“Yes,” I whisper, my eyes narrowing on him. “What about him?” I ask my voice slow and dangerous.
“My father is back in town. And he is a hundred times worse than he used to be,” Noah says his voice quiet.
I know it’s true. Not many people know about Conrad Knight. Those who knew about him knew it was best not to talk about him because his name was like summoning Satan. The last thing you wanted was Conrad in your face. Thankfully though he was rarely lucid enough to be in anyone’s face but Noah’s, unfortunately for him of course. I often wonder if Conrad is the reason that Noah turned out to be such a degenerate.
Noah, despite his flaws is an intelligent man, one who is fully capable of running a business, and making a gross profit. I know this to be true even though I am unable to track down the copious amounts of money he makes through the drug trade. I don’t know how he does it, and right now I don’t really feel like asking. He would probably lie to me anyways.
“Conrad is in town,” I repeat refocusing on the man before me. “What does he want?”
“What does anyone want?” Noah counters reaching for my fist and lowering it from where I clutch his collar. “He wants money. He wants a lot of it.”
“Have you given him money?” I ask my brow creasing as I wonder how this relates to Lucy. Did he take her hostage?
“My father knows of my success in the drug world. As you know I have quite a reputation for shrewdness and I am quite talented at making large packages disappear very quickly,” he says choosing his words carefully and watching me. “I have a lot of connections, friends in high places you could say. I am someone who most in my area of expertise respect.”
I laugh at that. I know it’s true, but the idea of Noah being a man worthy of respect just hits me differently.
“Noah, before we talk any further, I need to know. Is Lucy in danger at this moment or is she somewhere safe?” I ask before suggesting we discuss this further in my office. I feel like if Lucy were in immediate danger, Noah would be a little more fearful and less inclined to traumatic stories.
“No, Lucy is not in danger in this particular moment. I sent her somewhere safe. Close enough that I can keep an eye on her, but far enough that my father won’t be able to touch her.”
“Okay. Let’s go into my office. I’ll make you a cup of coffee and we can sit down and talk
about what exactly the hell is going on in this town.”
Noah nods his head and falls in step behind me. If anyone had told me that I would start my day off in the arms of the woman I love, imagining our life together, years from now, married with children, and then proceeded to tell me that I will have the greatest drug lord in our area waltz into my office, I would think you were crazy. But here we are. What a strange, strange world.
Walking over to my desk I gesture for him to sit down. “Alright have a seat, and I’ll get you that cup of coffee.”
“Thank you.” He nods his head at me. Whatever the story is, it’s bound to be interesting. Noah, in spite of his many flaws was never boring. Sighing heavily and closing his eyes he folds his hands in his lap.
“You know that my father is an abusive asshole.”
“Yes.” I confirm with a nod as I begin brewing the pot of coffee. “I remember him from our childhood. I remember you swimming in school and your back.”
“Ya,” Noah interrupts me, “You remember my father well enough.” He is clearly not wanting to discuss childhood memories right now. “Then it won’t surprise you to know that he hasn’t changed much in the last twenty or so years.”
I nod in agreement.
“Well, he got wind of my reputation and is now threatening me. He told me that if I do not help him with the shipment he is struggling with, then he will hurt my family.”
“What do you mean exactly?” I ask stepping forwards and passing him a cup.
“My father graduated from using to dealing shortly after discovering my success. He was hoping to build on my name, except the people I work with know my opinion of my father, know that he is not someone that I would encourage anyone to deal with. In fact, he’s probably the worst person you could probably go to for a sale. He is reckless impulsive and has absolutely no salesmanship,” he says.
“That’s funny. I wasn’t expecting there to be salesmanship involved in this, I joke, passing him the packets of creamer and sugar.
“Well, I am a salesman.” He grins quickly. “I sell drugs. You know it. I know it. Let’s not dance around the truth here. We don’t have much time, and I have already been pardoned for my past crimes.”
“And what about your current ones?” I ask while I rake my hair back from my brow.
“Allegedly I am back in business.”
“Are we talking hypotheticals here or not?” I ask taking a sip of coffee. “Fine. I agree we’re talking hypotheticals. So hypothetically what happened?” I ask with a roll of my eyes.
“Hypothetically, let’s say he demanded that I help him with the sale or pay him a hundred thousand dollars.”
A hundred thousand dollars I choke in disbelief.