Money Devils 1

by Ashley

  “How do we know it’s even real?” Sutton challenged.

  “It’s real,” Luna confirmed. “I saw some of it before I had to get out of there. The file was too massive to download quickly. How did you get access to his laptop for that long?”

  “I put him to sleep and then had my way. Sweet-talked him out of the answers to the security questions. I may not be high tech, but I’m good as fuck at the finesse.”

  “What does this list have to do with bringing you in?” Honor asked.

  “She’ll give us the original files if I put her on,” Sutton answered.

  “That’s a bet!” Luna exclaimed.

  “You don’t decide,” Sutton said. “I’m the oldest. Daddy left me in charge. It’s my job to keep us safe. All of us, including you, Ash. You are not ready. What we do isn’t for you.”

  “I’ll play by your rules. I just want to get back right with my family, Sutty. You know I can’t sit around and not earn my keep. Let me help.”

  Sutton took her time answering. She took her time doing everything. Even with her back against the wall, she never let another motherfucker in the world see her sweat. She sat there, one elbow resting on the table as she rubbed her fingers together in a balled fist. Her tell. She was irritated. She had been doing the same thing since she was a little girl and they knew it was only a matter of time before she exploded.

  “Sutty—” Luna began to speak but Sutton opened her hand, putting it up to silence Luna.

  “Fine, Ash,” she said, conceding. “Make sure you get that hot pocket checked.”

  Sutton then smiled, stubbornly, as the tension melted from the table.

  Honor snickered. “Bitch put that pussy on Lathan’s little nerdy ass and voilà!” They laughed as Luna held up her glass.

  “Daddy’s girls,” Luna said.

  “Daddy’s girls,” they toasted.

  Sutton knew she wouldn’t be able to keep Ashton out of their family’s business. She had a right to be involved. Her last name alone entitled her to a piece of the pie. Sutton didn’t worry about any of her sisters the way she worried about Ashton. She was the baby. They were years apart in age. Ashton was almost like her child. Seeing her baby sister sent away to prison was what made Sutton incorporate their hustle. The LaCroix of the past had held court in the streets, starting with her uncle Matee and her father, Milo. Their family’s name had been strong in every major city in the South, but war had brought them to their knees. With a dead uncle and a father in prison, Sutton couldn’t let her sisters follow the same path. Thus, the family enterprise was born. They used their street instincts and focused on the corporate dollar. They were sharks at every table where they sat, and their beautiful faces only helped them lure in prey. Sutton told herself she would keep a close eye on Ashton and an even tighter rein on her. It was the only way to make sure everyone stayed safe.

  The waitstaff arrived with four platters of food. It was more than they could ever eat. They had a tradition of ordering one of everything on the menu. They shared the food family-style as the music from the DJ relaxed them. The sisters were always the center of attention and as they turned their table into a party, their energy infected the room. It was like old times. Even after years of separation, the bond and love Sutton had for her sisters hadn’t waned. She would go to war for them on any given day. She feared the day she would have to.

  * * *

  “Ms. LaCroix, I have Lathan Naples here for you.”

  Sutton’s pen stopped and she looked up from the third-quarter financial report. “Put him in conference room B and buzz me again in twenty minutes,” Sutton said.

  It was strategy. The person made to wait always psychologically conceded. Anything past five minutes established a hierarchy. Sutton wanted it known who was in charge when she entered the room.

