Page 41 of Saving the Last Heir
“You still aren’t hearing me,” I snapped. “You’re offering me half of what my place is worth. Hell, if you sold all my stuff and the real estate, you’d get more than you’re trying to pawn off on me, and that doesn’t take into account the revenue you’d add. Plus, holy shit,you’re really trying to say ten percent off a radio install for a bunch of guys getting laid off is somehow sweetening the pot? I could get a better offer from EbenezerfuckingScrooge. Come on, Dusty,” I added, crossing my arms and tapping my foot. “Do better. Open up those purse strings a bit.”
Dusty wasn’t flustered at all. It made me think he was one of those types wholovedhaggling and bargaining. He probably got a hard-on when he strolled down the stalls of a flea market, and orgasmed when he saved five dollars on a used leather jacket.
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and pulled out his phone. Frowning, I craned my neck to see what he was doing. From my limited angle, it appeared he had his calculator app out. While he tapped away, I spared a glance at the shop.
The light inside was low and sparse, most likely nothing but exit and security lighting. I didn’t see any flash of movement outside, no streaking, lizard-like beast rising into the air on wings. No shadowy form of a man hustling through the shadows. Nothing. The only thing Ididsee was the steady sweeping motion of a flashlight. An icicle of terror shot through me.
Jackson would never have been sloppy or careless enough to use a flashlight for this. There was someone else inside. Security? Staff? Cleaning crew? My insides twisted. So far no alarm had been raised.
“Shy? Are you listening?” Dusty said.
Flinching, I tore my gaze from the shop, doing my best to put it out of my mind. There was nothing I could do about it. Jackson would simply have to figure it out. Hopefully, he had the skills to evade whoever the hell was in there.
“Huh?” I said. “Sorry?”
Dusty frowned at me, then glanced over his shoulder at the shop. A new surge of fear rocked me. I needed to keep him outside. Jackson might have a slim shot of evading one person in that shop, but two? No chance.
“I…uh…I saw some lights in there. Is there anyone inside?” I asked, hoping I sounded confused rather than terrified.
“Oh, that’s just Davey. My overnight security guy. Lives two blocks down. Does security work at a bank, but picks up extra work for me when we’ve got a lot of cars at once. I’ve got several nice rides in there right now, and I want them to stay there, you know?”
I let out a strained laugh. “Maybe, uh, maybe I should think about doing the same thing.”
Again, that condescending smile appeared. “Shy, you and I both know you don’t have the money for that. Speaking of.” He held up his phone. “Did some calculations.”
Regaining my composure, I nodded. “And what did you come up with?”
“I can add another hundred thousand,” he said. “That’s the best I can do.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Now, if youdidofficially agree to a date with me?” He shrugged, bobbing his head back and forth. “MaybeI could slide another hundred in there. All depends on how things go.”
The unspoken part of that offer was easy to glean. Would I put out or not? The flirting was completely inappropriate and annoying, but I was a big girl and could tolerate this bullshit long enough to finish this mission. That being said, it was now growing increasingly uncomfortable and disgusting.
“How things go?” I wrinkled my nose in disgust. “And what thefuckdoes that mean, Dusty?” I already knew what it meant, but I had to keep him occupied.
He jammed his phone into his pocket. “I think you know what it means, Shy. We’re trying to come to an understanding here. We both need something. You need money andbad. I need to expand my operations with the least investment possible. You’ve only got so much to sweeten the pot with.” He gave me a sly grin. “Oneof the things you can sweeten it with is pretty goddamn sweet if you ask me.”
His eyes traveled up and down my body with lascivious desire. My gorge rose at the back of my throat. The mere thought of this man rubbing his greasy hands on my body repulsed me. Just imagining his cock anywhere nearme, much less inside me, nearly made me vomit on his feet.
While I fought to retain control of my stomach contents, my phone vibrated. Relief flooded through me as I read the text.
Jackson:It’s done. I’m out.
Jackson:Are you okay?
I turned on my heel. “All right. We’re done here.”
“What?” Dusty barked. “Where are you going?”
“Gotta go. No deal, I guess.”
When he spoke next, there was a darker, angrier tone to his voice than I’d ever heard before.
“Now wait one goddamn second.” He moved around me and stepped in front of me. “You aren’t going anywhere. We haven’t finished our business.”
“Dusty, you’re a cheapskate. I should have known better than to come here. We’re done. Can you get out of the way?”
He grabbed my arm, fingers digging into my bicep. I hissed in pain and tried to yank it away, but he tightened his grip and pressed hard on the nerve beneath. Electric jolts of pain shot down to my fingers.
“I don’t think so,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “Did you come all this way to fuck with my head, huh? Shaking that tight little ass at me, trying to get me all riled up. You know most guys don’t like ladies with small tits and abs, right? Big fucking tree trunk legs? Biceps like a guy? Nah, most guys want soft and sexy. You should be happy I’m showing any interest at all.”
