Page 24 of Twisted Lies
I disconnected and promptly dialed Tabitha.
“You’ve reached Tabitha Thorp. I’m away on a creative sabbatical. Please leave a message, and I’ll get back to you when I return.”
I stared at the phone.Creative sabbatical?What. The. Fuck?
I’d known her for years, and not once had she taken any sabbaticals.
Damn it!
I didn’t know what was going on, but I felt like I was being royally screwed. I released a frustrated growl, and with a sweep of my arm, I knocked everything off my workspace.
7
Core
I snappedmy head up when my office door opened, and Ram, my business partner, walked in before closing the door behind him with a decisive click.
“That was the most fucked-up thing you’ve ever asked me to do,” Ram snarled.
I arched a brow. “The hell it was.” Pushing aside the contract on my desk, I waited for the brewing tirade I knew was on the tip of Ram’s tongue.
“Okay, not the most fucked-up thing, but a damn close second.” Ram sat down, running a hand over his head. “I still don’t get it.” He paused. “What the hell is this Sinthia Michaels shit about?”
I remained silent for a few minutes, trying not to lose my patience. No one in the McKay organization would dare question me this way except Ram. Our years of connection as friends and business partners had given him that right.
Ram kicked his feet up onto my desk. “Don’t give me that fucking stare, bro. I want to know. What the hell possessed you to give a fashion designer two million dollars?”
I leaned back in my chair. “You should know me by now. I don’t give shit away. I invested two million dollars,” I snapped.
Ram scoffed. “Well, you invested a shitload of money into a clothing business, and I’m pretty sure that was a dumbass decision. That pussy must be serious.”
I shrugged. “Fuck the two million. I spend that much on the upkeep of my house in the south of France. The money is nothing compared to what I stand to gain if my hunch turns out to be right.”
I still marveled at the fact that I’d come a long way, going from a vicious criminal thug to a legitimate businessman. Now powerful and rich, I could invest millions in a business that I thought would make a profit for me.
“This is bullshit, Core. You invested in a business you don’t give a shit about. Why?”
My temper flared. “You’re pushing the boundaries of our friendship, Ram.”
Ram leaned forward. “Like I give a shit. We’re family, and family asks questions.”
I closed my eyes in irritation before snapping them open. “I finally found him—Bigsby Calhoune, the man we’ve been searching years for. He’s been right under our noses.”
Ram sucked in a quick breath. “Bigsby Calhoune? The man running for mayor? How did you come to that damn conclusion?” He blinked rapidly, followed by an open stare.
“Remember the charity event you couldn’t attend?” I asked with a sharp tone.
8
Core
Manhattan.Nights Ago.
Flanked by my enforcers—whoroughed up my enemies and kept my business associates in line—brothers, Max and Rocco, I exited my luxury vehicle.
“Wait here,” I instructed them. “I’ll be in and out of this place in fifteen minutes.”
I didn’t normally mingle with New York’s elite, and I damn sure never did political fundraising events. I’d only accepted tonight’s invitation as a courtesy to Mitch Fillion. Mitch had stepped in and provided assistance with the legalities of a complicated and contentious company takeover that had been on the verge of crumbling. Mitch had proven to be more valuable and ruthless than I’d expected. I needed to keep men like Mitch—those who only cared about money, power, and status—in my pocket.
