Page 13 of Twisted Lies 3
Bigsby’s facial muscles twitched before he shook his head in dismay. “Damn, the rumors are true. You really like to get straight down to business.”
“Because everyone knows it’s all I give a shit about.”
“Well, that’s great.” Bigsby sat forward. “Because I have a big moneymaking venture you’ll love.”
I gave a halfhearted shrug. “There’s nothing you can offer me that I don’t already have, Bigsby.”
Bigsby crossed and uncrossed his leg. “How about the Port District?”
“I’m listening,” I replied in a sharp tone.
His jaw tightened. “As you know, I’ll be New York City’s next mayor.”
“That statement is highly debatable, but continue,” I muttered.
“When I’m mayor”—anger flashed across Bigsby’s eyes—“I will own the city, including the port.”
Shit just got very interesting. The Port District of New York and New Jersey encompassed part of seventeen counties in the region.
“Keep going,” I ordered tonelessly.
Bigsby’s posture stiffened. “I need your overseas connections for a little matter on my end.” He cleared his throat loudly. “I understand from my sources that you’re a minor stakeholder in Sin Michaels Corporation.”
I chuckled darkly. Bigsby was fishing for information. He’d have to work fucking harder to get anything from me.
“Minor? I own the business. And her,” I replied calmly. “Cut to the chase, Calhoune. What do you want?”
Bigsby’s body tightened as he ran his hand over his salt-and-pepper hair with agitation. “I’ve also been informed you’re set to manufacture in Thailand, and your first run to the United States will be in weeks.”
“And?” I inclined my head for him to continue.
Bigsby cleared his throat. “I just need a small area within your cargo shipment to put my merchandise. If you agree, I’ll ensure there are no issues at the port when your shipment arrives.”
“I see. So, if I don’t agree, you’ll make it complicated and expensive to get my merchandise into New York?” The final words were furious and guttural.
The chunky gold ruby-and-diamond-encrusted horseshoe ring on Bigsby’s middle finger glinted as he nervously adjusted his cuff. “That could be a real possibility.”
Glancing up from his ring, I asked, “What type of merchandise?”
“Does it matter?” He pressed his lips together.
My nostrils flared. “I’m not going to blindly ship merchandise without knowing exactly what it is, especially if it’s illegal.”
“My informants tell me you don’t have issues with getting your hands dirty.” He cleared his throat and leaned forward in emphasis. “That’s why I’m coming to you with this sensitive matter.”
“Sensitive matter? I guess that’s code for pimping out girls to your rich friends,” I stated matter-of-factly.
Bigsby’s mouth hung open. “How did you—” He sputtered over the words.
I cut him off. “My connections love to talk.” I left out the fact that the majority of my information came from a now-dead Ben Vargos. “Especially when they’re paying a shitload of money to fuck pretty college girls in any way and anywhere they want.” I paused for a moment. “Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? I know you’re running women,” I stated bluntly. “I don’t deal in sex trafficking. So my response to your business offer is fuck no.”
The vein along Bigsby’s jaw pulsed rapidly. “I’ll give you a thirty-percent cut. That’s a deal worth five hundred million dollars.”
“I’m accepting all the risk. I want a fifty-fifty split.” I scrutinized Bigsby, assessing his level of desperation.
He gawked at me, speechless, before breaking eye contact and then glaring at me. “Deal.”
I smirked. He was desperate to accept my throat-cutting deal.
