“You’re right, boss, but he wishes to speak with you, and he sounded rather desperate. Maybe this is still our in . . .” He trails off, and that’s when the stars align. He may just be right. I’ve been looking for a way in, the debt that Aldridge owes Boris could be exactly what I need as leverage.
“Very well. Tell him to come here.”
Hanging up, I stalk toward the bathroom. I have to get ready for the day. Turning on the shower, I wash the night off.
The phone rings the moment I step out, so I secure a towel around my waist and answer it.
“Speak.”
“He’s begging for you to come to him.”
“The fuck, Z?” I respond. “No.”
I don’t go to him. That’s my one rule. I don’t leave my fortress. People come to me, not vice versa. Not to mention the fact this trouble his father got in isn’t my problem, it might be my solution, but it’s not my fucking place to go to him to solve it.
“Boss. I’ve never heard him sound like this.”
“I said no.”
“He said it was life or death.”
Interesting. “Go on.”
“He was rambling about a sister. I think this could be our ace in the hole.” Z’s voice rises. The pieces of the puzzle for Trent Aldridge’s desperate phone call click into place. This isn’t about money. It’s about his sister. The fucker didn’t listen. I don’t condone trafficking. Now there will be consequences.
“Tell him I’ll be there.”
Today will be an exception. I’ll go to him because I allowed this shit to go down, and they’ll have to pay the price for going against my ruling.
“Very well, boss. I’ll have the chopper readied,” Z says. There is nothing more to talk about, so I hang up and head into my closet to get dressed.
Now donning my usual three-piece suit, I head out of the room, down the hall, and then I exit the house. In the distance, I see my heliport. Z is standing beside Maxwell, who will fly it. Once inside, it’s fired up, and we head down to the city.
In.
Out.
Soon, we’re landing on the roof of a building I own. We hop in my car, and then we are off to the address Trent provided for us.
Fifteen minutes later, we park the car outside a brownstone in the West Village located on a quiet street.
This is good. There will be no witnesses if I have to use violence to drive my message home.
“What do you want to do, boss?” Z asks from where he sits in the front seat beside Maxwell.
“Get him.”
A few moments later, I see a very different Trent. Not the same man who comes to play in my Friday game each week. Normally, he looks like the rich playboy next door. Today, he looks like a disheveled mess.
Like he hasn’t slept in days.
Even from here, nestled in my car, I can see through the car window how he shakes. Rage? Fear? I’m not sure. But he doesn’t look like he’ll be able to sit long enough to tell me what the fuck is going on.
I fling the door open to the car and step outside. It’s unusually warm today. I walk to where he’s pacing.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“I can’t stop him,” he mutters under his breath as he buries his hands in his hair. “I don’t know what to do.”
“How is this my problem?”
He takes a deep breath. His chest rising and falling. “My father.”
“Again, I don’t see how this concerns me.” I clench my jaw. I knew that fucker would be an issue. The moment I saw him, and as I watched the game, I knew. Fuck. “I’m not seeing how this is my problem.” But it is. And no matter what I say, I know it is.
“Your game—” he starts, but I don’t let him finish as I grab his jacket in my hands.
“This has nothing to do with my game,” I grit. “Your father shouldn’t have been there. This is on you.” I’m pissed, and it should scare him. Trent does something I don’t expect and pulls away from my hold. He’s bolder than I first thought, but even with this new bravado, I can still tell that my words crush him.
“I need your help.”
“There is nothing I can do for you.” I move to turn and go back to the car. I don’t need to stay for this, and I’m pretty fucking pissed that I left my fort for this. Even though I came here in order to figure out a way to spin this in my favor, it’s not worth the hassle to deal with this level of stupidity.
“Stop.” His voice is strong. “Yes, it is my fault, but I can’t let him take her.”
I knew this is where it was going, but the words have me halting my movements.