Jardin's Gamble (Haven, Texas 9)

And he wasn’t. Even though she’d seen images of him on the news, they hadn’t done him justice. He should be as ugly on the outside as he was on the inside. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. In fact, she could see why women flocked to him. The good looks, the power, the money. She got it. But she wondered how many of those women made it out with their souls and with their lives intact.

“I’m going to hope I’m even better than your expectations.”

Don’t say it, Thea. Don’t even think it.

She had to forcibly hold in her need to tell him exactly what she thought of him.

“Why have you brought me here?” she asked.

He turned from her to her father then looked at her again. “You obviously take after your mother. There’s very little of him in you.”

“Something to be thankful for.”

Silvers grinned. “Indeed. You don’t like him.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You haven’t asked if he’s breathing, if he’s all right. You haven’t tried to go to him. To help him. To call me a monster for having him beaten. Not that we’ve done much damage, have we, Milo?”

Milo, the big gorilla-like man, just grunted.

“You’ll have to excuse him. He’d rather use his fists than words. Would you like a drink?”

He moved over to the small table that held a decanter. It looked so out of place that she had to blink a few times to make sure she wasn’t imagining it.

“I always bring my own glassware,” he told her. “That way I can be sure of the quality.”

Weird.

Focus, Thea.

“No, thanks,” she told him, trying to swallow past her dry throat. “Why am I here?”

“Ah, well, I thought that would be obvious, yes? You’re here because your father stole from me.”

“Stole from you?” What the fuck?

“Yes. See, your dear old dad has a bit of a gambling problem. And a drinking problem.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” she replied.

“Careful,” he whispered in a cold voice. “I won’t allow any disrespect.”

Holy shit. Her heart raced, making her feel ill.

Calm. Calm.

“How much does he owe you?”

“Fifty thousand dollars.”

“Fifty thousand dollars?” she asked with a bark of laughter. “You’re joking, right?”

“Do I like to joke about money, Marcus?” Silvers asked.

“No, boss,” he said. “You do not.”

“How can he owe fifty thousand dollars?” She reached up with her hands to tug at her hair. Fuck! This was worse than she’d thought. “How could you let him get fifty thousand in debt to you?”