Page 15 of Dark OZ

“I’m worth more than fifty grand,” I said, speaking up.

Crowe swiveled around, his face mere inches from mine. At the same time, Danny said, “You think Westin will pay more than $50K?”

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” he hissed at me. Crowe wasn’t wrong. This was a gamble, but if he thought I was folding while I still had cards to play, then he was going to have to get used to surprises.

I patted him on the cheek. “Shh. The adults are speaking.”

“Cute.” Crowe’s hand, still wrapped in mine, tightened in warning.

I pushed as far away as his iron grip would allow, doing my best to address all three men.

“Turns out, I recently became a very wealthy woman.”

“How wealthy?” Danny said, gesturing to the row of leather stools lining the kitchen island.

“Damn, now that we’re talking money, the hospitality comes out. Well, at least I know your moral compass points to your wallet.”

Crowe finally released me, and I walked the long way around the island to the stool at the far end. He didn’t let me stray far from him. It would seem he didn’t actually trust his friends as much as he originally let on. This newfound protectiveness was actually kind of endearing. I’d never really had anyone try to protect me before.

Swiveling on the stool to face Danny, I answered, “I have the entirety of The Farm and Cyclone Shipping’s funds to pull from.”

Danny sat up, shock and recognition twisting his features. “Thea, as in Dorothy Rosen?”

“Don’t call me Dorothy.”

Danny’s upper lip curled back and simmering fury glazed his eyes. A slight popping sound drew my attention to where he was clenching his fists tight enough to turn his knuckles white and tiny veins popped in protest. As soon as he realized I’d noted the change in him, he released his grip, and his mask of arrogance fit snugly back in place.

“I must have heard you wrong,” said the deep, measured words from above. “Because last I saw of Emily Rosen, she was an old miserable shrew, and you, pretty little flower, are not her.” The way his accent curled around the words added an extra layer of malice to every beautiful syllable.

Crowe inclined his head to the loft. “How about instead of acting like a heartless brute, you come down here and join the conversation.” The shadowed figure vanished, reappearing in the living area in a matter of moments.

Everything about his presence seemed to fill up the room. I couldn’t stop looking at him. His eyes gleamed a striking gray, like fresh tin. They cut through me like an axe, and it would seem that he was getting a good look at me for the first time, too. His assessing gaze faltered as it raked over the red streaks painting my legs and then again at the mark that had blossomed across my cheek.

I could feel the other men’s eyes on me, joining the stranger’s. If I wanted their attention, I most definitely had it now. “When I turned 21, all of the funds that I inherited from my parents were transferred from my Aunt Em to me. I just need the right person to help me access them and ensure that they can’t end up back in the hands of my aunt.”

It wasn’t lost on me that I was sitting, but none of the men sat. Making their height that much more looming. But then again, Henry looked down on me my whole life, and look where that got him. The image of his shocked, bulging eyes right before he was tossed into the air filled my mind with macabre satisfaction.

“I think maybe we need to start from the beginning,” Crowe said. “Gigi requested that one of us be available for the job tonight. When I met her at the rendezvous point, she told me to do a pick up in the basement but wouldn’t give me any information beyond that.”

“She was infuriatingly vague when I spoke with her on the phone earlier, too,” Danny added.

“I secured the loading dock and got a front-row seat in the security booth to watch this little firecracker beat Eastin Witcher’s face in with a snow globe.”

“Wait, Eastin Witcher is dead?” The third man asked. He leaned with both elbows on the island, and a flash of righteous anger flitted across his stony face. Whatever his story, there was no love lost between him and Eastin.

“She’s dead,” I replied firmly.

“With that stupid snow globe of the building she keeps on her desk?” Danny asked.

I shrugged. “I didn’t have many options.”

With that, the third of their party decided he was committed to the conversation and pulled a stool out to face the three of us. “We’ve all wanted to murder her at one point or another, but how is ityoumanaged to kill her? I find it hard to believe that you weren’t immediately gunned down. I’ve been doing this for a very long time, and I’veneverbeen able to work out a way around her security detail.”

I tilted my head to the side and took a moment to study the man. His dark hair was messy, like his idea of grooming was simply running his fingers through it. Equally unbothered was the way a light beard dusted his rectangular jawline. While all of it worked to emphasize his attractiveness, the really astonishing thing was his skin. What was once warm olive toned skin was stained with shades of grey and black. The stream of tattoos peaked out from beneath this tank and spilled down his arms to the tips of each finger. He must have sat for hundreds of hours under a needle. I couldn’t help but wonder what might have inspired him to undergo such a transformation. Anyone with that much ink did it for reasons more than aesthetics, even if those aesthetics were magnetic.

“Sure, cupcake.” I forced a laugh. It sounded fake, but I didn’t care. “You expect me to tell you all my secrets? But what about you? I don’t even know your name.”

“From where I’m sitting, you don’t really have a choice,” Danny countered.

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