Page 66 of The Pawn

“That’s your job.”

“Except that he came to me half-dead.”

“Isn’t that what you’re used to dealing with?”

“Don’t fuck with me, Severin. Did he tell you anything?”

“Nothing of value. Someone on a bike dropped off cash. His mother was home, but saw nothing of course.”

“Yeah, that’s what I got.”

He takes a deep breath in, exhales audibly. “I want the deed to the Atlantic City property back, Cassian. That’s the only reason I’m here.”

“And you want me to just hand it over?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“Why would I do that? Because you handed me a half-dead man?”

“Because maybe I had a camera installed at the house where that cash was delivered.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I keep a close eye on anyone who’s charged with protecting my family. Always have. Always will.”

“I’m guessing without their knowledge.”

“Page out of your book?”

“Nah. Too subtle for me. You’ve seen the footage?”

He nods. “I think you’ll find it interesting. I did.”

“How so?”

“The deed, Cassian.”

I study him. Is he bluffing? I don’t think so. Severin Blackstone wouldn’t waste his time trying to fuck me over. He knows I’d pay him back double.

“If it’s as interesting as you say, it’s yours. But the other part of our arrangement doesn’t change.” I still need him to clean my money.

“Fine. My lawyer will send over paperwork tomorrow morning.” He leaves his untouched drink on the table and stands, reaching into his pocket. He takes out a flash drive and sets it down between us. “Do not fuck with me,” he says before pushing it toward me and walking away.

21

ALLEGRA

Cassian doesn’t return that night and I only manage to fall asleep when I can’t keep my eyes open any longer. When I wake up, the sun is coming through the windows, and I see the time is eight in the morning.

We’re to bury Michael today at ten. I get up, walk into the bathroom to at least wash my face and brush my teeth. I’m still in my clothes from the night before, but I don’t care. A glance at my reflection shows that I spent most of the night pacing.

I carry my iPad to the kitchen. I’ve read everything I could find on Huntington’s disease. It sounds terrible, but it doesn’t change what he did and I’m still fuming. I look down at my hand, at the ring there. I should have thrown it at him.

No.