Page 98 of Graveyards & Greed

The older, well-dressed assistant ushered me into Fennick’s office, and I couldn’t help but compare her to Misty, our ex-stripper receptionist. When Fenn glanced up and saw me, he put his hands behind his head and leaned back in his leather chair.

“What an unpleasant surprise. I didn't expect to see you so soon after the nuptials.”

“Neither did I,” I replied, sitting in one of the high-backed chairs in front of his desk without invitation. “But here we are.”

“Please, have a seat. Make yourself at home, I’m not busy at all.”

Grinning, I settled back. “Before I get to the main reason I’m here, what do you know about Sylvie’s high school boyfriend? His first name was Lander.”

Fenn raised an eyebrow and slowly smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. “He’s doing time in California. He didn’t need much help to ruin his own life.”

“Good. Jeffery Whitlock is the main reason I’m here.” The name hung in the air like a foul smell. “Prison isn’t keeping him contained. The fucker needs to die.”

Fennick brought his hands down. “This day should be declared a national holiday because you and I actually agree on something. What’re you proposing?”

“Sending someone into the prison who can kill the psycho and make it look like an accident. Something like a heart attack or an allergic reaction.”

He picked up a gold filigreed pen and started tapping it carelessly on his desktop. Movement at Fenn’s door caught my eye, and I turned to see Kilian. “What’re you two planning, and how is Sylvie doing?”

Fenn waved his hand. “She’s fine, and we’re brainstorming about how to kill her dad.”

Kilian sighed, then walked in and sat in the other office chair. “I need a vacation.”

Fennick smirked. “You’ve never taken a vacation in your life. I don’t think you’d know what to do with yourself.” He turned to me. “We don’t need to send someone in. We already have enough contacts in the Nevada State Prison. Let’s utilize the existing talent and shop local, so to speak.”

“I’m not sure the term ‘shopping local’ includes hitmen.”

“Sure it does. Have you told her what you’re planning?”

I shook my head. “That’s why I’m here. She’ll be safer once he’s dead, but I don’t know how she’ll feel about her husband killing her father.”

Kilian tilted his head. “I don’t think we can predict how she’s going to react, but it needs to be done.”

“Do either of you have any ideas?”

Kilian pulled his phone out and opened a game app. I glanced over and noticed he was playing Call of Duty. “We can’t make it look like a gruesome accident since Sylvie took Terrance out that way. It might be too suspicious if the drug syndicate ever put the pieces together,” he murmured.

“I fuckingknew it. When I asked her, she gave me that wide-eyed, innocent look as if she was insulted,” I exclaimed.

Fenn grinned. “Yeah, she’s good, isn’t she?”

“It’s one of the many things I love about her, God help me,” I admitted.

Fennick raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you’re not a fancy fuckboy after all. We could make it look like a suicide. Besides overdoses, it’s the next leading cause of deaths in prison.”

I shook my head. “Not an overdose. I want him to fuckingsufferbefore he dies.” Jeffery Whitlock had caused Sylvie years of heartache and pain, and he’d sent a vicious motorcycle gang after her so he could collect on a fucking life insurance policy. The bastard didn’t deserve an easy death.

Fennick leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with the same shrewd calculation I saw in Sylvie sometimes. “Maybe before we help him decide to check out on his own, we dish out a little Karma. We've got a few guys on the inside who can make him suffer for the right price.”

“I’ve already taken care of the ‘suffering’ part,’” Kilian muttered absently. Fenn and I stared at him, but he glanced up and shrugged. “What? Sylvie had a point about Carver. We need to make a statement.”

“How did you make him suffer?” I asked carefully.

“It’s been leaked to the drug syndicate that Whitlock has turned informant.”

Fenn stared at him. “Is that true?”

“No. I set him up.”

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