  She spun in her executive leather chair, the back of it so high that it hid her from anyone entering the room. Downtown Houston was at her feet as she peered out of her floor-to-ceiling windows. Her office sat on the thirtieth floor. She had worked hard to get here. She had spent her twenties being ride or die for drug dealers while she finished her doctorate in business. In her thirties, she had turned on those same cheating-ass niggas and hit licks with her father. From bank jobs to stash houses to art galleries, any job they took on was executed to perfection. She built the LaCroix Group from the ground up, starting with rappers and socialites, hoping one day they could clean all their dirty money through a legit company. Then Ashton and their father were arrested. Their convictions made Sutton go harder, pulling her remaining sisters all the way into the real world and leaving the streets behind. At thirty-nine years old, she was at the top of her game. Forbes and Black Enterprise recognized her as the one to watch. She had never felt more accomplished. The only thing missing in her life was someone to share it with. She had always lived her life by rules. She had deemed men to be distractions. One bad heartbreak at eighteen years old had turned her off the idea of settling down. Dick and disloyalty, that was what she believed a man would bring, and they weren’t worth her slowing down the pace of her success. Her business model was to never stay in one place too long, to always be able to leave anyone behind. Every three years, she and her sisters opened a new office in a new city to avoid extortion charges. Love didn’t fit into that plan. A kid for damn sure didn’t fit. The rules were in place for a reason, but as her fortieth birthday neared, she could suddenly hear her biological clock ticking. She couldn’t help but wonder if she had made the right decisions. Being raised by her father had taught her resilience, making her strong, but she wondered if her lack of a mother had made her too strong. She lacked balance. The empathetic bone that women drew emotion from was absent in Sutton. Things the average woman dreamed about hadn’t crossed her mind her entire life until now. She stood there contemplating her past until her assistant let her know her time was up. She grabbed the manila folder off her desk and strutted out of her office and down the hall. She passed Luna’s office, stopping briefly to speak.

  “You need backup in there?” Luna asked.

  “No, I’ve got it. Get ready to blow a bag. You call our girl at Saks?”

  Luna smiled. “She has the entire winter collection put up for us,” Luna answered.

  “And the SEP transfers are scheduled?” Sutton was the type to check then double-check to make sure no one missed a beat.

  “Yes, ma’am. Four transfers into retirement investment accounts are scheduled to go out at 9:00 A.M., right after Lathan Naples wires the money,” Luna stated.

  “And Daddy’s commissary?” Sutton asked.

  “Taken care of.”

  Sutton smiled. “Let me go collect the bag, then.”

  She entered the conference room and walked around the long executive table. “Mr. Naples, so sorry to keep you waiting. I don’t want you to think I don’t value your time.”

  “I’m a very patient man, no worries,” Lathan answered.

  He was smug. Sutton liked the arrogant ones, the successful ones, the ones who had elevated so high up on the food chain that they never saw her coming. This would be fun.

  She sat and crossed her legs, gripping the arms of the swivel chair. “I’d like to represent your company. I’m sure you did your research on the LaCroix Group. We offer a range of services that could be beneficial to you.”

  “I have done some research. Your accomplishments are well noted but I have people in position in-house who are on salary to provide me with the same services you offer.”

  “Those people aren’t comparable to what I offer,” Sutton answered.

  “My CFO is a graduate of Stanford Business School. My head of publicity graduated summa cum laude from Howard. They’re diverse, bright, and the best,” Lathan bragged. “It’s why I hired them.”

  Sutton scoffed and folded her hands in her lap. “Lathan, I’m going to keep this brief. You have a brilliant mind. Your app is genius. It’s the new Facebook, but you have a PR problem,” she answe
red.

  “I have no such thing,” Lathan countered.

  “Are you sure?” Sutton asked. She stood and walked to the window that faced the rest of the office. She pulled the string that closed the blinds and then walked back to her seat, picking up the remote control in the middle of the table. She pointed it at the 80-inch screen at the head of the table.

  PLAY.

  “Harlan Imes, Vincent St. James, Oscar Dockbright, Merlin Rockefeller, Dalton Hilton,” she said, reading from a list of names, his list of names. “Shall I continue?”

  Lathan was visibly unnerved.

  “I don’t know the significance of those names,” he said, trying to play it cool. “But if you’re done wasting my time…” He stood and Sutton did as well, putting both hands on the table as she leaned forward.

  “Sit down, Lathan,” she said. “I have all twelve hundred thirty names of elite gentlemen around the country who belong to your secret group on Connexxxion. A group that traffics underage boys and girls for sexual enjoyment.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. My app is a social media platform. I’m not responsible for the groups formed within its constructs.”

