DJ held a cup of water so that the old man could sip from a straw. “In where?” he asked, being deliberately obtuse.

Pastor glared at him out of watery eyes. “Idiot,” he wheezed. “You know what I mean.”

“And if he objects on moral grounds?” It was unlikely, but one never knew. Joshua was a pompous prick who’d taken well to keeping multiple wives who satisfied his every whim. He’d probably have no issue with any of the truth.

“Tell him there’s money in it for him. That’ll level his moral ground. I want you to make a video of him swearing his loyalty and his silence with that phone of yours. Then bring it to me and prove that you’ve done as I ask.”

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.