I could feel my eyes narrow and my jaw tighten, and I was pulling my breaths deeply. I wanted nothing more than to beat this little POS's face into pulp. But that would seriously interfere with the plan and probably stir up a whole bunch of shit that I really didn't need flying.
When I failed to rise to his bait, giving him nothing more than a sharp stare as I towered over him, the little prick grew uneasy. "Yes. Well. Okay. Just so long as we are clear here."
He cleared his throat and swallowed nervously under my steady glare. I was not letting up. The man had insulted my woman and insulted me personally. That shit did not stand in my world. Tonight may not have been the night for me to make that clear to him, but he would at least understand that I was in no way, shape, or form intimidated or cowed by his attempt at power talk.
One thing I could say for the guy, though, was that his instinct to stay alive was working appropriately. He saw the threat that I posed and perhaps realized he may have pushed me too far. "Okay, Mr. … Dom, right?"
"That's Mr. Parker, to you." I'd take nothing less than full-on formal respect from this douchebag from now on.
"Uh-huh. Mr. Parker." He eyed me warily. "Maybe you need a minute or two to … take a breather. Take your time." And he scurried out of the office like the hounds of hell were at his heels.
I was still too pissed off to laugh. But I knew that I'd be laughing at that image later. What a fucking useless prick Joey Ronn was turning out to be. He was no more than a sick yes-man to Fielding, and a sleazy pimp to his dancers. And a fucking blackmailing slimebucket to Clav. Damn, I needed to find something that could be used as evidence against this worthless POS.
I looked around me for a moment and realized my extreme good fortune. Ronn had chosen to use Fielding's library-study for our little tête-à-tête. Effectively, it appeared that I had found myself in his home office. With his computer. And a desk with several drawers. And an external hard drive just sitting out, attached to the laptop that was lying on top of the desk. The arrogant twat had just left his shit out in the open. Un-fucking-believable.
Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I palmed the hard drive and pocketed it to look into on my own time once I got out of this shithole. I then further searched every drawer of the desk, finding nothing of note there. Remembering myself, I followed the general practices of all wise heisters and I used the bottom of my shirt to wipe down the desk and computer area to rub out any prints.
I turned to the rest of the room, which was lined with built-in bookcases. The lower shelves mostly featured large leather-backed series, while the middle and upper shelves had more seeming variety. There were gaps here and there, where framed old-style maps and porcelain figurines posed.
On the surface, there was nothing sticking out as obvious or odd or notable; there was no clear place to start. I randomly pulled out a few books here and there, and they were just books, filled with paper pages; most appeared unread. I picked up a couple of figurines, and they weighed about what you'd expect. No tripped wires or hidden anything, as far as I could tell.
I decided the rest of this room was a dud and that I'd already hit "pay dirt," as Sienna would say, with the hard drive. I also figured I'd been in there long enough and it was time to go back out and check on my woman. I knew Ship had had his eyes open, watching out that nothing might happen to her. But she was my woman to protect, not his, and I needed to be sure of her safety in this viper's nest.
When I reached the living room again, where most of the tuxes and naked female bodies were gathered in their assorted states of high and loaded, I failed to see Sienna. Ronn was there, and Ship was standing by a wall near him, looking over the room. I caught his eye and raised a brow, asking from afar where my woman had gone. His eyes flashed upward with a head tilt in the same direction, so I understood that my girl was following our plan as well, investigating the rooms upstairs. I sent Ship another query by face, asking if she was okay, and he nodded briefly. I chin-lifted a thanks and scanned the room again, looking to pinpoint Fielding and Ronn, the two scumbags I was most concerned with.
I didn't see Fielding. This was not great. But I had to trust Sienna; I had promised her I would, and it hadn't been that long since I'd left the room, maybe only fifteen or twenty minutes. I'd give her a little more time before freaking out.
I decided it was as good a time as any to get Ronn alone again to get more info. I had been too angry before, when we had been in the library, to think of what needed saying and doing with the little ass, so a second go at him was due.
