Wordswas probably code for torture before reassignment, if not straight up murder. The man looks nothing like E, tall and barrel chested, a large belly hangs over his belt. He’s fresh-shaven, the hair on his head clearly died blond over white. I remember from his file that he’s in his late sixties, but his milky blue eyes and neck jowls make him look older. He was better looking in his twenties, but his inner evil has manifested physically.
E was right, he got his looks from his mother.
Miller looks his son up and down before addressing me again as if E isn’t there. “I was surprised when I found out the assistant of some D-list celebrity was hacking my camera feeds and tracking my finances. But not as surprised as when I found out my son put you up to it.”
Other famous people might rankle at being referred to as D-list, but I don’t care at all. I’m more bothered by his assumption that E is the reason behind our investigation. “You think your son asked me to look into you?”
“Why else?” Miller mused, finishing off his glass and setting the crystal down hard on a side table. “He’s pissed I cut him off, so he found a sugar daddy.”
This maggot of a human thinks he can’t be caught. That there’s no way I know about how he makes his money. I can use his ignorance to my advantage.
“If I’m his sugar daddy, why would I need to look into your finances?”
“He’s a spoiled brat,” Miller rolls his eyes and sits up. “He’s probably begging you for vacations and a fancy car, since I never bought him one. Maybe you think I’ll give his credit cards back. He was always a runner. He’ll get what he wants and run off on you, too.”
The audacity of a man who abandoned his only child, who regularly let him go hungry, saying E is the problem. I tighten my fist, wanting to smash the man’s face in.
“Maybe. It’s irrelevant. I’m only here for my assistant,” I say bluntly. “Where is she?”
“You only want your assistant,” Miller asks, his eyes turning calculating.
“Yes. Your son is not my sugar baby, as you insinuated. He helped me break in so I can get Di back,” I give a partial truth. The best lies are rooted in facts. “Where is she?”
“So you’d trade my son for your assistant?” Miller says and then scoffs. “You’d give up his ass, just like that?”
Not wanting to take too long to think and give away how much I don’t want to trade E to this abhorrent man, I answer as if I don’t care. “Sure, if that gets Di out of your hands and back home with me. He’s your son, after all.”
Behind me, I feel the tension in E’s body. I don’t look at him to see how he’s reacting to my words, but I can’t imagine he’s happy. I promised to be responsible for him, and now I’m offering him up to his abusive father. He has known me less than three weeks, for all he knows I mean the cruel words I’m saying.
Miller considers me a moment before standing and holding out his hand, “So we have a deal? I show you exactly where your assistant is, and you leave E here with me?”
“Show me she’s alive first,” I insist, not taking his hand. When I touch him, it won’t be friendly.
“Of course, of course,” Miller chuckles. “You’re not as stupid as I thought.”
Miller pulls his phone back out right as Booker slams open the inner door and rushes into the room. “Sir, I was doing a perimeter sweep, and I–”
“Spare me,” Miller barks. “Do your fucking job or I’ll ship you off to where you can’t screw up.”
Booker bows his shaved head and stands beside Mr. Miller, gun holstered but one hand rests on the weapon. The guy looks like Mr. Clean, and I regret not killing both men on sight.
“Here she is,” Miller interrupts my murderous thoughts. Holding his screen up for me to see, there’s a feed of Di chained to a wall in a dark, dingy room. “The warehouse is in Brooklyn. We haven’t even moved her yet.”
“How do I know that’s live?” I ask, and see Di pick her head up. Her eyes are covered, and her mouth gagged, but she turns her head as if to hear better.
Miller wiggles the phone. “Because she can hear you. Can’t you Ms. Peña?”
Di makes a sound behind her gag, and feet come into view, pulling the fabric down. She coughs and says, “Mac, is that you?”
“Yes. I’m getting you out.”
Miller cuts the feed before Di can say more. “So we have a deal? My son for your assistant? And there will be nothing about me in the news or on your little show.”
Sparing a side-long glance to E, I see his face scrunched up in confusion and fear. He thinks I’m abandoning him.
A short time of hurt can’t be helped. I will get him back.
“We have a deal. I won’t talk about you to anyone while you’re alive,” I confirm, not pointing out that I plan to end him soon. Stepping forward until I’m only inches from his repugnant face, I lower my voice and drop the mask, “And if you go back on your terms, lie about the location or I find your captive hurt…You won’t like the consequences, Mr. Miller.”