A Very Daddy Christmas (Lucky Lady Reverse Harems)

Chapter 29

29

Riggs

O ur first stop is the Golden Eagle.

Determination makes each of my steps feel heavier than ever as we walk into the main building of the country club. The air feels tight and stiff, the smell of cigars and pricey bourbon tickling my nostrils while we check in with the receptionist. I don’t like the looks she keeps giving us.

“Is there an issue?” I ask, my tone sharp.

She swipes my card and hands it back to me with a dry smile. “No, sir, all good. Enjoy your time here.”

“Where are Mr. Hamilton and Mr. St. James?” I ask.

“The cigar room.”

I give her a slight nod and lead the way.

“You fucked up,” I snap as soon as I see them.

“Gentlemen, be civilized.” Orson tries to get ahead of the ensuing storm, but I beat him to it. In the blink of an eye, Sebastian, Waylan, and I step closer, towering over him. We’re too big and too threatening for him or George to even think about getting up. It gives me a position of dominance, and I intend to make good use of it. “What’s the meaning of this?”

“Orson, do you need me to call security?” another club member asks from two tables away, but Sebastian gives him a flick of the wrist.

“Mind your fucking business. We’re good here. Aren’t we, Orson?”

“We’re good,” Orson manages with a weak smile. “Just a chat. Don’t worry.”

“Oh, I’d be worried if I were you,” Waylan hisses. “Where is she?”

For a moment, he and George seem genuinely confused, their gazes bouncing between us.

“What are you talking about?” George asks, slightly short of breath. His expression shifts, ever so slightly, and I’m almost certain he just figured something out. Something that troubles and chills him to the bone because he’s fidgeting in his otherwise comfortable seat.

“Cora Levine is missing, and I know you had something to do with it,” Waylan says. “It’s written all over your face.”

Orson sits up straight, his brow furrowed. But it’s not outrage I see in his eyes. It’s fear and concern. “I’m not sure I understand. I got what I wanted from the Levine sisters—”

“You’re not getting jack shit until it’s settled in a court of law. Rest assured their lawyers will be filing an appeal against your raggedy-ass morality clause,” I cut him off.

“You mean your lawyers?” Orson scoffs.

I take a small step forward. Enough to make him shrink in his seat. There are too many eyes for me to do much more. “Whatever deal you’ve got going with George or with Denaro, believe me, none of it matters if anything happens to Cora.”

“Listen to me very carefully,” Orson insists. “I saw the Levine sisters earlier this morning, and I left them there, at the bakery. I have no reason to cause either of them any harm because I already got what I wanted. I’m good.”

“I don’t believe that,” Sebastian interjects. “You’re nervous. You’re sweating. There’s a tremor of uncertainty in your voice.” He points a finger at George. “And your lackey here is about to have a stroke. Anything you want to share with the class, Mr. Hamilton?”

“I have no idea what you’re referring to,” George instantly retorts.

“Wrong answer,” Sebastian hisses. “Where’s Cora?”

“I swear to you,” Orson reiterates. “We don’t know. Whatever she’s doing, wherever she might’ve gone, I had nothing to do with it. I’ve been here since this morning. I came straight over from the bakery. The staff can confirm.”

I give Sebastian a wondering look. Waylan isn’t pleased with this development, either.

“What’s your deal with the bakery building, anyway?” I ask them. “You never told us.”

“Nor will I tell you because it’s none of your goddamn business,” Orson snaps.

“Is Denaro squeezing you? Do you owe him something and the bakery’s the quickest to sell? Make it make sense for me,” I say.

“You’re harassing us,” George says, and finally gathers the courage to get up. He’s too close to my face for his own comfort, but he manages to hold his own and step aside. Orson is quick to join him, and I can’t help but chuckle at their obvious discomfort as they quickly begin to walk away.

“Where are you two going? We’re not done with you yet.”

“Call the sheriff if you’re worried about your girlfriend,” Orson says from the open doorway, loud enough for the other patrons to hear him.

“They think they’re better than us,” Waylan mutters. “Hypocrites.”

“Fellas,” Sherry’s voice comes from a service door to our left.

“Sherry?” I mumble, glancing her way.

She motions for us to follow her, then vanishes behind the door. Two minutes later, we’re on a secluded patio on the east side of the main building.

Sherry keeps looking around, nervous and worried that others might see us.

“Sherry, what’s going on?” I ask.

“I overheard you in the cigar room, with Mr. St. James and Mr. Hamilton,” she says, steam rolling from her lips in the chilly air. “You said Cora’s missing?”

“Yeah. Do you know anything about that?”

She shakes her head. “No, sir. You’d be my first call if I did. But you mentioned something about that Chicago mobster.” The last word is lilted up in a question.

“Sherry, if you’ve got something to tell us, anything that might help us shed some light on this whole situation, now’s your chance,” Sebastian exhales sharply.

“Yeah, I think I can help you make the right connections, for sure,” Sherry concedes. “But I need to apologize to you, first.”

