Rich Blood (Jason Rich #1)(60)



“I still don’t get it,” Jason said.

Ashley folded her arms. “I’m going to be your mentor.”





44


Jason decided to get a pizza at Sa Za in downtown Montgomery. He’d almost asked Ashley Sullivan if she wanted to join him but thought better of it. She’d already done him a huge favor, and he didn’t want to screw anything up.

Still, he had to admit that he liked the redheaded attorney from Cullman. She seemed to care, which was a far cry from how he felt anyone else connected to the state bar felt about him. Of course, he was going to have to jump through a few hoops if he was to keep Ashley as his mentor, starting with going to at least one AA meeting between now and next Wednesday and finding a local therapist in Marshall County.

Jason gazed at the draft beer selection on his menu. What would be better right now than three or four IPAs and a pizza followed by about twelve hours of sleep at the Renaissance Hotel across the street? He remembered the sight and scent of the beer that Knox Rogers had been drinking at Yellowhammer Brewing, and his mouth watered.

Instead, he ordered unsweet tea with a calzone and a Caesar salad. He ate quickly while sending check-in texts to Nola and Niecy. He’d hoped to stop off at Birmingham Southern on his way home and see Niecy, but she texted back that she was studying for a test and couldn’t spare any time. Things were still icy between the two of them, but she had thanked him for taking in Nola at Mill Creek and had begrudgingly admitted that security for her at college was probably a good thing for now.

He’d made millions as an attorney and hadn’t spent much of his fortune. He had to protect his family regardless of the cost.

As he sent back a no problem response to Niecy, a man sat down across from him and put both elbows on the table. Jason felt the hairs on his arms stand up. “What do you want?”

“To remind you of our deal.” Tyson Cade grinned. When the waitress walked by, she asked if he’d be joining Jason, and Tyson said yes. He proceeded to order a large pepperoni and a draft beer but asked that she make his pizza to go. Once she was gone, Tyson looked at Jason. “Thanks for the treat.”

“I don’t need a reminder,” Jason said, irritated by the intrusion and cursing himself for not bringing any security with him.

“I think you do,” Tyson said. “I’ve seen all the people you’ve hired to look after your place. I assume that was because of our encounter.”

“You assume right,” Jason said. “But that doesn’t mean I’m planning to back out on our deal. On the contrary, I’m planning to fulfill my end of the bargain.”

“Jana won’t testify.”

“Not a chance.”

“Humor me,” Tyson said. “How do you plan on defending the murder charge if your sister doesn’t testify?”

“I don’t know,” Jason answered, figuring honesty was the best policy in this instance. “But testifying that she paid money to a drug dealer as a down payment on the cocaine she’d purchased doesn’t sound like a great alternative. Regardless of the murder charge, that puts her in jail for at least five years.” He leaned closer to Cade and spoke in a low tone. “In other words, if she testifies, she guarantees herself a jail sentence. I may not have much criminal defense experience, but I know that would be unwise.”

Tyson waited while the waitress placed his beer in front of him. Then he took a long pull from the mug. “I’m feeling better already,” he said.

“Good. Then why don’t you get out of here.”

Tyson’s grin faded. “Because there’s something else I want from you.”

“What’s that?”

“Fifty thousand dollars.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Fifty grand. Your sister owes me quite a bit of money for her coke habit. I’ve got some angry suppliers that haven’t been paid.”

“She paid you fifteen grand the night her husband was murdered. That’s why she took out the money.”

“Says who?”

Goose flesh broke out on Jason’s arms. “You, I thought.”

“I never said that. Is that what Jana told you?”

Jason kept his mouth shut as the waitress handed Tyson a box. He opened it and stuck a slice in his mouth.

“You’re playing games with me,” Jason said.

Tyson took his time as he chewed his food. When he was done, he downed the rest of his beer in one gulp. “That’s not my style, Counselor.” He got up and leaned close enough to where Jason could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Fifty grand cash. Meet me at the Alder Springs Grocery on Monday with it. Comprende?”

Jason found he’d lost his voice.

“Counselor? You care about those nieces?”

“Of course I do,” he replied, his voice suddenly hoarse.

“Good. I’ll see you on Monday.”





45


An hour out of Montgomery, just south of Birmingham, Jason couldn’t take it any longer. He got off at the Calera exit and stopped at a Chevron station that had a liquor store attached to it. He bought a pint of Jack Daniel’s and a six-pack of Yuengling. Once back on the interstate, he opened the whiskey and held the bottle to his lips.

Robert Bailey's Books