Page 9 of Collateral Claim

“I have a luncheon at the country club in twenty minutes, but we need to talk. All three of us.”

“I can’t discuss business with you, Scarlett,” my father says from his position by the window.

“Are you expecting someone?” I ask.

“Wilfred,” he says.

“I wish you would tell me about this business. Perhaps I can help.”

“It would help if you sat down,” he says.

Quietly, I sit in the offered chair. “There. What else can I do to help?”

When my dad doesn’t answer, Endo covers my hand with his. “Play on with our fake engagement.”

I pull my hand from under his, his ring on my finger weighing heavily now. I completely forgot it was there. Which could be why Endo touched my hand. A subtle reminder. A subtle threat. He’s very good at communicating danger without saying much.

“Why would I do that?” I ask.

Endo peels the boiled eggs, then adds ham, turkey, bacon, lettuce, tomato, and pickles on a piece of bread. He squirts mustard over the food tower, covers it with a top slice of bread, and bites into the sandwich.

The mustard drips onto his white T-shirt. He regards it, puts the sandwich back on the plate, then reaches back to pull off his shirt. Causally, as if he’s not bare-chested at our table, he lays the shirt over his knee and continues to eat.

Three bullet scars mar his upper chest, and two on his midsection near his belly. At least two of these came within an inch of taking his life. Immediately, I imagine the pain he must’ve gone through. No, no. I can’t sympathize with a man who’s practically taking over my house, not to mention forcing me into an engagement.

“Excuse me,” I say, protesting his seminudity.

He pauses chewing and appears confused before offering me his sandwich. “You want a bite?”

I lean away. “No, thank you. I want you to put your shirt back on and tell me what you have on my dad that makes us have to cooperate with you.”

“I already told you. I want my brother back. Your dad knows where he is. Once I have my brother, you can have your life.Until then, you, he, Wilfred, this house, and the staff in it are as much mine as this damned sandwich. Since I’m making myself at home in your house, I’ll do my laundry too. Until I clean my shirt, it stays off.” He licks the mustard off the side of his finger. “You like looking at me anyway.”

I scoff. “Oh, please, get over yourself.”

He chuckles and pours himself some pineapple juice. “You sure you don’t want to eat?”

“I’ll eat at the luncheon.”

Endo glances at my dad. “Dani, you didn’t mention any prior obligations.”

“I don’t keep track of my daughter’s schedule.”

Endo tsks. “People are expecting her to be places, Daniel. I need to know her schedule so that we can plan accordingly.”

“Is there a problem with my luncheon?” I ask.

“I’m coming with you,” Endo says.

I shake my head. “I attend alone.”

“Not anymore.” He bites and chews.

Maybe he could choke? “I won’t go with you,” I say.

“Then cancel. I’m content to enjoy this house.”

I grab a butter knife.