Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“I’m sorry, sir,” the bartender says solicitously, “but we only have our Copper Still Reserve, Golden Rye Legacy and Rebel’s Toast for tasting tonight.”
It’s the blond thug, Kravitz, who came to my house yesterday but I don’t see his cohort around. Frankly, I’d put them out of my mind, thinking the request brazen but lacking validity. I have more important things to worry about but the fact the big man is sitting two stools down at an invitation-only gala has me reconsidering. This is no coincidence. He’s clearly got connections.
Turning to face me, Kravitz bestows a smile before twisting back to the bartender. “I’ll try the Rebel’s Toast.”
I’m silent as a small tasting cup is prepared, my eyes never leaving the guy. He watches the bourbon being poured and when it’s offered to him, he holds up the clear plastic cup that holds less than half an ounce. He sniffs it almost delicately, then tilts it back. It’s a bourbon drinker I’m watching as he holds the liquid in his mouth to savor, eyes closing slightly before swallowing.
The man hums in approval, looks to me and says, “That’s very good. Kudos.” He then slides his gaze to the bartender. “I’ll take a double.”
“No, he won’t.” The steely edge to my voice has the bartender’s head whipping my way before he steps backward as a silent indication he’s not going to serve this man per my command.
Kravitz inclines his head as I rise from my stool, looking neither flustered nor affronted. I leave the rest of my drink untouched and walk away from the Mardraggon booth, knowing damn well the man will follow me. He’s not here for the 1921 Shadow Reserve, the Rebel’s Toast or anything other than a second attempt to try to intimidate me.
I move through the nearly empty exhibit hall, keeping my eyes averted from the handful of people taking advantage of the lack of lines at the open bourbon booths. I walk right out the door, hang a left and move into the shadows because no one needs to witness this conversation.
The evening is cool but I feel flushed, and not in a good way.
Not in the way I felt ten minutes ago kissing Kat.
I hear the scrape of shoes and when I turn to face Kravitz, he’s lighting a cigarette. Blowing out a plume of smoke my way, his eyes pin on me. Luckily, the wind catches the foul odor and it drifts away before I have to smell it.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
The man tucks one hand in his pocket and shrugs. “Enjoying the festivities. Interesting charity gala.”
Not a direct answer to my question and I learned long ago not to waste my time on silly, petty games. I start to move past the man to head back into the building. “I’ve got more important things—”
“I’m here to provide incentive for you to get that case of bourbon for us.”
I halt, turn to face the man. He’s not in a rush and takes another drag off his cigarette, smoke pouring out of his mouth as he says, “I paid a visit to your father today.”
My body tenses but past that tiny bit of wariness, I can’t figure out how that makes me feel. There’s an implied threat but I’m not sure I really care. Every day that passes, it’s not antipathy I feel for my father but raw anger brewing hotter because of the things he’s done. As a result, I can’t say that I have a single concern for his safety, health or welfare. “And?” I drawl flatly.
The blond man stares at me a long moment before saying, “It was impressed upon him the need to turn over that case of bourbon.”
Nothing on my face gives away alarm because it’s not alarm I’m feeling. More curiosity. “And exactly how did you do that?”
He chuckles. “Oh, I’m sure you can figure it out. Your dad wasn’t moved by our request though.”
“That’s because he doesn’t have the authority.”
Kravitz nods, taking another drag from his cigarette. “Yes, Mr. Rafferty said as much, but we had to be sure. He knows you’re the one who turned your dad into the police as well as orchestrated his removal as chairman of the board. It’s also clear you don’t care if we hurt him.”
My smile is mirthless. “I’m glad you understand. I don’t give a shit what you do to my father.”
“What about your mother, though?” The man’s lips peel back in a vicious smile.
A pit forms in my stomach because while I don’t care what happens to my dad, I obviously don’t want my mother hurt.
I can’t let them know that though. They can never know she would potentially be a weakness. “My mother has chosen to side with my father. I have broken all ties with both of them, so if you’re trying to get to me through them, it’s a waste of your time.”