If only Ashton knew exactly who he was dealing with right now. He took a drag of his cigarette, exhaling in Ashton's stupid, smug face. Unfortunately for them, he held all the cards. They couldn't negotiate a deal for a dead girl, now, could they? In the end, Lance smirked, his lip slightly twitching.
They had always been pathetic.
"Fine, guess I can't help you."
"Give him what he wants," Natalia snarled at Ashton.
"My ass will be handed to me—"
"Who gives a shit about you? This is about Kayla! And every second you've wasted flapping your big lips is a second taken away from her life."
Ashton sighed. "Fine. I'll do it."
"I want that in writing," Lance tilted his head. "Tomorrow."
"Anything else?" Ashton grit out. "How about a foot massage?"
"Maybe later," Lance tossed the cigarette on the ground. "Once I have what I want, you'll get what you want. Fair is fair."
They glared at him.
