Page 68

“The key part of that story is that she wasmyemployee, and they’remyrules. I can play by them any damn way I want.”
Christian and Vaughn chuckle at my prickly response but immediately quiet down when a recognizable group of men enter the club. It’s Dante DiAngelo and two of his right-hand men. It’s highly unusual that DiAngelo would visit the club without calling me first as a courtesy, which puts the three of us on high alert.
“Did he call?” Vaughn asks the question.
“No, he didn’t,” I say as all three of us continue to stare them down as they approach.
“Where’s Lars?” Christian asks in a low tone.
“He’s at the apartment.”
“Why?”
“I wanted my best men on Megan. Stop worrying. Dante DiAngelo is a friend.”
When it’s convenient for him.
“DiAngelo,” I greet him tersely.
“My apologies for just dropping by, Hunter, but a matter has been brought to my attention that I need to discuss with you.”
“Have a seat,” I offer.
He looks at Christian and Vaughn cautiously. “This needs to be in private.”
I take a sip of my whiskey and assess Dante’s intent through his body language. He’s trying hard to remain emotionless, as if whatever he has to say isn’t that important, but the tension in his hands tells me otherwise. He keeps twisting that signet ring of his that he never takes off.
“Let’s go to my office,” I offer as I stand. “Tell the server to send up some food and drinks,” I tell Vaughn and Christian.
“Will do,” Vaughn agrees reluctantly.
Dante’s men stay downstairs with Vaughn and Christian, which feels like a gesture to make me feel more comfortable.
It doesn’t.
“How can I help you?” I start the conversation once I close the door to my office.
“We’ve known each other a long time, Middleton.”
“Yes, we have.”
"I've helped you when you needed it." He's referring to Megan's family and perhaps a handful of other favors.
"And I've done the same," I say, reminding him of the time I saved his fucking life from his own grandfather, who wanted him dead.
“True; I think it’s fair to say that our lives are the sum of our choices.”
“Meaning?”
“I was approached three days ago by a man named Fabre out of New Orleans.”
My heart slows.
“And?”
“You know him?”
“I do.”