Page 37 of Sins of a King
“Quickest staff meeting ever,” Renee said as she headed back to the dressing room with Alia.
“Lacey, can I talk to you a second?” I asked, getting up out of my chair.
“Sure,” she said.
I gestured to the corner of the club where we could have a modicum of privacy. “What happened to him? The guy on drugs?”
Lacey paused before saying, “You didn’t ask Flynn?”
I shook my head.
“He died. Seizure.”
“Oh.” I frowned. “How is that not public knowledge? Wasn’t there an autopsy? Surely—”
“You should know by now that Flynn has the resources to keep things quiet.”
“Right,” I said, remembering that Flynn had mentioned a man named Jordan who cleaned up messes. “Did he—say anything? Before he died?”
“You mean, did he tell anyone who gave him the drugs?” She shook her head. “No. He didn’t say anything.”
“Okay.”
“If anyone asks you what happened that night, and people will because they saw you follow Flynn into the club office, you have to tell them the guy is fine.”
“I have to lie,” I said flatly. “What else is new?”
Chapter 11
On my next weekday off, I called to make an appointment with Jack Rhodes. His secretary claimed he didn’t have the time to see me last minute. I hung up in annoyance. Jack called me back within the hour to tell me he’d rearranged his schedule and to come by.
Ash’s older brother always had a soft, fond spot for me and treated me with the same casual affection he always showed Ash. Sometimes it made me lament the fact that my own brother was cold and resentful. Other times, I felt incredibly lucky that I had someone like Jack to count on.
I dressed in a black pencil skirt, crisp white shirt, and kitten heels. I left my hair loose and put in my contacts instead of wearing glasses. I was a mix of my old and new self and it felt good. Strange, but good.
At two in the afternoon, I walked into Miller, Banks, and Rhodes and checked in with Jack’s middle-aged, beige-wearing secretary. In a perfectly tailored black power suit and tie, Jack came out of his office, a big grin on his affable face.
“Barrett,” he greeted me affectionately, wrapping me in a sincere hug.
I pulled back and frowned at him.
“What?” he demanded.
“You didn’t call me Imp. I find that odd.”
“You asked me not to call you that the last time I saw you.” Jack ushered me into his office, gesturing to the chair across from his large walnut desk.
“Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Water?”
“No, thanks.”
“So,” he said, taking a seat in his office chair. “What brings you to my humble office?”
As a name partner in a prestigious Manhattan firm, there was nothing humble about his office, which had a beautiful view of the city. Not to mention the twenty-five grands’ worth of furniture. He was a Rhodes, through and through. He had expensive taste—that was for sure.
“Ah, I don’t know where to begin,” I said truthfully. “Andrew got himself into some trouble in one of Flynn’s establishments.”
“Establishments?”
