He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, pulled out a stack of hundred-dollar bills, and bounced it in his palm.
Smack.
Ten thousand dollars, hurled straight into my face.
The bills fanned out and scattered across the floor.
Zane Lambert sidled over, crouched down, and slapped his knee, laughing.
"Ha ha Haha! Mr. Perry, that's generous! Put a price tag on the little street punk!"
Perry looked down at me, voice quiet.
"Kneel."
"Lick the spilled wine off the floor."
"Then have your little friend there finish taking care of our two executives."
He tilted his head toward Mila, trembling in the corner, then turned back to me.
"Do that, and I let this go. You take your people and get out. Tonight never happened."
He stepped forward, bent down, his mouth almost touching my ear.
"Refuse."
"And both of you disappear from this world tonight."
"Fifty million in debt. I'll hang it on your families."
"Your mom with her little flea-market booth. Your uncle pedaling his delivery bike. Think they can handle that kind of weight?"
He straightened up and adjusted his cuffs.
I didn't say a word.
I stood there, head down, staring at the hundred-dollar bills scattered around my feet.
Mila moved.