‘Suit yourself.’ I start to rise, to leave, to get the hell away, but he shoots up, halting me halfway to standing.
‘Wait—just hear me out.’
I look at his pleading gaze. Is he going to open up? Do I really want him to if it means I have to stick around? But what if it means understanding his intentions towards Coco?
I’m already dropping back into my seat, my inner messed-up stance driving my decision.
He lowers himself once more and forks his fingers together on the table, leaning in again. ‘Truth is there’s no one better than you at this. I know that. You know that. And I need this. Believe me, it’ll be worth your while.’
‘I charge a flat fee. We’ve—’
‘Double. I’ll pay you double.’
I don’t react visibly, but inside the adrenalin rush has my every sense on high alert. My fee is already substantial—to double it would be laughable. No amount of information is worth that.
Questions ha
mmer ever more acutely through me. What does he hope to achieve? How low will he sink? How much danger is Coco in?
‘I mean it, Livingston—man to man now,’ he insists.
I swallow back the rising bile. In my mind he lost his man status the second he showed his true nature.
‘You get me that evidence and I’ll pay you double—maybe more if it’s juicy enough and you can deliver it in the next two weeks.’
I have to swallow again and force my hands to relax their death-grip hold over the arms of my chair. ‘Why the rush?’
‘Time’s running out.’
‘Why?’
‘You need to stop asking so many questions.’
‘And you need to try answering some.’
‘I’ll tell you what you need to know and no more.’ He reaches into the inside pocket of his blazer and pulls out a folded piece of paper, which he slides across to me. ‘Try this place. I hear she’s a regular...’
I take the sheet and bite back a curse. I know what I’m going to see before I even unfold it. But seeing Blacks in scrawled handwriting has my gut in knots.
I throw back my drink and pocket the piece of paper.
‘Well?’ he presses.
I get to my feet and look down at him just long enough to say, ‘Consider it done.’
Then I walk away, recounting what I know now.
Time isn’t on Philip Lauren’s side and he won’t stop until he has what he needs. And if he knows about her presence at Blacks then he already has contacts who, with the right persuasion, will give up what he’s asking for. Hell, he might even try to gain access himself—not that Jackson will let him anywhere near the place once I’ve spoken to him.
I’m Coco’s last hope. So long as I’m on the job and he’s not going elsewhere I can ride this out.
And if he does decide to employ another PI, they will fail, because I’ll see to it she stays out of trouble.
And what about you?
Seems I’m destined to walk straight back into trouble...
But in my case, who said trouble couldn’t be fun? If keeping her safe means sharing more of what she asked me for earlier this evening, out of the public eye—or, more specifically, out of her brother’s eye—then where was the harm?