Page 67 of Dirty Gambit

He motioned to one of the two men with him in the room to take the bag. Jaxon handed it to the bear of a man in the leather coat and black jeans without comment. He took it and gave it a jostle in his beefy fist. His muddy brown eyes lifted to the thinner man with an imperceptible shake of his head.

Travis, as Jaxon assumed he was, clicked his tongue and cocked his head in Jaxon’s direction. “Where’s the rest of it, Jaxon?”

It had dawned on him during the flight there that he’d never asked Lena how much was in the bag. It hadn’t mattered. But standing there with three pairs of watchful eyes on him, he realized she must have used some of it to fund her escape.

“I can get you the rest.”

Travis sighed. “That’s not what I want to hear, Jaxon.” He pivoted on his heels, grinding filth into the ten-thousand-dollar Afghan rug under his feet. “Okay, well, I’m a reasonable man. We can work something out.” He marched to the armchair and dropped into it once more. “What about the other things I asked for?”

Without being too obvious, Jaxon edged deeper into the room, hoping to catch sight of his parents. The family room had three open doorways in what his mother called an open concept style layout. Behind him, led to the foyer and the rest of the house. Ahead was the kitchen with its doors closed and the dining room was to his left, but he needed to be deeper in the room to see past the wall.

“I want to see my parents,” he said instead.

Travis blinked as if flabbergasted by the request. “Of course! Bring them out.”

The two men marched to where Jaxon could just make out bound feet. He recognized his mom’s white pumps and his dad’s house loafers, then they were being dragged out into the open and dumped just behind the sectional.

Both were strapped to chairs, bound by itchy ropes that were leaving raw welts around his mother’s frail wrists. Bits of fabric were stuffed into their mouths, stifling their voices. But both stared back at him with wide, horrified eyes.

“It’s okay,” he assured them gently. “Everything is going to be fine.”

His mother choked something and struggled against her binds. His father tried to nudge her to stop, but she kept shrieking against her gag and yanking on the armrests.

“Mom.”

Jaxon moved closer only to be pulled short by the second gorilla leveling a gun at the back of his mother’s skull. He stopped immediately, hands going up as he took a tentative step back.

“Okay. Relax,” he told the man in the coolest voice he could manage.

“Well, now that we know we’re all happy and healthy,” Travis clapped his hands together once and rubbed them together like a giant insect. “Where is my daughter and that bitch who stole my money?”

Jaxon gave his parents a final reassuring glance before turning to the man. “I didn’t bring them.”

Murky, bloodshot eyes the color of coffee grounds fixed on Jaxon with the air of true disappointment. “Was I not clear on the phone?”

Jaxon nodded. “You were.”

“Then why is this becoming a difficult transaction, Jaxon?” He drummed dirt encrusted fingers on the armrest. “You didn’t bring all my money. You didn’t bring the girls. Tell me why I should let any of you live?”

Across from him, his mother squeaked.

Jaxon ignored her. “Because you’re a businessman and that’s something we have in common. I’m going to make you an offer and you’re going to accept it.”

Travis laughed. “You’re going to make me an offer?” He snorted again. “Okay. Let’s hear it.” He smacked his hands together in front of him and clasped them there. “What is your offer?”

Jaxon didn’t hesitate. “I will buy both of them from you.”

Travis stared as if Jaxon had insulted him in pig Latin. “I’m sorry, you want to what?”

Refusing to be deterred, Jaxon moved to take the seat across from the thug. “Buy them. I know this isn’t an odd request for you or a new business venture. I want Jessie and Lena.”

Glossy eyes shifted to the two goons guarding his parents as if to check to see if they’d heard the lunacy.

“You want to buy my daughter?” Travis said, at last, facing Jaxon once more.

“What are you going to do with a toddler?” Jaxon countered.

The man gave a chortle that pitched into a full cackle. He slapped a hand on his knee. “I like you.” He sniffled and scrubbed the back of his hand under his nose. “You’re stupid as fuck, but I admire your balls.” He scrubbed the heel of his hand up under his nose, coming away with a shiny, wet streak across his palm that he swiped across the filthy thigh of his jeans. “And believe it or not, there are a million things I can do with a toddler.”

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