Behind Closed Doors (Behind Closed Doors #1)(71)

“Holy shit,” Daniel says, giving Jason an incredulous look. “A hundred grand?”

“I wanted inside that storage unit,” Jason says. “And I want this axe out of the air.”

“You’re obviously affected enough by these threats to offer a hundred grand for that unit,” Daniel says. “But you still manage to keep winning.”

“I play well under pressure,” Jason says. “It’s just who I am.”

“Let’s not say that beyond this room,” Daniel says. “We don’t want anyone to think you’d pay that in a blackmail fee.”

“I wouldn’t,” Jason says. “Because blackmail never ends. You pay once, you pay again.”

“That’s true,” Daniel says, his attention returning to me. “I played baseball. Your father was one of my idols.”

“He was, and is, that to a lot of people.”

“And he cut you off?”

“I’m sure if I sucked up and told him what a god he is, he’d throw me some change,” I say. “But if I never see that man again, I’m fine with it.”

“Understood,” he says. “I have the privilege, and I say that jokingly, of having a father who fits the same mold.”

“All right, then,” Jason says. “We need a break from all this dark ugliness. I say we order a shit ton of food and eat while we wait for Buddha to update us.”

“Buddha,” Daniel repeats, “who is a mob guy. I don’t like it. And who the hell are Ella and her father? Because that man is dangerous.”

“If you believe that, why did you taunt him?” I ask.

“You never show those guys fear. Ever. But he is really f*cking dangerous, yet Ella has him on a leash.”

“She’s just a schoolteacher,” I remind them.

“?‘Just’ a schoolteacher who has a mobster father, or a connection to the mob. I’ll dig around.”

“Don’t,” Jason orders quickly. “We don’t need to taunt yet another bear when we don’t even know the name of the one on our heels. I want to take this one step at a time. We need to know what’s on that security footage, and I’ll assess the risk of allowing him to offer any more support, based on where we stand after he does this for us.”

“He wants you to keep winning,” I say. “So it seems Buddha has some motivation to protect you.”

“Everyone wants me to either win or lose,” he says, “which is why I don’t talk or think about what anyone else wants me to do. So let’s order that food. I’ll call Abel and see if he wants to join us.”

“Don’t count on Abel,” Daniel calls out as Jason disappears into the living area. “He’s pissed at me for having the people around you investigated.”

Jason turns around inside the archway. “He’s pissed? Abel doesn’t get pissed.”

“He did today,” I say. “He said it was going to mess with your play.”

Jason’s brow furrows. “Now Abel’s talking about my play? And doubting me.” He shakes his head. “You know, things like this just make me want to win all the more.” He walks out of the room.

“He will, too,” Daniel says. “Sometime soon, whoever’s trying to shake him will figure that out, and either give up or—”

“Come at him another way.”

“Exactly. And our best hope of preventing that at this point is a mobster named Buddha. I need a drink.”

? ? ?

TWO HOURS LATER, we’ve pigged out on what turned out to be basically a mini buffet Jason had brought to the room. Once we’re done, Jason and I settle down on the coach, Daniel on the leather chair beside us, while they tell me stories and try to explain poker to me. It’s interesting to watch how Daniel and Jason interact without Daniel’s * persona present. And it’s crystal clear that these two not only respect each other; they’re friends.

“If you intend to become my woman,” Jason says, “you have to know this stuff.”

“He has a point,” Daniel says, surprising me by showing no resistance, and moving an ottoman closer to the table. “I cannot, and will not, approve the progression of this relationship if you don’t know his game.” He taps the table. “Throw me some dues.”

I laugh, and I don’t let myself linger on Jason’s “my woman” thing, but it’s not sounding like such a bad thing to be right about now. And when Jason gives me a warm look and winks, then tosses Daniel a card, I could easily double down on that opinion.

Another hour passes, with lots of much-needed laughter for us all, disrupted only by Daniel’s cell phone ringing. He digs it from his pocket and glances down. “Blue City,” he says to Jason. “They’re still pushing that stock-pricing adjustment.”

“No,” Jason says. “That’s unacceptable.”

“I know,” Daniel says. “I’ll handle it.” He accepts the call and walks to the kitchen, where I can hear his * side back in full force.

“What’s Blue City?” I ask Jason.

“A gaming company, and one of my larger investments.”

“Daniel handles that for you, too?”