Perfect Ruin (Unyielding #2)(92)

“Been here before and know the omelet is good. Greek.” The bell went and she looked over her shoulder. I didn’t. I knew it was Dorsey because I’d positioned myself at a window where I could clearly see cars pulling up and a limo had ten seconds ago. I flipped over the coffee cup on the opposite side of the table. “Another coffee, darling.” I winked and she cocked her hip smiling, a slight blush creeping into her cheeks.

“Sure thing, handsome.”

Dorsey’s dress shoes tapped as he treaded toward me and I got a lot from that. Even. Steady. Unconcerned. Which meant he was pretty damn confident. But then so was I. More so now that I had an idea where the farm was. Tyler and Vic were currently researching every known big-time drug dealer in Colombia who had been known to have Devil’s breath.

The waitress moved away as Dorsey slid into the booth, his one hand immediately wrapping around the coffee mug. It was a crutch, a subtle sign of insecurity that had me inwardly smiling.

Dorsey had two men in suits standing at the car, both with their arms crossed and watching through the window. He also had a man who came in the door behind him and sat on a swivel stool at the counter. Yeah, he was insecure, as he should be. He knew how I was trained and what I was capable of.

I skipped the pleasantries as I sat back, my arm resting on the back of the seat. “Ernie?”

Dorsey took a sip of coffee then nodded. “In the back of the limo.” I didn’t let the relief show. He put his mug down and took a serviette from underneath the cutlery and dabbed his thin lips.

He wore a suit with over-priced cuff links glittering like a beacon, and a tie, silverfish grey with a light striping and done up tight to his neck. I never wore a tie. Hated them for the simple reason that a tie was a noose around your neck and could easily kill you in the right hands. I didn’t need my wire when a man wore a f*ckin’ tie.

Dorsey was handsome enough for mid-sixties, dignified appearance with sharp features and short, salt and pepper hair. He didn’t have an issue getting the girls he wanted and according to what I knew about him, he liked brunettes, tall, and a quarter his age.

“He’ll die if he doesn’t get the drug.” He was talking about Connor. “Hand him over and he’ll live.”

“Not my call.”

His brows rose. “Suddenly, you aren’t calling the shots? Interesting. And a step down for you.”

I grinned. “I call it a vacation.”

He laughed and it sounded like the low roar of a motorboat starting up. “I always liked you, Kai. Thought your mother gave you too much rein, especially with the situation concerning the girl.”

“You’re under the assumption I have reins, Dorsey.” I lowered my voice. “I don’t.”

The waitress slid my omelet and hash browns in front of me. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No. That’s good, thanks.”

“Sir, anything for you?” she asked Dorsey.

“No,” he replied and the waitress moved off. “You were asked to bring her in. You hid her away in a house no one knew about.” He paused when I didn’t say anything because there was nothing to say. I did exactly that. Mother found out and shared the info with Dorsey. “And then you burnt it down.”

I dug into my omelet with my fork, the cheese, tomato and olive leaking out the sides. “You care what I did to my house?”

“I found it ironic, actually,” Dorsey said. “Seems fire follows the girl around.”

I’d been trained for shit like this. How to keep my cool when I wanted to punch my fist through his chest and rip out his heart. He knew about the fire at London’s house at university when I dragged her out, half-conscious. He f*ckin’ knew and I was betting I knew why…. He was responsible.

I shrugged and took another bite. “We done talking about bullshit? I’d like to enjoy my meal without you.”

Dorsey shook his head. “The farm wasn’t my idea. It was your mother’s originally.”

I knew that. Dorsey wouldn’t like paying money out to feed kids and farm handlers for years before seeing any results. No, it would be someone much more patient who saw the long-term rewards.

He continued, “He thinks he runs this organization ever since he took over the farm. Your mother started it in Afghanistan, but when that kid escaped,” Tristan, “he took it over. Gave him more control and he uses the kids for his own purpose.” He tilted closer, lowering his voice, not sure why when no one else was around. The waitress was busy chatting up his bodyguard who wasn’t paying attention to anything she said. “The drug is the new direction. Less time wasted and more control.”

By the look of Connor right now, control was the wrong word. I reached in my front jeans pocket and slid the USB across the table toward him. “Do whatever you want with it. I don’t give a f*ck, but I want the farm and who runs it.”

He nodded to his bodyguard who came over, picked up the flash drive then went back to the counter and plugged it into a small laptop he had on the counter. Dorsey gestured to the car and one of the guys opened the back door and Ernie staggered out. Another guy followed him and he didn’t look too willing. Well, he was, but he was a quivering mess of a five-foot nothing skeleton.

My eyes went back to Ernie. Christ. He was beaten to a f*ckin’ pulp and had a bandage on his right hand. I barely glanced at him though and took another bite of my omelet.