Page 94 of Steal My Heart
Bennett: About damn time! How the hell are you?
Cornbread: Ready to pull the trigger on our plan.
Bennett: It’s set in motion.
Bennett: Local news is reporting about a shootout. No casualties.
Cornbread: Turn up the heat with the mayor. Use legal channels to our advantage.
Bennett: I’ve been working my magic. Our boy’s getting a nice surprise at the party.
Cornbread: Good. Things on my end have not gone to plan. Will try another angle.
Bennett: The arrest was intentionally botched by Pierre.
Cornbread: Can you flip him?
That’s the final message, being that Bennett’s not alive to respond.
Closing my eyes, I mentally go over every mistake I’ve made leading up to this moment. And just like my list of sins, it’s a long fucking list. But let’s start at the beginning with Bennett. Believing I was protecting myself by firing the old family lawyer when I became boss—afraid he was too sympathetic to my brother—what I did was replace him with my brother’s lackey. I would laugh at the irony if I didn’t want to murder someone.
“You can’t blame yourself; Bennett hid his deception well,” Maks points out.
“When you’re the boss, there’s nobody else to blame.” I fucked up, and only time will tell how much it’s going to cost me. “Has anyone else betrayed me?” I toss the phone on the couch, rubbing my eyes with my palms.
“‘Can you flip him?’ We don’t know the answer to that question about Pierre.”
“It was more a rhetorical question, but yes, I want the detective picked up and his phone searched, just to play it safe. If there’s nothing suspicious, give him a brush with death. A friendly reminder whose side he’s on.”
“And if there is anything suspicious?” Maks presses.
“Give him more than a brush.”
Maks nods, walking out.
I begin the monumental task of wading through my messages and emails. Laurie, unsurprising, has left me a barrage of angry texts and voicemails.
I told you not to embarrass me!
I cannot believe this!
Your little brat of a sister is the icing on the cake!
You can’t tell me you’re not out of jail by now!
If you don’t respond, we’re through!
Thank fuck. Exclamation point.
My phone rings, and I answer, “This is Mr. Calvani.”
“Mr. Calvani, I’m calling on behalf of the Monarch Organization. I wanted to touch base with you, since you seem to have missed my emails. How you don’t have a personal assistant is beyond me.”
“My apologies. I have quite a bit on my plate right now.” The understatement of the century. And while true, I don’t have a personal assistant for my legitimate business dealings, it’s because I don’t trust anyone with unfettered access to myillegitimatebusiness dealings.
“Of course, of course. I just wanted to make sure the little dust-up at the mayor’s party isn’t going to affect your King of Carnival duties come Lundi Gras.”
Christ. With everything going on, I nearly forgot about my appearance scheduled for Monday.
