Blackmailed by the Italian Billionaire(2)
“What do you think?” he asked, his voice intentionally toneless.
Harley shrugged. “I think you’re very interested.” He paused and Luc raised an impatient eyebrow. “Well, I might have a lead on him.”
Leaning back in his chair, Luc stared at the ceiling, giving himself time to think. He’d believed that all thoughts of revenge were behind him, that he was satisfied with his life. After all, he had more now than he could ever have imagined back in the old days—wealth, success, anything he wanted was his for the taking. But all that faded to insignificance at the news that his old enemy might once more be within his reach. He smiled. For the first time in what seemed like years, he realized what it felt like to be fully alive.
“I think I will have that drink after all. Scotch.”
They waited in silence until the waitress brought Luc’s drink, Harley drumming his fingers against the tabletop.
Luc took a long swallow. “Okay, what do you know about Jimmy Brent?”
“You know Jimmy was married?”
Luc nodded.
“Well, his wife lived in town with him on and off, probably depending on whether Jimmy had a bit on the side at the time. I was working for him back then and I often drove her around. She was classy, didn’t really fit in with the people in the old neighborhood and we sort of became friends. Anyway, they had a daughter. She must be about twenty now.”
“Twenty-two,” Luc said.
“Whatever. Anyway, she was a right little madam, but Jimmy doted on her, used to call her his little princess. It must have broken his heart to leave her behind.”
“Get to the point, Harley.”
“Well, Jimmy’s daughter called me up about a week ago and said she wanted a job dancing here at the club.” He sat back for a moment, watching, but Luc kept his expression blank. “She’s coming here tonight for an interview.”
Luc glanced at him sharply. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
Harley frowned. “I wasn’t sure I should even tell you now.” He gestured around the club. “This isn’t your life anymore. It’s behind you, and that’s where it should stay. But I owe you, and I thought you’d want to know.”
Luc sat quietly for a moment, absently stroking one finger along the scar that ran down his right cheek. The name Jimmy Brent had raised some old demons he thought he’d overcome. But could you ever overcome something like that? And now his daughter had turned up, contacting old acquaintances of her father. What could she possibly want after all these years?
“Do you think she’s genuine? Just wants a job?” he asked
“Hell no,” Harley said. “I don’t know what she wants, but I doubt very much that it’s a job dancing. If she’s anything like her father, she won’t have an honest bone in her body. Jimmy Brent was the most treacherous crook in London. You know that better than anyone. And if she’s anything like her mother, she wouldn’t be seen dead in a place like this.” He waved a hand around the club. “The thing is, though, her mum used to call me up every couple of months to find out if I had any news of Jimmy, but for the last year or so nothing, not a whisper from her. Then out of the blue this Olivia phones and says she wants to move to the city and her mother suggested she look me up.” Harley grinned. “Like Penelope Brent was ever the sort to suggest her daughter takes up stripping.” He sat back in his chair and let the news sink in a minute. “So, how do you want to play this?”
Luc thought for a moment. “She says she needs a job?”
Harley nodded.
“How about you convince her that she really doesn’t want to work here.” Luc paused, glanced around the club, and grinned. “No disrespect, Harley, but it shouldn’t be too difficult. Then I’ll make her an offer she can’t refuse.”
“So we do the old good crook, bad crook routine?”
“Hmm, just be your charming self and she’ll be begging me to take her out of here in minutes. After that, it should be easy to find out what she knows.
“What do we tell her about you?”
“Tell her I’m an old acquaintance of her father’s.” Luc smiled. “Tell her the truth. Tell her I owe her father. Big time.”
“You know, I can’t help feeling a little sorry for Olivia Brent.” Harley glanced toward the door. “And if I’m not mistaken, that must be her now.”
Luc followed his gaze and went instantly still. A young woman stood inside the doorway, staring at the dancer on the stage as if transfixed, something akin to surprised horror on her expressive features. She appeared dismayed and so out of place that Luc almost smiled. Then she turned toward them and he saw she had her father’s eyes—blue as a summer sky, seemingly guileless, and so clearly inherited from Jimmy Brent that a surge of hatred washed over him.