Page 95 of Laurels and Liquor

“They’re the best your payment could buy. I could get better ones, but that’d mean more investment from you,” Gideon says flippantly, and I’ve never wanted to strangle another human being more in my life.

“Where was the last place you had eyes on him?”

“He went home with a bartender. You don’t pay enough to have them watch two dudes going at it, so as far as they knew, he stayed the night there. But he never came out in the morning.”

“And when was this?”

Gideon sucks his teeth and hums, like he has to try to remember this. I know it’s an act, a negotiation tactic to make nervous marks think they have to do more, provide more in order to get more information. With the right type of person—or wrong type, depending on your point of view—these seconds of silence would lead to offers of more money in exchange for whatever you’re holding back. But I know this play because my father taught it to me first. So I stay quiet, my patience far exceeding my cousin’s. Eventually, he huffs out an annoyed sigh.

“Two nights ago. We’ve been trying to pick up his trail, but it’s not going great,” Gideon says eventually.

I curse colorfully under my breath. Seth Douglas has been left unaccounted and unsupervised for forty-eight hours. There’s no telling where he could have gotten to. I’d like to think this is just like a few weeks back when we thought we lost him when he was out partying, but he’d passed out in the bathroom of a club. Maybe he’s gone into heat and is bunked down with that bartender? It’d be naïve of me to assume the best when it comes to Seth, so until we know for sure, I can’t take chances. Rhett and Lydia are safe at Wickland House for tonight, but I’ll let them know to come home first thing tomorrow morning. Then we can figure out what our next move is.

“You need to fucking find him,” I press, my brain restarting and going straight into emergency planning mode.

“I don’t work for free, you know. I’ve got bills to pay, a lifestyle to uphold,” Gideon says, sounding for all the world like he doesn’t want to extort my pack’s safety to make a quick buck.

“Leopold, is that you? God, it’s almost uncanny how much you sound like him,” I toss back in a light, overly sarcastic tone.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, Lexi. Maybe if you were more like your father, you wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.”

I growl low in my throat. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“Remember when he took us to the homeless camp under the bridge? We were, what? Twelve?” Gideon asks randomly.

I have to swallow a bitter laugh. “Ten,” I correct.

I’ll never forget that day for as long as I live. My father took Gideon and me to one of the many tent cities in Baltimore, pulling up in our Rolls Royce to stare at people who had nothing except the clothes on their backs. He’d talked about how much of a problem those “leeches” were on the city and the hardworking taxpayer, but all I could see were people in need of help. And my father told us how he was working with the city council to turn this spot into something useful to society, not the ugly eyesore. He was right about it being ugly, but that was because it was a reflection of the ugliness inside of people like my father. People who were too busy chasing a dollar to stop and think about their fellow human beings.

“He saw a problem and solved it. He didn’t spend years going back and forth, trying to appease people who didn’t deserve it. Decisive, firm action,” Gideon says, pulling me out of my memories.

“Is that what you took away from that day?” I ask in a dry monotone.

“All I’m saying is that maybe if you’d had a bit more of that, then we wouldn’t be out here trying to chase down your loose end,” he replies.

“I don’t tell you how to live your life, so I’d thank you not to tell me how to live mine,” I say, words cold and clipped.

“You’ve always thought you were better than us, but you’re still a St. Clair,” he says, and now I know he’s just trying to get a rise out of me.

“You’re wasting time. Find Seth, or—”

“Or what? Listen, we both know you’re out of options. So pay me, and we’ll do our jobs. And if you send me enough, we can make sure this doesn’t happen again, if you catch my drift,” he cuts in, dropping to a murmur toward the end.

Unfortunately, I do catch the smoke he’s blowing in my face. And for a split second, I’m tempted. But an inquisitive little tug on my bond with Lucas stops that thought in its tracks, along with a series of hard knocks on my office door. No, I’m better than murder. Seth is still a person, and unlike what my father thinks of himself and our family, having money and power doesn’t mean we get to play God.

“I’ll send you what I can tonight, but it’s after hours, so you’ll have to wait until banks open on Monday for the rest,” I reply, trying not to give away how much it pains me to do this.

“Then I guess we’ll do what we can. I hope whatever you send will cover it. Who knows what can happen in a few days?” he says in mock concern.

He’s officially hit the end of my patience, and a little voice in the back of my mind unhelpfully reminds me that this is exactly why I had to get away from my family in the first place. This is what unfettered arrogance and affluence will do to a person. But I’ve had enough with the games. My pack’s safety isn’t up for debate, and I won’t let this megalomaniac in training get away with thinking he can play with our lives for kicks.

“Fuck you, you greedy little fuck knuckle. That sociopath you lost wants my omega dead, and you’re over here demanding money. My father must be so proud to have an heir just as heartless as he is!” I whisper-shout, increasingly aware of Mateo and Lucas outside of my door.

“You don’t have to resort to name calling, Lex. I only need a couple thousand, enough to cover some bribes, equipment, et cetera,” Gideon replies, seemingly unruffled.

I pull the phone away to let out a closed-lipped scream before going back. “I hope someday that you find someone who can worm their way into your black heart, make you love them, and then I hope something happens to her, so you’ll know what it’s like to—”

“If you want my help with anything ever again, you’re going to shut your fucking mouth, Alexandra.”

---