Second, making false accusations could be very dangerous. Of course, I don’t know that for a fact. I’m guessing.”
“Sounds like a threat,” Jack said.
“Does it?” Jack looked like someone who regretted saying something he shouldn’t have. But men like Jack Davidson never knew when to shut up or stop gambling or stop abusing women. No matter how deep a hole they dug, they never understood when to stop until someone buried them.
“If anything happens to me, you’d be out a lot of money.”
“Hmm, not really. You should have checked the IOU you signed over to Max more thoroughly. If you default on your payments, or if anything should happen to you, the hotel reverts to Carpathian Enterprises in payment. Max loves the idea of owning the Regent. It’s small, but it’s a great hotel. That’s if you don’t succeed in fucking it up, which, unfortunately, I have every expectation you will. It’s your nature to fuck up things. Your father must be churning in his grave.”
Jack swiveled, nudged his scotch glass, and sloshed his drink on the bar. “That’s impossible. I read that IOU.”
“Read it again,” Alex said. “It’s right there in black and white. What clever attorneys call the small print. Now hand over the photos of Charlotte, and this conversation ends.”
Alex knew that calling in the IOU in a court of law would never happen. He couldn’t use the system to collect on a private gambling contract. That would be like a student calling the police to report his roommate stole his dope. Jack would know that when he sobered up. He also knew that Max had other ways of calling in his debt. Ways Alex didn’t want to mention. Ways he didn’t want to know.
Jack narrowed his eyes at Alex for a good thirty seconds, then pulled the photo out of his pocket and handed it over. His face contorted, and he looked physically ill.
Alex took the photo, glanced at it with disgust. “I want the others.”
“There are no others.”
“Bullshit. I want them, and I’ll get them.”
“What, Andros?” Jack asked. “I’ll be walking down the street one day, oblivious, and I won’t know what hit me? Is that how Max takes care of business?”
“You never know when lightning strikes, but the photos aren’t Max’s business. They’re mine.” Alex picked up his drink and took a long swallow. So did Jack, only he looked like he really needed it.
“I’ll get them to you,” Jack said.
Alex patted Jack’s shoulder. “Tomorrow morning, ten thirty. The coffee shop at Beacon and Charles.”
“I can’t get them tomorrow. They’re in my safe at the bank.”
“Don’t bullshit me. Your banker would get out of bed in the middle of the night to make you happy. That’s if you have them in your bank’s safe. I’m guessing you don’t. Ten thirty, tomorrow. Be there.”
“But tomorrow’s Sunday. I go to church in the morning. Make it Monday. I’ll have them.”
Alex laughed. “Church? You don’t say. See you in the morning.”
Jack’s face went from sickly pale to flushed. “That’s not a convenient location for me.”
Leaning closer, Alex spoke in the same controlled, menacing voice as earlier that evening at the museum. “It’s convenient for me.” He started to get up when he had a thought. “These were taken with a thirty-five millimeter?”
Jack nodded reluctantly.
“Then don’t forget the negatives. And all the pictures, Jack. Understand?”
Sweat inched down Jack’s hairline. He avoided looking at Alex. “Yeah, I understand.”
Alex glanced behind Jack and twitched a smile. “Well, look who’s coming to say hello. Your friend from the museum. Bet you have your hands full with her.”
“Hey, Jack,” Candy said. “Long time no see. Like a couple of hours. How’re you doing?”
“Great, Candy,” Jack mumbled. “Just fucking great.”
Candy made no secret of eyeing Alex. She batted her eyes and licked her lips, a female predator targeting her prey. She wore a white
“Sounds like a threat,” Jack said.
“Does it?” Jack looked like someone who regretted saying something he shouldn’t have. But men like Jack Davidson never knew when to shut up or stop gambling or stop abusing women. No matter how deep a hole they dug, they never understood when to stop until someone buried them.
“If anything happens to me, you’d be out a lot of money.”
“Hmm, not really. You should have checked the IOU you signed over to Max more thoroughly. If you default on your payments, or if anything should happen to you, the hotel reverts to Carpathian Enterprises in payment. Max loves the idea of owning the Regent. It’s small, but it’s a great hotel. That’s if you don’t succeed in fucking it up, which, unfortunately, I have every expectation you will. It’s your nature to fuck up things. Your father must be churning in his grave.”
Jack swiveled, nudged his scotch glass, and sloshed his drink on the bar. “That’s impossible. I read that IOU.”
“Read it again,” Alex said. “It’s right there in black and white. What clever attorneys call the small print. Now hand over the photos of Charlotte, and this conversation ends.”
Alex knew that calling in the IOU in a court of law would never happen. He couldn’t use the system to collect on a private gambling contract. That would be like a student calling the police to report his roommate stole his dope. Jack would know that when he sobered up. He also knew that Max had other ways of calling in his debt. Ways Alex didn’t want to mention. Ways he didn’t want to know.
Jack narrowed his eyes at Alex for a good thirty seconds, then pulled the photo out of his pocket and handed it over. His face contorted, and he looked physically ill.
Alex took the photo, glanced at it with disgust. “I want the others.”
“There are no others.”
“Bullshit. I want them, and I’ll get them.”
“What, Andros?” Jack asked. “I’ll be walking down the street one day, oblivious, and I won’t know what hit me? Is that how Max takes care of business?”
“You never know when lightning strikes, but the photos aren’t Max’s business. They’re mine.” Alex picked up his drink and took a long swallow. So did Jack, only he looked like he really needed it.
“I’ll get them to you,” Jack said.
Alex patted Jack’s shoulder. “Tomorrow morning, ten thirty. The coffee shop at Beacon and Charles.”
“I can’t get them tomorrow. They’re in my safe at the bank.”
“Don’t bullshit me. Your banker would get out of bed in the middle of the night to make you happy. That’s if you have them in your bank’s safe. I’m guessing you don’t. Ten thirty, tomorrow. Be there.”
“But tomorrow’s Sunday. I go to church in the morning. Make it Monday. I’ll have them.”
Alex laughed. “Church? You don’t say. See you in the morning.”
Jack’s face went from sickly pale to flushed. “That’s not a convenient location for me.”
Leaning closer, Alex spoke in the same controlled, menacing voice as earlier that evening at the museum. “It’s convenient for me.” He started to get up when he had a thought. “These were taken with a thirty-five millimeter?”
Jack nodded reluctantly.
“Then don’t forget the negatives. And all the pictures, Jack. Understand?”
Sweat inched down Jack’s hairline. He avoided looking at Alex. “Yeah, I understand.”
Alex glanced behind Jack and twitched a smile. “Well, look who’s coming to say hello. Your friend from the museum. Bet you have your hands full with her.”
“Hey, Jack,” Candy said. “Long time no see. Like a couple of hours. How’re you doing?”
“Great, Candy,” Jack mumbled. “Just fucking great.”
Candy made no secret of eyeing Alex. She batted her eyes and licked her lips, a female predator targeting her prey. She wore a white
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