I give her a confused look. “What for? If it’s about the babysitting gig, we told you we completely understood your situation—”

“No, it’s… I’ve been holding this stuff in for a while. And it’s not right to keep it from you any longer, especially if Miss Levine is in some kind of trouble,” Sherry replies, then takes a deep breath. “You remember the last time you approached me about information regarding Mr. St. James and Mr. Hamilton?”

“We most certainly do,” Sebastian replies, his gaze fixed on her.

“I hear a lot in this place. I’m like a fly on the wall. They don’t even notice me,” she continues. “I’m also bound by non-disclosure agreements and stuff, but like I said, if Miss Levine’s safety is in peril, I have to say something.”

“We’re all ears,” I say.

“You were right about that Denaro guy. He’s definitely Chicago mafia. He’s had a few meetings up here with visitors from the Windy City,” Sherry says. “People like him. I mean, mobsters. Cool suits, cold eyes, killer faces… just like you see in the movies.”

Waylan steps closer. “You saw Denaro here? That’s rare. The guy barely shows his face anywhere.”

“He’s not a club member,” Sherry says. “He came here as a guest of Mr. St. James every time. And Mr. St. James sat with him through some of the meetings. For others, however, he grabbed a seat by the bar, and I served him his drinks. I’ve overheard a lot from Mr. St. James and Mr. Hamilton during their private visits, as well.”

Sherry goes on to tell us about every single juicy detail she picked up, and it’s a deluge of compromising information. The more we learn, the more obvious it becomes that Orson and George are two of the most depraved motherfuckers in the entire state of Colorado. My stomach churns as I realize how much bullshit they’ve been feeding the people of this town.

“To be fair, a lot of it is hearsay,” Sherry adds, taking a deep breath. “Mr. St. James bragging about his last affair. Mr. Hamilton worried about his bookie and hiding property values to keep Mr. Denaro at bay. That sort of stuff. If any of it turns out to be true—”

“It’ll land both of them in jail, probably for life,” Sebastian says.

“Solicitation, embezzlement, tax fraud, racketeering,” Waylan mutters. “They’ve put together quite the bouquet of charges. What about the sheriff? What do you know about him, Sherry?”

She thinks about it for a moment, pursing her lips. “I think he’s good people, but Mr. St. James and Mr. Hamilton have too much influence and good standing with the public. It would be hard for Sheriff Foreman to do anything against them. I think he tried to do something at one point. My parents were talking about it; they were worried the company could get shut down.”

“The company where your parents work, you mean.” She nods. “One of Hamilton’s companies, to be specific.” She nods again. “But Foreman never got around to doing any of that. We would’ve heard.”

“It would’ve been public, yes,” Sherry says. “Maybe you guys could pull the sheriff aside and possibly reason with him. Tell him everything you learned here today, just leave my name out of it.”

“Confidential informant,” I say. “It would give the sheriff some new leads, something he could work with.”

“It gives us new leads, as well,” Waylan chimes in. “But where does Cora fit into all of this? I don’t understand.”

Sherry narrows her eyes, glancing to the side for a second. “I think I might know. The other night, Mr. St. James and Mr. Hamilton were in the cigar room, getting drunk. They were giddy about a moral clause or something along those lines.”

“A morality clause,” I say.

“Yeah, that’s it. At one point, Mr. Hamilton asked if it would be enough to make Denaro happy, and Mr. St. James said he was worried that Mr. Denaro might take matters into his own hands, regardless of the clause, if only to make sure Mr. Hamilton gets the building by New Year’s Eve.” Sherry sighs. “I didn’t realize what all this was about until I heard you guys arguing with them earlier.”

“Thank you, Sherry. You’ve been incredibly helpful.”

“I just hope it doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass. If I get my parents in trouble with Mr. Hamilton—”

“Sherry, your parents will always have a job with our company or one of our clients if it comes to that,” I reassure her. “Our offer stands. And if things progress the way I think they’re going to, there’s a chance your parents will, in fact, need new jobs simply because Hamilton will have to sell everything he owns, including his businesses, to secure his defense. Because if we get proof to support everything you’ve told us today…”

“It’s gonna get ugly,” Sherry concludes with a dreaded nod.

“Yes.”

Sebastian gives her a soft smile and gently squeezes her shoulder. “Kiddo, we’ve got your back, no matter what. Make sure your parents understand that, as well, when the time comes. Should they need new employment, we will find them something that’ll make their lives better and easier. Certainly better and easier than what they already have with Hamilton.”

“They are proud and stubborn folks.” Sherry shakes her head slowly. “It’s so hard to get through to them sometimes.”

“They’ll have to open their minds and hearts and move away from the old traditions eventually,” I say. “Their survival will depend on it. People do crazy things in order to make it to tomorrow, Sherry.”

Maybe that’s what Orson and Hamilton have been doing, as well. They got themselves in neck-deep with an unsavory mobster and had to figure out a way to survive, to cover their asses and maintain their reputations. We already know they’re short on cash—and that’ll come in handy for the war we’re about to bring to their doorstep once we get Cora back.

“I hope you find Cora,” Sherry says. “She deserves better than all this crap.”