Revenge: An Alpha Billionaire Romance Read Free Page B

turning white, he manages to hold himself back. I take a step back before either of us do something stupid.
    I sit back down. “Okay Pops, you're right. Just... fuck, that was Katrina. Or Kat, as she's calling herself now. What the fuck did she mean when she said that was for her parents? What the hell do we have to do with Katrina Grammercy's parents?”
    Pops shakes his head, and I know he's not going to answer me. I learned a long time ago that some things were off-limits. The problem is, I need to know. When it comes to his dealings with crooked cops, or the groups that run the Ninth Ward, or any of his other criminal enterprises, he's right. I shouldn't be asking questions, and I shouldn't concern myself with any of it. But this is Katrina... she was my best friend when we were kids. And less than twelve hours ago, she gave me half a handjob right before setting me up for global humiliation. No, this time, I need to know.
    “Pops...Dad, I need to know this time.”
    Pops shakes his head again and acts like he barely heard me. “Mike's already been informed, but you're not allowed to use the limo anymore. I can't have him associated with your bullshit any longer. These are matters best left to others, Jackson. I'll let you handle them someday when you're ready, if you ever are. In the meantime, I need you to go tell your mother that I need to discuss something with her after I speak with Nathan. Tell her to come see me here in my office.”
    Nathan. I can't help but shiver at the mere mention of that cold bastard's name. Officially, he's our head of family security. Unofficially, Nathan Black is my dad's enforcer, or worse. I don't know for sure, but I don't think I want to know for sure. Nathan has this perpetual look of surprise on his face due to a long scar that winds up and across his left eye, pulling it up slightly. On anyone else, it'd be amusing, but there's nothing amusing about him.
    “Fine,” I say and step out into the hallway. Nathan's already waiting. In the dark linen suit he's wearing, he looks like an undertaker coming to collect his next body. He greets me with a slight nod as I come out of Pops' office, but his expression is as unreadable as ever.
    “Mr. Jackson,” Nathan says in that quiet, icy voice of his. Jesus, if the Grim Reaper needs a voice, I know who he can call.
    “Nathan. Pops wants to speak with you,” I respond.
    Nathan's fifty years old, but he could pass for forty, or maybe even younger. Up close it's easy to see the fine network of crow's feet around his eyes, but it's also easy to see how his eyes are completely flat, devoid of any emotion. They're a green shade the color of swamps, and they remind me of gators. Maybe it's because Nathan's clearly a predator, just like them. “Very good. Later, perhaps we can speak on how to avoid further... incidents?” he says.
    “Perhaps,” I reply, trying not to stammer. Nathan scares the shit outta me, plain and simple. I've got at least thirty pounds of lean muscle on the man, but I have a feeling that if he wanted to, he could drop me without even blinking. “I need to get going.”
    Nathan nods and goes into Pops' office, closing the door behind him. I know I should run along, even if the request to fetch Mom is bullshit. I shouldn't be hanging around. But... it's Katrina, and the look in Pops' eyes...
    I know this is stupid, but I can't help myself. It's been years since I've done this, but I should be able to eavesdrop through the lock on the door. The mansion is an old antebellum plantation house, and it took a small fucking fortune to repair the place after Hurricane Katrina. No relation to Kat , I think to myself. Still, the interior doors are mostly original, and this one happens to date from the original Civil War days. I press my ear against the office door.
    “Mr. DeLaCoeur, how can I assist you today?” That's Nathan, professional as always.
    “That bitch...the one who set up Jackson. I want her taken care