Chapter 8

8

HARKER

“ Y ou underestimate me, Mr. Jameson. I’m not only promising that your money will come out clean, I’m telling you, I can do what you want at double the speed,” the Accountant says.

He's scrawny, gangly, and balding, with thick spectacles that reflect the low light of the lamp on the desk in front of him, masking his eyes. His wide grin is enough to send shivers down the spine of even the bravest men, and his voice is as shrill as nails on a chalkboard.

The Accountant, as he likes to be called, is a man I’ve had the displeasure of working with for too long. But he’s damn good at what he does, even if what he does is so damn bad.

“How much are you trying to squeeze me for?” I know what this is about. He’s not going to do more work out of the kindness of his heart. He wants a bigger cut from the proceedings I send his way.

“I won’t play coy. I’ve done some digging, and I know how much this little operation of yours is worth.” The corners of his lips twist into a toothy grin. “Don’t worry, I know about the assassinations too. Ghost stories are all based in some sort of truth as it were, and when people come to the Underworld but don’t escape it…” He pauses to chuckle as if he just came up with comedy gold. “It’s not hard to put two and two together.”

“How much do you want?” I repeat the question, but sterner this time.

“It’s not what I want, Harker. Those numbers are unattainable, and I’d be a fool to pretend they were within reason. So, instead, what I’m going to take is eighteen percent flat.”

“And here I thought we were negotiating.” I’ve got to hand it to him. Not many people would step into my home and make demands. I’m not sure if I want to shake his hand or cut his fucking tongue out and feed it to him.

“That’s the beauty of this. We are negotiating,” he says. “Well, you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I raise a brow.

“Either you’re in or I’m out.” He lays it down flat. “Take the offer, let me work harder, and wash more money. Trust me, it’s going to be a bigger payday for all of us if you just take the deal. Alternatively, I walk and leave you to your demise.”

“You forget that I’ve done your job before. I use you because you’re convenient.”

“And convenience comes at a rather high premium these days. Have you seen the price of gas these days?” The Accountant snickers and runs a hand through his wispy hair.

“We’re at an impasse then.”

It was bound to happen eventually. Nothing lasts forever in this line of work, and oftentimes everything comes crumbling down because of greed. I’ve seen it too many times to count. But as I stand in front of the Accountant, I don’t feel the same fear and panic I used to. I’ve made my fortune and stashed it away. I’ve let my home crumble and wither because the upkeep wasn’t worth the value. I’ve seen my world thrive and my enemies burn.

But with Penelope, I finally feel content. My life has been one of strife and loneliness for what feels like eons. A single glimpse of her was enough to change that, and now? I don’t see a reason to fight for what I no longer believe in. I’d much rather watch it all burn to rubble than put myself on the line again to make sure her father and uncle can continue living their lives of disdainful luxury.

“I’m not going to accept your offer,” I say after some thought. “In fact, you can take it and go fuck yourself.”

My words strip the smile straight off his face. It’s replaced with a twitching nose and rabid snarl. “You’re going to regret this.”

“Maybe. Or I’m going to disappear into early retirement and watch you bastards scramble around for what to do next. Doesn’t that sound lovely?” I don’t turn my back on him or the two dogs hovering over his shoulders. “Now, if you’d be so kind, get the fuck out of my house.”

The Accountant doesn’t say another word, commanding his lackeys to follow him with a wave of his hand. I follow them to the front door, and once they’re gone, I return to the basement. The ref stands in the middle of the ring between the two boxers. He’s shouting the rules of a good, clean fight, and the crowd around laughs. There’s nothing good or clean about what’s going to happen in that ring.

I let them go on, less interested in their battle than seeing Penelope again.

But as I face the bar, I see Zander beside her. He’s speaking, and she’s crying.

Instant fury makes every inch of my body burn red hot. My fists ball so tightly, I can feel my nails digging into my flesh.

It’s fight night, and aren’t these bastards packed in my basement lucky they’re going to get two for the price of one?