Page 52 of Merciless Heir
“I have friends,” she says. “And I didn’t have to buy them, like you.”
My smile grows. “You were young when your father went to prison.”
“If you want to have sex again, I’d stop this line of questions.”
“Is that you propositioning me?”
“Threatening.”
“Pity,” I mutter. “I could do with a distraction from all this bullshit of mother shaped suspicions and manipulative ghostly hands from the great beyond.”
“What’s your plan?”
This time I don’t pretend to misunderstand. “The same. Get the tiara back, stop the damn company from being dissolved and…” I stop. “But getting it back is the goal. Where is this lead?”
“I told you, this is some kind of meeting. I was told here, and I’m not sure who will turn up. Or even if this is going to happen. That’s why I wanted to meet you tonight. Later. After I did this.”
“And let you get in on the action?” I ask, trying not to shiver. It’s cold and my hair is still damp. Still, a few heated moments with Sadie would make me forget all about that.
What am I even thinking? I might want her, but it’s a terrible idea. One I keep veering right back into.
Sadie gives me a steady, long look and it’s colder than the air. “If you think that’s my plan, you’re an idiot. There are much easier ways to make money, and all of them far more pleasant. After all, they wouldn’t have anything to do with you.”
I just start laughing and I shake my head. “Who told you?”
“My ex.”
My laughter dies. I don’t like the scrape against bones her words have. “Close?”
“Yes. And it’s not what you think. Damon heard word, that’s all.”
I go to say something when she grabs my arm, sending sparks shooting through me.
“That’s him,” she says.
I look over and an unassuming man in a worn coat and balding head steps into the bar. “Who is it?”
“Saul Weathers. He’s a liaison, usually between buyers and sellers. But sometimes he whips up interest.”
“How do you know the difference?”
“You don’t.” She settles back, looking down at her hand and snatching it back. “Not until invites are handed out.”
Fuck this shit. I’m ready to go in there when she’s no longer pretending to be relaxed. The door opens and this Saul comes out of the bar and Sadie’s sitting forward, everything in her vibrating with tension. “Or he does this.”
“What?”
“He’s going to make a deal.”
We follow. It’s not too far, Sheepshead Bay, this time a small apartment. Sadie tells me to wait here in the damn car, but I’m doing nothing of the sort.
“This is stupid, Kingston,” she says.
I hook her arm through mine, hauling her close. “Yes, it is. Very much so. But sometimes you have to be stupid.”
“You don’t have a plan—”
“Do you? Other than more watching, waiting, doing nothing at all?”