A Very Daddy Christmas (Lucky Lady Reverse Harems)

Chapter 20

20

Riggs

“ P lay nice,” Sebastian warns me as we casually walk into the Golden Eagle Country Club. “We can’t let them see they’re getting to us.”

“I know. I just really want to wring their necks, though,” I mutter.

“It’ll have to wait until the escrow expires,” Waylan says.

It’s been a while since we set foot in this place, even though we pay exorbitant fees on a yearly basis. We don’t have time to play golf and yuck it up with other rich people in Madison. We’re busy building something incredible, while they’re spending money on luxury simply because they can, simply because they need a place to flaunt their wealth.

Personally, I’ve always found country clubs to be pretentious, useful perhaps when you need to close a more private business transaction, but otherwise, pretentious.

“There they are,” Waylan mutters, spotting our targets once we’re past the reception desk. “Looking pretty cozy.”

“Let’s fix that,” I reply with a smirk.

We make our way into the breakfast room. A café bar sprawls along the western wall, while the opposite side opens onto a generous terrace overlooking the snow-covered golf course. Naturally, with the exception of a few die-hards, nobody golfs during this time of the year. Most of the club’s members come for the drinks, the food, the occasional game of poker, and the privacy they need to be in the company of luxury call girls.

George Hamilton and Orson St. James are seated near the heated terrace, enjoying their coffees and club sandwiches, chuckling and exchanging glances, while one of the waitresses brings a tray of glazed pastries to their table.

They sense our presence as we approach. Both of their shoulders tense up, their postures stiffening. As soon as Orson sees us, the color begins to fade from his freshly shaven jowls. His face is just begging for a good old-fashioned beating.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” Sebastian quips and takes a seat without asking for an invitation. “We need to talk.”

Waylan and I pull a couple of chairs from nearby tables to join them, the three of us wearing flat smiles and cold eyes, reveling in the visible discomfort our sheer presence causes.

“What the hell do you want?” Orson groans. “I didn’t ask you to join us.”

“And I didn’t ask you to send masked assassins to kill us while out snowmobiling on a private getaway, yet here we are,” Sebastian replies.

Orson looks horrified. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, you didn’t know? Did you butt dial the order by accident?”

“I have no idea what you’re referring to, and frankly, I don’t take kindly to slanderous accusations, either.”

Hamilton frowns. “We’ll call security if you don’t leave now.”

“We’re platinum members, asshole.” I can’t help but chuckle as I pour myself a glass of water. There are a couple of spare glasses on the table, and the more I invade their personal space, the more uncomfortable they feel. “I’m fairly sure we pay higher fees than you do. Forget security. You’re going to sit here, and you’re going to listen to what we have to say.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” George replies and tries to get up, but Waylan discreetly grabs him by the wrist and yanks him back down. “Get your hands off me!”

“I haven’t put my hands on you yet,” Waylan hisses with a deadly grin, “but I’d be more than happy to do just that.”

“It’s in your best interest to have this conversation with us, gentlemen,” Sebastian warns. “For the sake of civility. Consider it your last chance at an amicable conclusion before we bring hell to your doorstep.”

Orson sneers and leans back into his chair, trying to adopt a fearless demeanor. It’s a little too late for that, though. I’ve already seen the dread in his eyes. I’m the shark that caught the hint of blood in the water, and I’m gunning for him.

“Alright then. Let’s talk,” he says, a light tremor betraying his voice. “What do you want?”

“Call off your hounds,” Sebastian says.

“What hounds?”

“The ones who tried to kill us this past weekend,” Sebastian replies. “Four of them, former military or guerrilla fighters, but not as good as they might’ve advertised themselves to be.”

“You are sorely mistaken,” Orson says, shaking his head. “If I wanted you dead, I’d be a lot smarter in the way I’d go about it.”

I can’t help but smile. “So what you’re saying is, whoever did it wasn’t concerned about being out in the open?”

“Where did this supposed attack happen?” George asks.

And there it is. That flicker of mad confidence. He knows who did it, even though he acted like he didn’t when he approached us on the street. He’s aware that it happened, and he’s stupid enough to gloat about it, even though he clearly lacks the spine to be the actual author.