  Sutton sighed and pressed another button. The images on the screen caused his eyes to bulge. “She can’t be a day over thirteen years old.”

  She enjoyed his panic. The terror that flashed in his eyes equated to dollar signs for her.

  “Th-this is extortion,” Lathan stammered.

  “This is business,” Sutton stated. “Now take a seat.” They both lowered into their chairs. “Right now, I’m the only person who has seen this. Well, and that pretty little piece of pussy you let into your hotel room last night,” Sutton said.

  She saw the regret streak through him.

  “Like I said, you’re in need of new PR,” she said. “You’re not here to determine if you’re going to hire the LaCroix Group. You’re here to discuss how much you’re going to pay for our services. We were hired the moment we got our hands on this list.”

  “How much do you want?” Lathan asked.

  “A twenty-million-dollar deposit and a one percent stake in the app,” Sutton said. Most would have gotten greedy and asked for more, but Sutton understood the valuation of Lathan’s company would only continue to grow and that one percent was worth more than any cash payoff.

  “That’s absurd!” Lathan protested, swiping his hand over his head.

  “Look at it like this. It’s twenty million or twenty years in a federal penitentiary and your face plastered all over the news. I’m sure your buddies on this list would hate to be exposed. There are some powerful names here. I’m almost certain they would see you as a loose end should you be put on trial for this…”

  “I can explain. This isn’t what it looks like,” Lathan hissed.

  “Less explanation, more cooperation, Mr. Naples,” Sutton said, flipping over the manila folder and removing a piece of paper. She slid it across the table. “If you’ll sign the agreement and get your superb team on the phone to wire over my money, we can conclude this meeting. I’ll have my attorney fax over a nondisclosure so you feel confident that your little secret is safe with me.”

  “What about the girl from last night? She knows. How can you guarantee that she won’t expose the information?” Lathan asked.

  “Because she is a partner in this firm.”

  Lathan turned toward the door as Ashton walked in. When he realized he had been set up, his eyes pricked with tears.

  “I believe you’re well acquainted with my sister, Ashton LaCroix,” Sutton introduced.

  “You told me your name was Tracy,” Lathan said.

  “And you told me you were a good guy. Turns out you’re an asshole pedophile who deserves a bullet between the eyes. You’re lucky that’s not the route I decided to take. Pay up.”

  Lathan signed the document, writing so hard he tore through the paper.

  “Now make the call,” Sutton said, nodding to the phone in the middle of the conference table.

  Within twenty minutes, the transfer was in. As Lathan exited the room, Sutton stopped him. “Oh, and Mr. Naples?”

  He turned to her.

  “Shut down the group immediately,” Sutton ordered. He pushed out of the door, enraged.

  “Redact Lathan’s name from the list and send it to the Federal Bureau of Investigation,” Sutton said to Ashton.

  “But he just paid for our secrecy,” Ashton said, shocked.

  “He did, the rest of them didn’t,” Sutton answered. “They’re fucking disgusting. Send it immediately and then meet me in your new office. We’ve got some decorating to do.” Sutton’s high heels clicked against the floor as she made her exit. “Welcome to the LaCroix Group, baby sis.”

  CHAPTER 4

  It was midday and the sun beamed down on the surface of the oil rig, which was owned and controlled by Sinclair Enterprises. It sat in the middle of the ocean and the beautiful blue water just below them was a sight to see. The state-of-the-art rig stretched just over four hundred feet, about the size of two football fields. Six people had just gotten out of a helicopter and walked onto the platform. They all were wearing professional attire and had clipboards in hand, all except the two men who led the bunch. All wore yellow hard hats and they followed the gentlemen as they explained the sophisticated logistics of their operation. The two men out front were father-and-son duo West and August Sinclair Sr. One wouldn’t guess them to be father and son because of the shades of their skin; however, blood wouldn’t have made them any closer. West Sinclair was a thirty-something-year-old black man, and his father, August Sinclair Sr., who everyone simply called “Senior,” was a tall, slim Caucasian man with long legs and a diamond-encrusted belt buckle that glistened in the light. His full beard was snow white and his teeth matched the shade. His eyes were deep-sea blue and his voice was deep, textured, and even. West and Senior led the way, taking their time while giving the group a mandatory tour. Both West and Senior wore snakeskin cowboy boots with spurs, a Texas staple that symbolized wealth. They both wore big straw hats as well, rounding out their cowboy look.

