Saint & Sinner - A Second Chance Romance

“Can I get you something to drink?” he offered, as he took another puff.

“Whiskey, neat,” I said.

He waved his hand again, and the same man who had rushed to prepare his cigar poured me a drink. He watched me take a sip. He didn’t have one himself.

“Good?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I’m not a connoisseur.”

He smiled, and it made him look even more dangerous. “No, they don’t serve whiskey in prison, do they? Not even to the smart boys.”

I didn’t smile back. “No, they don’t.”

“You went to a lot of trouble to find me. What do you want?”

“I want to say I’m sorry. I fucked up and put your project in jeopardy.”

He blew smoke in my direction. “Jeopardy? How so?”

“I made a miscalculation and lost a lot of my own and my clients’ money. I believe I have already been reported for mismanagement and there is a good chance my license will be revoked, and I will no longer be able to continue with my work on your project.”

“Hmmm … I spoke to Frank yesterday. He couldn’t believe you could make a rookie mistake like that. He didn’t understand why you didn’t sell when you had the opportunity. Why didn’t you?”

“I believed the market would rebound. I realize now I was too naïve, too optimistic, too inexperienced.”

He waved his hand to indicate he wasn’t interested in my excuses. “How do you intend to make it better?”

“I have a few million parked in a different jurisdiction. I would be happy to transfer it to you.”

He nodded. “How many million?”

“Three, give or take a few thousand.”

He nodded. “Yes, that would be acceptable. What about your house?”

“That will be sold to pay off my debts.”

He shook his head. “I want it.”

Of course, he was not happy with emptying out my bank account. Blood was not enough for him. He wanted a beating heart. “Right. I’ll work something out.”

“Good. What about the girl’s shop?”

I clenched my hands, but I kept my face expressionless. “She doesn’t own the property.”

“Yes, I know. I wondered what it would take to infuriate you. Now I know. You can go. My men will tell you where to transfer everything.”

“Not so fast. You can have everything I own, but I want something back.”

He smiled. It never reached those snake eyes. “I never negotiate. I tell you what I want and you give it to me.”

“No, that is not how this is going down.”

“You know, I was exactly like you when I was young. Brash. Arrogant.” He reached out and stroked his gun as if it was a cat. Then he took it in his hand, stood and walked laboriously around the table towards me. He put the gun at my temple. “Tell me, how is this going to go down, then?”

I could feel a muscle ticking in my jaw, but I stared straight ahead. “I walk out of here and we never meet again, you never send your men to ask me to do anything for you again. You forget me or my woman even exist.”

He cocked the gun and the room went deadly silent. “And why should I do that when it is clear you can be very useful to me in the future?”

The cold metal on my temple had no effect on me. I felt no fear. My hands were steady and my heartbeat was normal. I knew he would be wasting a bullet if he shot me now. No money, no house. I looked at the painting behind his desk. It depicted the scene of a battlefield. Could have been Italian or French. I was not an expert on paintings, but the old antique frame suggested it was a very important painting. I didn’t turn my head.

“Because,” I said softly. “You have stuff on me from many years ago, but I have dates and times and names that very interestingly connect to some unsolved murders.” I started to mention some names and dates. The pressure of the gun didn’t ease, but I felt that instinctive jerk in his body. “I have no intention of ever doing anything with that information. It is being stored very carefully by solicitors in New York and Boston. If anything happens to me or my family, and that especially includes my girl and her family, then they will be released to the FBI and all national papers. All I want is to live my life in peace. You have all my money, you’ll have my house. All I ask is to be left alone to live a small life. A life that doesn’t include crime. I have no Intention of ever seeing the inside of a prison again.”

He lifted the muzzle away from my neck and took a step back. “Well for that part, Wolfe, I can’t blame you, we try to stay outta there too, kinda bad for business. Where did you come by your information?”