by Reed, Zelda
“Upset would be an understatement,” he says, grinning despite the redness that climbs up his throat. “Neal Dietrich attempted to publically humiliate me. As if he has the right.”
“I understand but --”
“You don’t understand,” Lee says.
“Okay.”
“Say it,” he says.
“Say what?”
“Say you don’t understand.”
A large lump forms in my throat. “I don’t understand, but there must be a way for us to reconcile for what he’s done.”
Lee lounges back in his chair. A small roll of fat pours over his belt, resembling the stomach of my father. If I were like Alanis but witty, I would point out that the two of them had something in common after all. A joke to break the thick tension in the room. But I’m not that sort of woman. I’m the sort who trembles beneath Lee’s gaze, my hands stuck beneath my thighs as I try to stop them from shaking.
A slow smile spreads across his mouth, his wrists turn upwards on the table, palms to the ceiling. “Show me what you have,” he says, with the familiarity of a man who’s used to being bribed.
From my purse I pull the signed papers, Neal’s neat signature running along the dotted line. A pinch of sickness turns in my stomach as I slide them over to Lee.
I don’t care about his fingers staining the crisp white paper, sifting through the pages as he raises an impressed eyebrow. I care because it digs up a reality I would rather not face. Neal’s lied to me. Again.
“This is a very generous offer,” he says, scanning every line. “And Neal’s ready to part with this? For what?”
My eyebrows furrow. “For his life.”
Lee chuckles. He folds the papers and places them in the inside of his jacket. “Some things aren’t worth giving up. But who am I to refuse such an offer?” A satisfied smile spreads across his mouth. He leans across the table. “What else do you have?”
My eyes flicker towards Alanis, wrapped in her cool disposition.
An amused smirk plays at Lee’s mouth.
“What? You thought this was going to be enough?”
“Of course not,” Alanis says.
Lee’s head whips in her direction. Do I look like I was talking to you?
“Caitlin’s willing to issue a very public apology, on behalf of Neal and her father.”
Lee sits back in his chair. “You can speak for your father,” he says to me, “but you cannot speak for Neal. I know you know where he is.” I open my mouth to lie but Lee holds up his hand. “It would be better for all of us, if you didn’t lie.” He motions to his guard on the right. “I’ll accept your public apology, only if Neal is there to issue one himself.”
“How do I know you aren’t going to kill him the second he steps in the room?” I ask.
Alanis raises her eyebrow. She’s impressed.
“There will be a significant amount of reporters there. As well as the evening news. Even I can’t get away with putting a bullet in someone on live television.” The guards around him laugh. Something tells me, he could get away with it if he tried.
“Fine,” Alanis says.
Lee looks at me.
“That’s fine,” I say.
“But that’s not all,” Lee says, smacking on another smile. “I want twenty-five percent of your father’s – I’m sorry, Neal’s – business. I want to be on the board, at every meeting, in the know whenever they make a big move.”
My eyes flicker towards Alanis. She shrugs.
I’m on my own.
“Okay,” I say.
Lee grins and holds out his hand. “Do we have a deal?”
I shake it. “We have a deal.”
Another chuckle runs through him. “Excellent. Su,” he says, to the man to his right, “give word that the man hunt on Neal Dietrich has now ceased.”
Su nods and heads down the hall.
Lee pushes his chair back and stands. We follow his lead.
Lee’s fixing the buttons of his jacket when the restaurant door swings open. The bell above it rings. We crane our necks to see who it is. Footsteps round the corner and –
“Chris,” Lee says, walking to greet him. “You were almost late.”
Chris’s eyes land on mine. What the fuck are you doing here? “I’m twenty minutes early.”
“What do I always say?” Lee says, patting his arm. “You Americans have the worst sense of time.”
Lee turns to Alanis and me, standing near the booth. “How does Friday afternoon sound?”
My flight leaves at noon.
“Excellent,” Alanis says, holding out her hand, waiting for the return of her gun. The guard hands it over, sans clip.
“Fantastic,” Lee says. “I’ll have my secretary call Martin to set it up.”
Lee heads around the corner, back to the room he came from. He leads Chris with his hand on his arm, tugging him with the familiarity of a man who’s done this before.
Chris doesn’t take his eyes off me until he disappears around the wall, the guards following Lee, except for one.
“You can leave now,” he says, gruffly and in broken English.
Alanis and I say nothing until we’re out of the restaurant and across the street, the guard watching us from the door.
“That son of a bitch,” she says, wedging her car door open.
I climb inside.
Her words cut against her teeth. “That son of a --”
“We should’ve told Chris,” I say.
Her gaze whips in my direction. “Why the fuck would he do that?”
“He’s in there trying to cut a deal for Neal’s life too.”
Alanis laughs. It’s patronizing, the way she stares at me, white teeth glimmering as she shakes her head.
“And here I thought you weren’t an idiot.”
______
We drive down the road before rounding the corner and stopping. From the glove compartment Alanis pulls a thin rectangular device, silver with neon blue lines dancing across the screen. She hooks it up to the radio.
“I had a feeling they were going to keep my clip so I left something for them. Listen,” she says, turning the volume on high.
“So that's it?” Chris says, his voice crackling on the other end. “You get what you want and I walk away with jack shit?”
Lee chuckles. “You would be wise to lower your voice.”
There's a pause.
“I don't understand why you had to stray from the plan,” Chris says.
“I refuse to believe you are that stupid,” Lee says. “But who knows? Maybe you are.”
“I thought you –“
The frequency muddles. Alanis fiddles with the radio, twisting the knob, changing stations.
“Fuck,” she says, slapping the dashboard.
Laughter fizzles out on the radio.
“Fuck you,” Chris says.
The laughter grows.
“Fuck you,” he says again.
All laughter stops.
Alanis drops her hand and I imagine Lee and his men, surrounding Chris with their weapons drawn, his eyes wild with fury and fear.
“It's time for you to leave,” Lee says. “Unless you wish to become a casualty in this senseless war you're attempting to wage.”
Chris says nothing. The door to their room opens.
“And Christopher?” Lee says. “No one’s stopping you from making your own moves, but I am out of the game.”
The pair of us listen to the crackle of the radio, the door slamming behind Chris, the clatter of tea cups and knives and plates.
Alanis turns off the radio and pulls her device from it.
“That son of a bitch,” she says again.
My stomach twists into my throat. “We have to tell Neal,” I say.
Alanis looks at me. “You think?”
Thank You!
Writing The Inheritance (Volume Three) has been such a wild
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Other Works by Zelda Reed
Escape
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
The Kids Who Were
Volume One
Volume Two
About the Author
Zelda Reed has never met a glass of whiskey she didn’t love. A Los Angeles native, she moved to the windy city of Chicago to complete a degree in Fiction Writing before falling head over heels for every romance novel she could find. Writing is her passion and she lives for making her readers happy, using her novels to spread a little more love in the world.