Say Goodbye (Romantic Suspense #25) by Karen Rose

            Motherfucker. DJ made himself smile. “That’s fine. What about the additional payment? That security guy last night said you’d have to make another payment for the rehab center once the surgery was completed.”

            Pastor’s eyes fluttered shut. His breathing was deeper now. More regular. They must have given him a painkiller. “Already . . . took care of it.”

            “What?” DJ clamped his lips together after nearly shouting the word. He hadn’t meant for it to come out so loud. “When?”

            Pastor smiled with the same smugness that he’d exhibited last night. “Coleen dialed my banker and gave me the phone. All done,” he said in a drunken singsong.

            DJ gritted his teeth. “How much?”

            “Quarter mil.”

            DJ tried for control when he realized his fists were clenched and fantasies of beating Pastor to a pulp were going through his mind. “That’s a lot of money.”

            “Not your money,” Pastor murmured. “Not your concern.”

            Not my money? “It is mine. Half of it, at least.”

            “Not until I’m dead. Which is why I’m not giving you the access code.”

            DJ scowled. “You don’t trust me?”

            “I don’t trust anyone. Don’t forget that I raised you, boy. I know what you’d do if you had those codes. I wouldn’t be . . .” He began slurring the words toward the end and trailed off.

            “He’ll sleep for a while,” a voice said from behind him.

            DJ whirled around to see a nurse watching him. “You shouldn’t have eavesdropped.”

            She shrugged. “I hear a lot. I say nothing. I stay employed and alive. As I said, your father will sleep for a while now. We’ll move him to the rehabilitation center in an hour or so. He’ll sleep through the transport. That way we can keep him comfortable.”

            Like DJ cared about Pastor’s comfort. Fucking bastard. “I see. What are visiting hours at the rehab center?”

            “That depends on the patient. Some patients’ families are more comfortable visiting under the cover of darkness. Others don’t care. You can speak with the charge nurse once he’s settled in.” She stepped aside, gesturing for him to leave. “You can pick up the keys to your vehicle at the back door. Your mother is waiting for you there.”

            “She’s not my mother,” DJ bit out.

            The nurse shrugged again. “Either way, she’s waiting for you. I’d advise getting something to eat. By the time you’re finished, your father will be transported.”

            There didn’t seem to be much more to say. Pastor was sleeping. DJ wasn’t certain that the old man had intended to disclose his reasons for not sharing the access codes. It didn’t really matter now. The cat was out of the bag. So DJ went to the back door, where Coleen waited.

            The muscle man from the night before had been replaced by a different muscle man, clad in a similar suit, carrying a similar rifle. And holding his keys.

            Without a word, DJ took the keys and stalked out, Coleen following behind him. Once he’d made sure that the rifle he’d left in the back of the truck had not been stolen or tampered with, he got behind the wheel and glared at her. “What was the access code?”

            She stared at him. “What?”

            “The access code,” he said from behind clenched teeth. “The words that Pastor told his banker. Who you called for him.”

            “I don’t know. He told me to leave the room.”

            For the love of . . . “And you obeyed?”

            Her eyes widened. “Yes.”

            Right. Because they’d trained the women to do so. “Fine. I’m going to a drive-through for breakfast and then I’ll drop you off at the rehab facility. He’s ordered me back to Eden.”

            “I know.”

            “So he told you that, but not the codes?”