Page 98 of For Your Eyes Only
“I heard you’re blackmailing a friend of mine.” I cut right to the chase. The less time I’m with this idiot, the fewer brain cells I’ll lose.
“Yo, I’m blackmailing a lot of folks.” He laughs, rolling his blue eyes. “You’ll have to, like, be more specific than that.”
What I really want is to slap that fake accent out of his mouth. He speaks like he’s got some level of street cred, and I’m pretty sure he’s from suburban Ohio.
“Blake van Hamilton. You have a porn video of her sister. I want it.”
“Oh, yeah?” His eyebrows rise, and he nods. “You into that? She’s all fucked up, and this old dude is licking her pussy. It’s sick.”
Anger rises hot under my collar, and I’m ready to grab him by the neck. The only thing holding me back is it won’t get me what I want.
“I’m not interested in the content. I want the video gone. I want any backup copies gone, and I want your personal guarantee it will never reappear.” Leaning closer, I level my eyes on his. “If it ever does, I will see that you’rehandled.”
He holds up both hands. “Yo, I didn’t know she was your girl, man. Grish said he needed dough, and I just had this on hand. No worries. I got you. Consider it gone.”
“And you’ll return the money you took from her sister. Grish doesn’t need it.”
That gets me some pushback. “Ay, man, that’s my only payday this month. I got to cover my tab.”
“Send it to this account. Now.”
His jaw is set, and I know this clown would be a problem for me down the line if I had any plans to hang around this shithole, which I don’t. He leans forward, lazily tapping on his phone as I watch, sipping my vodka.
My phone buzzes in the breast pocket of my rust-brown blazer. I lift it out to see the money is in the dummy account, from which I’ll forward to Blake once it’s no longer pending.
“That it?” His expression is as flat as the brim on his hat, and I notice his fake accent is gone.
“Pleasure doing business with you. Remember this next time you go after one of my friends.”
He pushes the air with his hand, turning and leaving the bar.
The band rips into a loud guitar song I don’t recognize, and I linger only as long as it takes to finish my drink. Avoiding the line at the door, I slip out the side exit into the alley.
I’m about to text Blake to let her know I got her money and the blackmailer off her back, when he grabs me.
Like a fucking monster, he comes up from behind, a six-foot-four tower of scarred muscle covered in ink, lifting me by the neck and pinning me against the wall.
“Fuck,” I grunt as heat floods my eyes.
He’s crushing my windpipe. Gritting my teeth, I clutch his wrist, doing my best to break his hold on my throat. It’s no use. This motherfucker is twice my size in every way.
“Let go.” I try to kick him in the nuts.
He growls something about me double-crossing Hana, and I realize he thinks I’m working with Ivan.
The only thing that saves me is Hutch walking up slowly. “Let him speak.”
Scar’s grip relaxes, and I drop to my ass on the dirty pavement, my back against the alley wall. They’re towering over me, and I shake my head.
“I’m not blackmailing Blake.”
They don’t believe me. I don’t really care, but it’s the only way out of this alley. It takes showing them my texts to get them to relent.
Scar walks away, but as I slowly rise to my feet, I narrow my eyes at Hutch. Blake has decided this small-town detective, former military man, is good enough for her.
I wonder…
“How would you feel about a little three-way split? I could skim it right off the top, and you could still be a hero.”