Page 43 of Blackmail
“I’m not afraid of that asshole. And I don’t see a cell phone in your tiny shorts.”
I pull it out of a hidden waistband pocket. “Step back, or I’ll call the police. Then I’ll call Brennan. One’s going to fuck your party, one’s going to fuck you.”
“Hey, Tony. Give me a hand with this guy? He’s had too much of something, I think.”
Tony’s expression changes in a second, going from angry to blank to smiling. He turns to a guy who’s got a drooling, slurring dude with one arm over his shoulder. The sober guy has something glinting from his belt. I’m not sure, but it looks like a police badge. The drooling guy looks familiar, but I can’t place him.
Belle Argo’s a pretty small place. For all I know, I ran into him at a coffee shop the other day. Mostly, I’m just grateful Tony’s distracted.
The little shitbag turns to poke me in the chest. “Better get back out there, hustler,” he hisses. “Oh, and tell my husband I said hello. Bet that sick fuck just loved mauling you in our bed.” Then he turns to the drunk guy. “Parker, you idiot. Let’s get you a ride home.”
Wait. What? That’s fucking weird.
I follow them all out into the main party area. I’m climbing back onto the platform, ignoring Ravi’s curious gaze. Tony and this other guy walk Parker out to the front door, heading toward that white catering van we passed on the way in.
How the hell did Tony know about me and Sebastian? And what’s wrong with this Parker guy? The man’s seriously wasted. It doesn’t even look like he can control his feet at all. There’s a feeling inside me like something’s off, but I can’t put my finger on exactly what.
“He’s gonna be in pain tomorrow.”
“Who is?” Rav bumps his hip against mine. He’s looking more relaxed now. Good.
“Some drunk guy. Never mind.”
I suppress a sneer of my own as I watch Tony leave. I tell myself I can’t stand the guy because he’s an elitest, entitled dick, and not at all because he’s married to someone I don’t want anyway.
Chapter
Fifteen
SEBASTIAN
I can’t seem to focus today. Or at all, lately.
Outside, another summer storm is raging. I’m supposed to be planning out our calendar for the third and fourth quarters, but the wind and beating rain on my window remind me a little too much of my night with Simon. I don’t know how long I’ve been staring out at the storm, but it’s been long enough for the sun to have nearly set. Most of the office has gone home.
Lehman walks in and tosses a newspaper on my desk.
“Another one? Are you serious?”
The paper shows two pictures, one of Dev, who disappeared last weekend, and Parker Nolan, who was similarly reported missing Monday morning. The latter was last seen at a “Summer Blowout” at a beachfront mansion.
Like Cam, Parker is the son of a local client. “They’re getting more frequent. This has to stop.”
“At least the papers are tying the disappearances together. Maybe that’ll get the police to take another look,” Lehman says, but in a tone that tells me he’s losing hope.
Frustration has me hurling the folded newspaper against the wall. “We’re up to five, Lehman. Five people have disappeared who were either clients or the child of a client, and the police have no clue what’s happening. Get the investigation team on this.”
The silence between us stretches long enough that I already know what he will say. He’s trying to devise a way to couch it because he knows I’ll be furious.
I preempt his response with one word. “Don’t.”
“Bas.”
“They found Cam. They can find the others. We can afford it. We’ve got low overhead and plenty in reserves, and if it comes down to it, I won’t draw a salary. We have enough in savings to cover expenses for at least a year.”
Unless Tony manages to convince a judge he’s entitled to half of everything I have. That will kill the business faster than our declining client roster ever could.
“And what if, like Cam, Liam’s team finds them but can’t get any information? How does this end?”
