Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“Governor,” I greet him. Richard is in his early forties. He’s the public face of the family. He currently holds the governor’s seat his father vacated just one year ago. I notice he doesn’t extend a hand to shake, but glances at Jet before turning back to me, eyebrows raised.
“You know my stepbrother, Jethro Blackstone.”
“Yes, I know the family. I’ve met your brother, Severin.”
“Lucky you,” Jet says, unimpressed.
The governor clears his throat. “Sit down. Have a drink.”
“This isn’t a social call,” I tell him. I remain standing.
Jet crosses to one of two desks set at either end of the room. He openly studies the file on it. The governor follows Jet, closes the folder and slips it into a drawer before returning to take a seat on the armchair closest to the fire. “What can I do for you?”
“Does a governor normally need soldiers armed for war at their residence?” Jet asks.
Moore looks annoyed, but manages to keep that smile on his face. “You never know when the riffraff will pay a visit.”
“Will your father be joining us?” I ask, understanding his meaning exactly.
“My father isn’t in town. He’s gone to the house in Florida. Usual for him this time of year. Old bones and all.”
“Then I’ll get to it. The Lombardi children. Where are they?”
“Lombardi children?” he asks, eyebrows raised as if he’s never heard of them.
“Amal and Daniel Lombardi.”
“Yes, of course. I wouldn’t refer to Amal as a child, though. Certainly.” I see Jet’s hand fist. So does Moore. “You came all the way here to ask me about Malek Lombardi’s children?” he continues, eyebrows high.
“I did. Where are they?”
“How should I know? And why would I care?”
“You’ll care because I’m asking you. I’ve been told they paid a visit, which I’d say is odd. I don’t suppose Malek Lombardi is here lurking in some closet or other.”
“No, I haven’t seen Malek in at least a week. But his children? Hmm. Strange,” he says, considering. “Now that I’m thinking about it, they were here. While I was out. My sister mentioned it. Slipped my mind.”
“Did it? That your sister in the other room?”
“It is.” He sips his whiskey. I want to slap the glass out of his hand. He thinks he’s being clever. If he’s made an alliance with Malek Lombardi, he’ll learn soon enough it’s a mistake.
“And what did she mention exactly,” I ask, playing along.
“They were here briefly. Malek sent Amal and she brought the boy with her. He wanted her to pick up some papers I had for him. I could have couriered them over—”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“So you didn’t see them?” Jet asks.
“I was out,” he says to him. “They were only here briefly. And if I had seen them, what business would it be of yours?” he asks me.
“Well, I’ve made it my business since Malek Lombardi has made it his to take what belongs to me.”
“And what is that exactly?”
“Allegra Moretti.” I see a tick in his jaw and study him, cocking my head. I realize something. “Don’t tell me you’re still sore I voided the contract the Morettis had with regards to Allegra and you?”
His gaze darkens, moving from me to Jet and back. “She belongs to the Moretti family. I was under the impression she was being held as collateral until such a time that Michael Moretti would repay his debt to you. I don’t like to involve myself in this sort of business, but sometimes it’s unavoidable, isn’t it? As long as you keep that business off my streets, though, I don’t care what you people do quite frankly.”
“No? Hm. You sure think you know a lot about my business.”
“It’s my business to know about the dealings of criminals within my state.”
I snort. “And what would you consider your relationship with a known crime family? I hear you and Alaric went way back.”
He clears his throat. “You heard wrong. That was my father, and his choices are not mine.”
“Did your father choose to negotiate a contract for Allegra Moretti’s hand in marriage to you?” There’s that tick again. He opens his mouth, but I cut him off. “Actually, I don’t care. Moot point anyway. Did you know Michael Moretti is dead?”
I know from the look on his face that he did not know until just now. “Dead?”
“Killed, to be precise. Bullet to the head. Left on the side of the road like roadkill.”
His face pales as he takes us in properly. When his gaze moves to the guard at the door, I block his view.
“Don’t worry, Governor. It wasn’t us. Now I’ll ask once and only once because I don’t think you have the stomach for violence, but you do have deep pockets. Did you have anything to do with the influx of cash Michael Moretti received in order to repay his debt to me?”