Page 2 of Promised To A Menace

“Then buy it.”

My brows pulled together. “What the fuck does that mean? What's the price?”

His eyes stayed on mine. For the first time since he'd walked into the room, his expression changed. It wasn't amusement. It was something worse.

Like he'd decided exactly what he wanted before my ass ever walked through those doors.

“My price isn't money.”

My stomach tightened. “Then what is it?”

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached into the drawer beside him and pulled out a folder before sliding it across the desk.

I looked down at it but didn't touch it.

“What the fuck is this?”

“Your way out.”

My eyes went back to him. “And what does it cost me?”

Jefferson settled deeper into his chair before saying the last thing I expected to hear.

“Your firstborn daughter.”

For a second, I thought I'd heard this motherfucker wrong.

“My what?”

“Your firstborn daughter.”

A laugh slipped out before I could stop it. Not because anything was funny, but because that shit didn't make a lick of sense.

“I don't have any kids.”

“I know.”

My laugh died just as quickly as it came. Something about the way he said it made the hair along the back of my neck stand up.

Jefferson pushed the folder another inch toward me.

“You asked me to name my price, Barrett.”

My eyes dropped to the folder again before slowly lifting back to his.

“And if I never have a daughter?”

His mouth curved into a slow smile. “Then I guess you better pray you never do.”

The meaning behind his words hit me. If I ever had a daughter, she belonged to them. If I didn't, I'd spend the rest of my life knowing my freedom depended on keeping it that way.

I dragged a hand down my face. I wasn't expecting none of this shit. I'd come in hoping Jefferson would name a number or give me one last job. Something I could do to be finished with this life for good.

Not this.

“Look, Jefferson, let me think about it,” I finally said.

“Think about it?” A low laugh left him as he leaned forward. “Nigga, there ain't shit to think about. Either you sign it, or you and that girlfriend of yours end up dead.”