Southern Comfort - Fern Michaels [86]
“And you’re sure of this?” Tyler demanded one last time.
“One hundred percent. I’ll see you at eight o’clock sharp. By the way, since I have just saved your neck, I’ll want more than the original hundred grand we agreed on before. I think this is worth at least . . . let’s say half a million bucks.”
Tyler almost wet his pants. Half a million dollars! “I say no fucking way! I can’t get my hands on that kind of money, and if you’re so good at what you do, you should know that by now.” Tyler wanted to scream, kick the walls, and pound his fists on the bastard who continued to torment him with his unreasonable demands, but he couldn’t. If there was a way for him to save face, he would do whatever was necessary.
“Lawrence, Larry, I know you don’t have that kind of money, but I know you know someone who does. Figure it out.”
Without allowing him a chance to reply, the blackmailer ended the phone call. Tyler wanted to kill the son of a bitch. You didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure this out. The blackmailer must know that his father had a boatload of money, and if he knew that, then he also knew his father was the governor of the good old Sunshine State.
What the blackmailer didn’t know: It would be a cold, icy, downright frigid day in hell before he asked his father to lend him half a million dollars. He’d find it elsewhere.
Chapter 20
Jelly assured Kate that Josh and Roy were on the right track. “They’re smart, Kate. We’ve got hundreds of contacts in Cuba; in fact, one of them just so happens to be an old college friend of Roy’s. They’re pros, remember? And don’t forget, they once covered your ass, kept you alive.”
Kate nodded, “I know, but Cuba? You should have sent Sandy. She was raised in Cuba, knows the lay of the land, so to speak.”
“Trust me, they know what they’re doing.”
“I know, I know. I just hate it that you had to send them there.”
Jelly had arrived just hours after Sandy called him to tell him what they’d learned from Rosita. He’d immediately sent Josh and Roy to Cuba in search of Rosita’s aunt Constance and the man who called himself Mateo. The agents were sure that the two hadn’t used their real names in front of the girls, but then again, stupid is as stupid does, Jelly reminded them. Once Rosita had a chance to get to know Jelly, she would have him ask her if he could question her about her life in Cuba. She’d submitted to his questions, but Kate knew the poor girl was getting tired. Hell, she was tired. Sandy and Pete had just left for their dinner date in Key West. Jelly had whispered something in Sandy’s ear before she left. Kate saw the glum expression settle on her dearest friend’s face and knew her “dinner date” was going to be anything but. More like a stakeout, and not the kind of stakeout one equated with dinner.
She made the umpteenth pot of coffee, and Tick made ham sandwiches for the four of them. As was becoming the norm, Rosita’s eyes lit up like shooting stars when she was offered food. Kate wondered how often dear Aunt Constance had fed the child or if she’d used food as a means to control her and the “cousins.”
After they’d consumed the stack of sandwiches and drained the pot of coffee, Kate told Rosita she should rest for a while and led her into Tick’s room without bothering to ask if he cared. Somehow she knew Tick was as taken with Rosita as she was. The child was wise beyond her years, but Kate saw a side of her that possibly only a mother could see. The need to be loved and cared for. When Rosita spoke of her mother and father, Kate’s heart broke. She doubted that, after all