You Distract Me

What's Your Problem?

Shayne's POV

"You might be going to prison, Shayne."

I froze in my car seat as Jason Long sat stiffly beside me.

The silver haired man had arranged for us to meet at a secluded parking lot near the beach. He'd shown up in a baseball cap and a hoodie, frequently looking over his shoulder as he'd approached the car.

And now as I eyed the sheen of sweat against his cheeks and forehead, I knew I was in big trouble. "What are you talking about?"

He adjusted his cap before replying. "You know I work for a few other people, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, there are some that don't really abide by the law sometimes. And believe me, I don't condone such behavior . . . "

"Get to the point."

He adjusted the cap again. "They did bad things, and I . . . I helped cover some of those things—which I'm not proud of—but now all my clients are being investigated, even you."

"So you're an idiot, what has that got to do with me going to prison?"

"You're being investigated."

"So what? I have nothing to hide." I immediately saw the guilt in his grey eyes. "What aren't you telling me, Long?"

"I was very discreet, I swear."

"I'm willing to bet you weren't discreet enough. What the fuck did you do?"

"Remember that Turkish investor I helped acquire for your company?"

Of course I remembered him. I also remembered discovering that the man was a money laundering investor. And Sasha hadn't wasted any time in cutting all ties he had to the company.

"That was two months ago, I'm sure I'm not suffering from dementia. Get to the damn point, I don't feel like repeating myself."

Jason Long licked his thin lips and took in a deep breath. "Well, I uh, I hadn't tied all connections. He still transfers money to one of your offshore accounts."

"That's impossible, I get a daily update of what leaves and enters my accounts."

"This account in particular is under your name, but you are not aware of it. I made it without your consent."

The one hand I had on the steering wheel tightened, while the other one reached under my seat and pulled out a heavy, sleek and silver Beretta.

Long's eyes widened at the sight of the weapon and he tried to bolt, but I'd already pressed the safety lock.

"Relax, I don't feel like using it. But you'd better start giving me a reason not to get in the mood." I held the gun in my lap, finger on the trigger and the barrel aiming straight for his chest.

"Oh my god." Surprise and horror paled his bony face.

"Look, I get it. I'm the easy one, the weak one, the one that isn't much to worry about. It's completely understandable, Jason, I don't blame you."

Hope blossomed in his eyes as he looked between me and the gun.

"But," I accentuated the word with the click of the safety catch, "I don't have much patience and I'm really excited about hearing the whole story."

"Jesus Christ, okay, I'll . . . I'll tell you everything you need to know."

"Good man."

☘