“Get the guards!” He calls out, but Jet surprises me when he reaches down under the cuff of his pants and draws a weapon. He cocks it and points to the suited man.
“Or stay put,” he says.
I’m impressed.
I walk Richard Moore to the fireplace, press his back to the mantle.
He grips my forearm with both hands as I glare down at him.
“Did you have anything to do with the money Michael Moretti suddenly had on hand? And, more importantly, what the fuck do you know about Allegra Moretti’s kidnapping?”
“I don’t. I don’t know about it. He asked me for the money, but I didn’t give it to him. I’m not stupid.”
“Aren’t you?”
A log slips out of the fire as the ones beneath it turn to ash. I glance down, keeping my grip on Moore. Picking up the poker, I push the log back and hold the poker in the flames, heating it as Richard Moore struggles to get free, a sweat breaking out along his receding hairline. A few minutes later, I raise the poker to eye level.
Moore looks at the red-hot tip of it, then at me. He holds his hands up, palms toward me.
“Amal. He said we’d have a new contract. I’d get Amal.”
“Fuck you will,” Jet mutters.
“Remind me how old you are?” I ask calmly becausesomehow, I always manage to remain calm during these moments. To remain in control.
“Forty-two this year.”
