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“My house, then. A neighbor up the street just sold for two million, with a smaller lot and no pool. Mine’s got to be worth more.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong here, but didn’t you come to me last month for that hundred grand because the bank refused to give you a third mortgage?”
I don’t push back, because it’s true. There’s more debt than equity in our home, way more. If Maxim found out how much, he’d sic his goons on me for even suggesting it.
“You know me, Maxim. I pay my debts on time. And you’ve seen how hard I work. I work my ass off.”
“How hard you work is not the issue, Cam. The issue is the shaky economy on the other side of these walls, and that Bolling Way is the only decent property you got but you don’t own it, and that nowhere but in Buckhead are people falling over themselves to pay a hundred bucks for a Lasky dinner when they can toss a decent steak on the grill at home. Tell me, how many times a night do you turn the tables in your other shops?”
I don’t answer, because Maxim is not wrong. The only shop pulling in any sort of decent revenue is—wasBolling Way. It’s what was keeping the others afloat.
“Please, Maxim. I am a desperate, desperate man. I’ll pay whatever you want. I will run your kitchens and cook your steaks until the end of time. Just please. I am begging you.”
He stubs the cigarette out, then pulls a fresh one from the pack. “I’m a businessman, Cam. You’re a businessman. Let me ask you, if you were sitting where I’m sitting right now, would you do it? Would you give yourself the loan?”
No.Hellno.I’m not stupid. Only desperate.
I flash a glance at my watch, and my heart wants to crawl out of my chest,Alien-style. It’s 6:10, and home is still more than a thirty-minute battle through Buckhead traffic.
I swipe a sleeve over my clammy forehead. “What do you want, Maxim? Tell me what you want as collateral, and I’ll give it to you. I’ll do any...”
My words trail as I get a look at the back of a head, the greasy-haired man leaning around me to swipe the dirty ashtray from the desk. It’s the first time I’ve seen him from behind, seen that what I first thought was a slicked-back style is really something much more elaborate—a thin patch of scraggly hair combed over a mostly bald crown, then gathered into a wispy bun at the nape of his neck.
A man bun.
He turns to dump the ashtray into a can, and I get a closer look at his face. Deep marks, purple and red scars run across his cheeks and chin and forehead.
“It’syou.You’rethe asshole who’s been following Jade around town. She told me about you.”
He grunts, and his expression doesn’t change. He just dumps the ashes into the trash can, bonks it against the side a couple of times and sets it back onto Maxim’s desk. No reaction. Not even a twitch.
Rage travels through my body like electricity, from my lips and tongue down my spine to the soles of my feet, then surges up and lurches me out of my chair.
“Sit down, Cam,” Maxim says, gesturing for me to drop back into my chair. “Nick doesn’t work for you anymore, he works for me. He keeps tabs on my investments. That’s what I pay him for.”
The words are like gasoline on the fire in my veins. Nick, the shady arsonist from the parking lot is also the creepy guy following Jade around town. My skin goes hot then icy, my right hand bunching into a tight fist. I am one second away from losing it when another realization hits.
“Oh my God. It’syou.” I turn, stare across the desk at Maxim. “You’rethe one holding Jade and the kids at gunpoint.”
Maxim glances at Nick, just a subtle flick of his eyes, and I know what he’s doing. He’s calling for backup, those two big bouncers guarding the door are probably already on their way. I’m making more than enough noise.
“You’re upset,” Maxim says, his tone calm and controlled, “and I would be, too, in your shoes, which is why I’m going to pretend you didn’t say any of that.” He squints, pointing at me with his lit cigarette. “But from here on out you’d do well to watch your words, do you understand what I’m telling you? Most people don’t survive insults like the ones you just hurled.”
My shoulders slump. My lungs empty and the room goes slippery, tinged with smoke and the stink of my own sweat. That’s it. I’m done. Uncle.
“Just kill me, Maxim. Put a bullet in my head and me out of my misery.” Me for my family. It’s a rotten trade, but Maxim will see it as a noble one, and at least then this whole nightmare will be over. “Just please.Pleasedon’t touch my family.”
A scuffling noise comes from behind me, two large bodies moving into the room, and I brace for what’s next—a tackle from behind, a blow to the skull or fist to the kidney—but Maxim stops them with a hand. “Sit down, kid.”
My legs give out, and I collapse onto the chair.
“Here.” Maxim pushes the cigarettes and lighter across the desk, and what the hell? I shake one from the pack and fire it up. “You and I have known each other a long time, Cam. We have history. And I shouldn’t have to tell you this, but whoever’s in your house right now is not one of my people. That’s not the way I do business. This has nothing to do with me. You have my word.”
For the first time since college, I suck a lungful of cigarette, and it’s like riding a bike. My skin goes tingly, my brain blissed out on nicotine. “Then who?”
Maxim shrugs. “I don’t know, but you could start by looking at who thinks you owe them seven hundred thousand and some change. The answer is in the number.”
I nod. “Yeah, but there’s more than one possibility, if you know what I mean.”