Ruthless

Chapter 5

Colin watched Jean walk out of the bar and debated following her out. She'd drunk an entire beer and part of his Jameson in the short time she'd talked with him. She'd seemed fine, though. He'd bet that she could drink a lot more than that before she started being affected, even if her size said otherwise.

Probably the biggest difference between her and her brothers was her height. At five five, she was shorter than any of her family. Probably from her mother's side of the family, considering all the Farrell men were well over six feet tall.

But tonight was good. She'd talked without turning her shotgun on him, and they'd built up a rapport. Maybe that meant the next time he showed up at her doorstep, she wouldn't be as freaked out.

He still had a long way to go before she agreed to anything though. Because she didn't know that she was the rightful heiress to her part of the Farrell fortune, she thought going with him would be against her morals.

Fucking morals. Why couldn't she be a corrupted soul like him? Hell, if she'd been even half as corrupt as this upstanding mayor who'd used her and dumped her, they'd already be halfway to New York. But he didn't want to spend months in this town, hoping she eventually changed her mind. It was time to apply some pressure.

He downed what was left of the Jameson and stood, turning until he found Eric Nasser's table. Jean had given him the quick breakdown, but Colin had known about Nasser's dealings in town well before he ever showed up.

Guys like this had to be dealt with in a particular way. They sensed weakness and preyed on it. Luckily, Colin didn't have many weaknesses to exploit. He strode up to the table confidently.

Nasser looked up expectedly. "Can I help you?"

"I was hoping we could have a talk. I wanted to discuss a mutual friend of ours. I think you know a Katherine Hill?"

Nasser perked up. "What about her?"

"I think she owes us both money. So who's going to get paid first?"

Jean slammed her hand down on her alarm clock, praying for a few more minutes of sleep. Except the alarm didn't stop blaring. Jean winced and sat up, trying to break through the layers of sleep. What the hell?

The door. Someone pounded on the damn door. Glancing at the clock, the hands read two in the morning. Shit. That meant that she needed to be up in an hour anyway, so there was no going back to bed. Whoever was here was going to get a talking-to, that was for damn sure.

Jean stumbled out of bed and pulled on a t-shirt so she wasn't answering the door in just her panties. She snatched some jeans from the top of her dresser and held them in her hands as she crossed to the door. If this was some drunk ass at the wrong trailer, she sure as hell wasn't going to bother opening the door for that.

Except when she looked through the peephole, her heart sank. She'd rather have a drunken redneck than this. Her mother pounded furiously at the door. "Hold on!" she shouted as she pulled on her jeans.

She yanked the door open once she was decent. "Good grief, I'm here. What's wrong?"

"This wouldn't have happened if you'd given me a key." Katherine pushed past Jean to come into the trailer.

"Yes, giving you a key would cause you to wake me up in the middle of the night less," she said sarcastically.

"This is my trailer too, Jean. Momma left it to the both of us."

Jean rolled her eyes. Grandma absolutely did not leave the trailer to both of them. But fighting with Katherine was an exercise in futility, and Jean just wasn't conscious enough for that at the moment.