Page 10 of Fury
Slowly I inhaled, not wanting to bring his attention to the fact I needed to compose myself. Not wanting to show any sign of weakness.
“I don’t know what your agreement has been with Dave. Or how this account has been managed in the past. But my role here means that things have changed. There will be no mates’ rates.”
“Look, Heidi,” he chose his words carefully this time. “We have been using your father’s business for years. All our dead have been through these doors. All our dead have been stuffed into your big freezers out the back there. This isn’t just about mate’s rates and handouts. This is about loyalty.”
He paused, his dark eyes watching my every tiny twitch of facial expressions, no matter how carefully I was trying to conceal them. I had a good poker face. Always had. But this man seemed to find those tiny cracks and wedged himself right into them. I opened my mouth to disagree.
“Our club has been loyal to your family business in both some of yours and our darkest days.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’d better go ask your brother, Tommy. We’re not in the business of divulging sensitive information, either.”
I was distracted. The insinuation in this man’s words knocking me sideways. He could have been lying, of course, trying to displace me. But whatever his intentions were, they were working. I needed to get a grip.
“Well, Mr Fury. Whatever has gone before is now changing. Out with the old and in with the new, the saying goes. And that can extend anywhere from the staff,” I glanced at the closed door where I knew old Dave was straining his ears through the crap synthetic wood, “all the way to the customers.”
I wouldn’t be intimidated. By his size, the gruffness of his exterior or whatever veiled threat this was.
“Look…” he continued.
I held my finger in the air, mimicking his gesture of earlier, almost. I wasn’t intending on getting any closer to him.
“I will send you a new invoice. You may pay it or you may not. Your actions will let me know whether we proceed with the funeral arrangements of Mr Carter. There will also be an additional charge from the local police force for the arrangements necessary to cater for such a large funeral.”
“The police? Why the fuck would we pay them anything?”
His voice was a grumble, but the tone had changed now. Less friendly. More formidable. And it drove a shiver up my spine. Just the hint of trepidation creeping through me.
“The anticipated size of the event requires a police presence. It’s just the law.”
“Bull shit. We’re not having those nosy fuckers hanging around.”
The man was angry now. Any composure he’d had earlier was dwindling fast. And I should be worried. Fearful. But I was interested. His eyes looked like they had darkened a shade, even though they were the darkest brown I’d ever seen. His eyebrows almost met in the middle, thick and dark and making the little patch of skin between them furrow deeply. A strand of hair had broken free from where most of it was pulled back, snaking down the side of his face, dark and rich and wavy. His dimples had disappeared, and the slightly amused expression he’d worn all the way through the conversation had gone with them. But in that moment of fire and petulance, he was the most beautiful man I had ever set eyes on. And I needed him out of this office, promptly.
“Nothing I can do about it, Mr Fury.”
“Just Fury.” his tone was tight.
“Nothing I can do about it.” I wasn’t giving him the satisfaction of him hearing me say his rider’s name the way he wanted me to. “It is the law. Any other business you deal with will tell you exactly the same. Given the expected numbers, particularly those accompanying the funeral procession, it requires some closure of roads and policing. That’s just how it works.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“I can’t see the police changing their minds.”
He’d pushed up onto his feet, towering above me, even from the other side of the desk. His presence dark and dangerous, my heart racing in my chest, knowing I was poking a grizzly bear with a very pointy stick.
“Oh, lady.” There it was again, his defiance, a game of tit for tat, that it looked like none of us would win. “You have no idea who the Kings are. If you want your father’s business here in the north east to survive, I’d suggest you’d get finding out about us.”
We stared at each other for a while, our eyes locked, neither blinking, neither moving. But my cheeks had prickled with heat, and I was in danger of letting him see me blush. And that meant I’d lost this control dead in the water.
“Thank you for coming to see me,” I said eventually, breaking our connection. “Now I need to get on.”
I’d just dismissed him. And he knew it, too. He turned his back on me, moving through my office in a few long, pissed off strides, the dark denim jeans clinging to thick thighs and a round taut arse. Which walked right out of the door and out of my line of sight.
Fuck, I needed wine.
Chapter Five