I lean forward, my gaze burning into his. “You think you’re pretty clever, George, but you lack foresight. And it will be your undoing. Any dirt you think you may have uncovered is nothing compared to what we’ll bring to the surface if you keep up your campaign against us and the Levine sisters.”

Orson clears his throat. “Gentlemen, I repeat, we had nothing to do with the incident you’re accusing us of. We fight our battles without violence. We use contracts and lawyers.”

“Ah, alright, so neither of you did it, yet you both know what happened,” I conclude. “I’m guessing Denaro told you afterward? If that’s the case, it makes both of you accessories after the fact.”

“No such thing,” Orson insists.

“What does he have on you?” Sebastian asks. “I’m genuinely curious. Do you owe him money? Did he put someone in cement shoes to help you out? What is it?”

“It’s none of your goddamn business!”

Sebastian chuckles softly. “But it is something.”

“Something big enough to have you both beholden to a very dangerous man,” I say. “But trust me, Denaro is nothing compared to the three of us when our lives, and the lives of people we care about, are threatened. You messed with the wrong folks, gentlemen. And you need to make it right.”

George and Orson exchange nervous glances. I can almost hear their hearts beating faster, pounding against their rib cages. I dare hope the right decisions will be made, but I’m soon disappointed. Orson scoffs in pure denial.

“We had nothing to do with whatever happened to you,” he states. “If you pissed the wrong people off, it’s your problem. I warned you, and I warned Cora, as well. What’s happening now is merely a consequence of your foolishness.”

“Are you sure this is how you want to play this game?” Sebastian calmly replies. He’s seething just beneath the surface, but he knows not to give them the satisfaction. He’s in perfect control.

“You chose this path,” Orson says.

I turn my focus on George. “And you, George? Are you content with spreading vicious rumors about Cora? Are you sure this is how you wish to proceed?”

“I’m sorry, but whatever decisions Miss Levine makes have nothing to do with me,” George says, raising his chin in defiance. “God-fearing folks are within their rights to refuse to associate with harlots and—”

“You really need to be careful about what words you choose to use in my presence,” I hiss, inching close enough to make the bastard sweat. “I don’t take kindly to insults,” I add, lowering my voice. “And I will rip you to fucking shreds if you keep attacking people I hold dear. It’s one thing to gossip like a bored housewife, Mr. Hamilton, and it’s a whole other thing to fling shit around like a crazed monkey. Choose your battles and prepare to face the consequences.”

“Are you threatening me?” he gasps, feigning outrage. He’s loud enough for other guests to hear, which draws unwanted attention.

The whole breakfast room comes to a standstill as Sebastian, Waylan, and I are forced to assess our situation once again. I smile and pat George on the shoulder, hard enough to startle him.

“I don’t make threats, Mr. Hamilton. I make promises, and I keep them.”

“We don’t have to sit here and put up with this nonsense,” Orson says and gets up. “Come, George. I’m sure we’ll find the privacy we need in the cigar room without having to file a complaint with the club’s management.”

“Run, little rabbits, run,” Waylan chuckles as we watch the two of them skitter away. “You can’t escape your own fates.”

We’re left at the table, unfinished coffees and sandwiches sitting before us. It feels like a slap in the face. We didn’t get what we came here for, but I wonder if we at least made a dent in their sense of security. They know we know about Denaro. They know we suspect a dirty connection. It’s not enough though.

“Hopefully they’ll get rattled enough to slip and make a mistake,” I tell Sebastian.

“We can’t bank on that,” Waylan says. “It’s far from over.”

“It’ll get worse before it gets better, but what’s most important is keeping Cora and Eva safe,” I reply.

Sebastian shakes his head. “Denaro is at the bottom of this. We can’t let him slip away. I’ve got a feeling he’s got his fingers deep in a few pies. Deep enough to make waves without ever showing his face.”

“He has been pretty private, you’re right about that,” I mutter.

“What do we do when we want the rats out of the house?” Waylan asks a rhetorical question.

You smoke them out. That’s what you do. You give them a reason to emerge from their hiding spots. Therefore, we need to give Denaro a reason to poke his head out. The best way to do that, without stirring the pot with local law enforcement, is to keep resisting whatever Orson and George do going forward.

Cora needs us more than ever. Her future and her happiness, her safety and her well-being, all depend on it.