  As they moved about the rig, the group of people held clipboards while making observations and jotting down notes. West wore Wrangler jeans with a dress shirt; his sleeves were rolled up as he described the daily routine of their workers. Senior was letting his adopted son lead the conversation. West expertly broke down the logistics of the company’s operation, making sure he covered every possible regulation and assuring them their rig was run with care and up to code.

  “We run maintenance on all of our machinery once a week to ensure safety,” West said as he tipped his hard hat to a maintenance worker who was on a ladder tending to a lift.

  “That’s right. Here at Sinclair, we make sure employee safety is our top priority,” Senior added as he stopped and turned to face the group of inspectors that trailed him. Just as West was about to follow up about their new lighting systems, the sound of loud music sounded. Also, the roaring of an oncoming speedboat engine filled the air. All eyes went toward the water as the shiny, sleek watercraft sliced through the water, causing a steady splash. The logo SE was on the side of the speedboat, making it crystal clear who the boat belonged to. Senior’s biological son, August, drove the boat. He was shirtless, belligerent, and loud, splashing a big wave of ocean water onto the platform as he whipped next to it recklessly. He almost crashed the boat into the rig but missed it by only inches.

  The speakers blared Pop Smoke and a half dozen girls danced and twerked their asses to the beat. Another girl held a bottle of champagne to August’s mouth and poured it down his throat as he gripped the steering wheel. Instantly the inspectors all looked at each other, growing confused. The expression on Senior’s face told a thousand words. His naturally pale face turned plum red and his insides boiled at the sight of his drunken son. He was instantly embarrassed and ashamed. West noticed his father’s rage, although he remained expressionless. He knew
him well enough to know that his fire was going on his insides and quickly moved to try to rectify and calm the situation. He leaned into his father and put his lips near Senior’s right ear.

  “I got it, Pops.” West patted him on the back.

  Senior clenched his jaw tightly and shot a look to his son. He wanted to say something to him, but he understood it wasn’t the right time. He just plastered a fake smile on his face and looked at the inspectors.

  “Let me direct you guys over here to the new drills we had installed,” Senior said as he pointed toward the southern part of the rig, which was opposite of where August was. West gave the group a huge smile and spoke.

  “Pardon me for a sec.” He removed his cowboy hat and placed it on his chest. As he watched the crowd move away, West’s smile slowly became a frown. He spun on the spurs of his heels and beelined directly to August, who was drinking champagne as he looked down at the young, sexy, ebony girl twerking on him. He watched her ass wobble on his pelvis area. Her big cheeks shook, waves traveling through her ass like a tsunami.

  “Aye! Aye! Aye!” the group yelled in unison as they cheered the girl on. West walked briskly over to the edge of the dock and looked over his shoulder to the inspectors to make sure they were out of earshot.

  “What the fuck are you doing, bro?” West said under his breath and harshly as his face frowned in displeasure.

  “Bro! What’s good?” he asked as he briefly took his eyes off the fat ass in front of him.

  “Why in the fuck would you pull up to the rig like this?” West hopped onto the boat and stepped in August’s face. The girls immediately stopped dancing. He then reached past August to push the boat speaker’s off button, causing the music to die.

  “Chill the fuck out, bro. I just needed some gas and decided to pull up,” August said with a dumb-looking smile across his mug. West shook his head in disappointment as he realized August was wasted.

  “You have to move smarter. This ain’t it, kid,” West said as he shook his head and stepped off the boat, back onto the rig.