Page 4 of Creole Kingpin
Confirming my suspicion, Mount motions toward one of the leather chairs. “Sit. We need to talk.”
“Yes, sir.” My show of respect doesn’t come from a place of fear, but it’s real all the same. I owe this man a lot for what he’s done for me.
While I’m settling into the seat, he crosses to the sideboard and pours amber liquor into two glasses without asking me what I want. It’s fine, because I know he’s got whatever top-shelf Seven Sinners whiskey Keira has sampled lately.
Mount returns to the chairs and sits in the one beside mine before offering me the drink. I take it, hoping it’s a good sign that he didn’t drag me through the corridors to his other office—the Spartan one where the most serious business goes down.
“Thank you.”
I’m dying to ask why he summoned me here, but Mount swirls his whiskey in his glass before taking a sip.
“You’re welcome,” he says as he crosses an ankle over his knee. A faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, and I’ll bet he’s thinking of Keira as he swallows.
I’ve never seen a woman have such an effect on a man. That’s why I risked so much on them being perfect for each other. And I was right. Then again, I’m rarely wrong when it comes to things like that.
At least, with respect to other people. I have absolutely no sense when it comes to men for myself. Never have. Probably never will.
I’m thinking my favorite thought—that I should swear them off completely—when Mount finally speaks again.
“You’ve got trouble.”
My mind tears away from my ruminations, and I turn to stare at him. “What kind of trouble?”
“The Feds are surveilling the house.”
I set my whiskey on the table between us and shift in my seat to face him. We both know I don’t technically own the house he’s talking about anymore, but I still consider the women living in it to be my responsibility. “Well, fuck. Why?”
“Alberto Brandon.”
I flip through my mental black book until a face and a bio come to mind. “Fifties. Prefers young blondes over his wife. Likes being called Daddy. Always flashed a lot of cash. Why are the Feds looking into him?”
Mount tastes his whiskey again before replying. “He’s been moving a lot of money around in ways that particularly interest them, except they can’t seem to find him. He’s been MIA, and now his money is too. Hence, their interest in the house.”
“Fuck,” I whisper this time. “Do you think they’ll bust it?”
He replies with a lift of his shoulders, as if he’s not willing to sayI don’t knowout loud.
I release a rush of breath and jam my fingers into my hair. “I’ll tell Desiree. She’ll have to be careful until the heat’s gone.”
When I mention the name of the girl who is buying the place from me through a bond for deed, Mount shakes his head.
“Not just careful. She needs to relocate for a while if you don’t want her exposed.”
“Shit. That bad?”
Mount’s expression never changes. “Would I be telling you this if it wasn’t?”
Slightly mortified,I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Of course not. You wouldn’t waste your time. Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll help Desiree deal with it.”
“Good.”
When Mount doesn’t say more, I study him for a beat. “Is that all, sir?”
He meets my gaze for a long moment. “For now.”
Even though I want to hug my arms around my middle so damn bad, I rise with my shoulders straight and my chin held high. “Thank you. I’ll show myself out if we’re done.”
Something unsettling flashes in his dark eyes. “Done? Not by a long shot. But you can go. Keira wants to see you.” He moves his hand and the fireplace turns, revealing his silent right-hand man who is built like a bull. “V will take you to her.”