I made my way through bodies vertical and horizontal and everything in between until I was standing at Joey Ronn's back. I tapped him heavily on the shoulder. When he looked back, then up at me, he scowled.
"Do you need something?" He attempted a contemptuous tone with his high nasal.
"It's more a matter of what you need," I replied, not hiding my ire as I eyed his nose and his throat. Damn, but I wanted to do some damage to this motherfucker's face. I was pretty sure he got the point.
"Are … are you actually threatening me?" Ah! He was catching on.
"Yeah, I'm threatenin' you. I need some answers, and you are gonna give 'em to me, or I will gladly start my joyful work of rearrangin' your face until you do."
His eyes popped wide, and he squeaked out, "Here? Now? What the fuck is this, you fu-"
"Ah ah ah, it's Mr. Parker to you. Now do you want to do this here, or would you prefer a more private location?"
His eyes darted over to Ship, but my man's face gave nothing away and he shrugged. And Joey realized he was on his own.
"Your Pres is gonna pay for this. You both want that? I don't know what your issue is, Mr. Parker, but you'd better take it down a notch. You're out of your league. Don't overstep. Now, get out of my way."
I took him by the bicep-jeez, I could almost wrap my hand around his entire arm-and pulled him slightly in front of me, guiding him back into the gigantic foyer of the McMansion, saying, "Shut it, Ronn. Your options for the night are limited. If you're a good boy, you'll tell me what I need to know and you might get out in one piece. Maybe."
I wasn't too sure of my ability to hold myself back. This piece of shit deserved a roughing up so badly, and I was still itching to give it to him.
He showed wisdom and kept his mouth shut until we got back to the library and shut the door.
When I released his arm, he turned to me, seething and demanding, "Just who the fuck do you think you are?"
"I know who I am, and I know who you are, too. You have a big problem, and it's time we address it. It's about a little snuff film, and knives, and a dead girl, and a dead brother of mine. Does that jog your memory?"
His eyes narrowed to slits, and he smirked. "Ah, it just might. So you want-what? What exactly do you think I can provide you with?"
I wanted a lot of things. I wanted this motherfucker to pay for Manny. I wanted Fielding to pay for Tania. I wanted evidence to incriminate both of them, evidence that could go to the cops and put these two away forever. I wanted to get out of Hardcore for good. I wanted our MC back. I wanted to find Pres's daughter, Zoe, in one piece and alive. I wanted this whole fucking nightmare to be over.
But I had to start small here. "I want to take Fielding down. What's his hold over you? Or are those types of pornos your sick preference, too?"
Understanding and superior knowledge lit his eyes. "Ah. No. His tastes … shall we say, he represents a distinctive niche of the market, one that is … ah, so specialized that men such as he are willing to pay top dollar for. Supply and demand, you know. It's the way the world works."
He looked proud of himself, like he hadn't just made the most sick and abhorrent and criminal predilection sound merely offbeat and unique for the wealthy and discerning connoisseur, and he smirked again. I just about growled. There was nothing right about these people. They should have been wiped off the face of the planet long ago.
"So it's all about making money for you, then? Anything for a buck?"
"Ah, well … " he drawled. "Perhaps there's a little more. He's invested rather heavily in my industries. He's the silent controlling partner behind Hardcore, and one might consider him as silent executive producer, if you will, for the cinematic ventures. On occasion, he opts to have a more, shall we say, personal involvement in the-ahem-artistic offerings. My tastes run a bit more mainstream, but I know enough not to judge him. You might be wise to take that lesson, and just keep your fucking nose out of business where you don't belong."
"I see." But I got him here. "So you just provide the … actors for his ‘special productions,' then? Did you choose Tania, or did he?"
"Tania. No, Tania was right up his alley. The perfect girl. Money hungry, willing to do anything for it, sign her life away-figuratively speaking, of course. She also was fairly deeply in debt. I was helping her out, giving her another way to make some significant extra money on the side. I merely provided an introduction, and they took it from there."