Killing Kate(13)

“You’re that guy from this morning,” I say. “Drake?” He nods and stands watching me while I light my cigarette. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you,” he says. He makes me self-conscious and I wish I’d worn a bra because I can feel my nipples getting hard, even though it feels like Dante’s eighteenth level of hell outside. “This is your place of…business, right? I came to pay you a less than social call.”

I shake my head, trying to clear the vodka fog. “Are you fucking stalking me or something?”

He smiles and takes my cigarette out of my mouth and steps on it to put it out. “Somewhat,” he replies, making my heart beat fast. “I have some business to discuss with you regarding your father.”





Chapter 5


We are at a bar. It’s one of those 5:00 am dive bars where the lights are dark and considering the crowd and the level of hygiene, it’s for the best. Drake is drinking a beer and I have a Scotch, neat. He asks me if I’m hungry but I’m really not. I had hoped that all of the Jack business was over and I could move on with the rest of my life but my lack of intuition never ceases to amaze me.

“Jack hired me a few months before he died to manage his estate and draw up a will,” Drake is saying. “I think he knew he was going to die.” He shrugs. “Some people just do.”

“He drank himself to death,” I say, taking a long, ironic sip of Scotch. “It was bound to happen. Some of us wish it had happened a long time ago.” Perhaps before I was ever born, I think and shudder slightly.

“I think it was intentional,” Drake says. “But regardless, Jack did have $50,000 and his house, which he’s divided equally between you and Devin.”

My heart stops cold in my chest and I feel my throat closing up. My fingertips go up to my temples in an attempt to not pass out from Drake’s words. Where the fuck did Jack even obtain that kind of money? I think about this and realize Jack had probably been involved in more horrible things than I ever could have imagined. As much as I could use a permanent home and a chunk of change, it doesn’t feel good to me. “I don’t want Jack’s drug money,” I say. “Won’t some loan shark or the police just come around seize it from Devin or me if we claim it?”

Drake shakes his head. His sensual mouth tightens into a small smile that I fix my gaze on. I resist the urge to touch his lips with my fingers, wondering if they are indeed as soft as they appear. “This is Jack’s actual money, completely legitimate funds. The house is fully paid off. There’s also a car. I hope you’re not uncomfortable by what I’m about to say, Jenna, but I’ve taken the time to do a little research on you, “ he waits and looks at me to see if I look shocked. I try and restrain myself from reacting physically. “I think you could use this money. You can quit your job in that stupid cage, start over, and do something different. Maybe try going to school or starting some sort of business.” I scowl at the mention of school. I always hated school with a purple passion. “It’s entirely up to you, of course.”

“The house is also half Devin’s,” I say quietly, but the words falling out of my mouth sound hollow. I already know I’m taking this money and moving into Jack’s house. My life is shit. Drake is right. I work and live in a cage and this money and Jack’s house is my only way out of it. I want to abandon everything I have going for me or not going for me and take whatever I’m being handed. “I have to talk to Devin,” I finally say. “I can let you know what we decide.”

Drake nods. “Of course,” he tells me. “Contact me during normal business hours, preferably.” He yawns dramatically. “You’re a tough girl to chase down, Jenna Parker.”

“Not really,” I reply. “I pretty much sit around my apartment drunk or sleeping unless I’m at work.” Ugh, way too much candor, I think. Now I sound like a loser, which I pretty much am compared to the man I’m sitting next to, in expensive clothes looking perfectly coiffed and prepped for business at whatever hour of the day. I’m wearing Goodwill clothing and could probably use a hairbrush and a shower.

“I’m not here to judge you. I’m here to help you,” is his reply, and I look at him quizzically.

“Help me?” I say, looking straight at him. His brown eyes and thick lashes look sleepily at me and I shrink back. “You’re my scummy father’s lawyer, not my genie released from the lamp.”

He grins. “Money and property? I’d say I’m exactly what you imply. Your genie from a magic lamp. Your wish is my command.”