Cash: A Dark Romance (Saint and Sinners Book 2)

by Ruby Vincent

  “The first thing I’m buying is that gold headboard.”

  “Buy it for your new apartment. Anywhere in the city,” I said. “Give this one to Captain. We’ll get his couch moved here.”

  “So you know, I’ve started outing the pedophiles. I’ve contacted three different news outlets claiming to be a survivor of the Castian. I’ve asked to be kept anonymous, and told them the names and preferences that were in that guy’s little black book. I gave them the details of that night so they know it’s real. Those monsters won’t get away with what they’ve done.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Happy talk now.” She looped the trail around my feet. “How else will we make it rain? Can Momma G finally buy that new sniper she’s been eyeing on the dark web?”

  “She can buy two. As long as there’s enough money left over to get information on a guy named Richard La Roche.”

  “La Roche? Why is that familiar?”

  “Senior year. You and your troupe put on a private performance for alumni? La Roche was there. He came up to us to compliment you, and I remember thinking only the wealthy have names like Richard La Roche.”

  She nodded along. “Yeah. He was cute. Definitely silver fox vibes.” Gianna reached the end of the outline. She continued on, encasing me in a wall of money. “What’s the deal with him?”

  “Apparently, he’s the best white-collar criminal the world has never seen. He’s set himself up with a stable of thieves and forgers that counterfeit, deal in stolen antiquities and forgery. He’s also been the Kings’ main bankroller for three years.”

  She stared at me.

  “I’m serious, G. The silver fox is a sly fox.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Cash,” I replied. “He finally told me the plan. Part of it anyway. The Merchants will offer La Roche a deal to break with the Kings.”

  “Ballpark bankroller for me.”

  I calculated the numbers. “Three years. Let’s say about a quarter of a million changes hands every weekend in the casinos. Patrons dropping real bills, and Kings handing over phony cash. Minus the expenses of running a criminal enterprise. I’d guess their arrangement with La Roche nets seven point eight million a year. Even when you take out La Roche’s cut, that’s a great stinkin’ hunk of money.”

  “Yeah, it is. Addy, if the Merchants pull this off, it’ll be the Kings who? Money like that, they can buy everyone in this damn place and put a mask on them.”

  “I choose my men well.”

  “So, what’s our angle? I’d love to snake this deal out from under them, but we have even less to offer La Roche.”

  I shook my head. “We’re not messing with the deal. We can’t. There is our lack of resources for one. And two, the double play in this plan is forcing Kieran to step in and stop the attacks on the Kings’ business.”

  “Why would he?”

  “The Merchants believe Kieran is connected to the Kings in some way, and their logic is sound. Dad traced Kieran to The Pleasure Center four years ago. Before the murder overhauled the business and Angelo tightened security.

  “If Kieran or a messenger approaches Killian, I need to be there, and Kieran needs to believe this is nothing more than the Merchants trying to elevate their status. Killian’s predictions haven’t been wrong yet. I can’t risk throwing this one off course.”

  “Just scoping La Roche out, then?”

  “Yes. Whatever deal Killian makes with him will be my deal when I take over the Merchants. I want to know who I’m getting in bed with,” I relayed. “So far, I know he’s bold. Arrogantly so. He displayed a forged lost masterpiece for the entire world to see.”

  “You mean La Libertad?” I peeked over my money wall and saw her on her phone. “Searched his name and it was among the first articles to come up. You’re telling me this is a forgery?”

  “Yep, and a beacon to forgers worldwide—saying to all ‘I’m better than you.’”

  “He definitely sounds like my type,” she mumbled.

  Laughing, I nudged her shoulder. “Look into a guy named Dax Palmer. That’s where Mercer is starting. He’s an assistant.”

  “Got it. Scope out La Roche. Hang back. Let the Merchants bring Kieran to us.”

  My phone buzzed in my pocket.

  “Exactly.” Fishing it out, I answered, “Hello?”

  “Hello, Miss Redgrave?”

  “This is she.”

  “Hi, I apologize for disturbing your morning. I work at Waterford Retirement Home. I’m one of your father’s caregivers. Ms. Duncan.”

  I sat up, knocking over a money stack. “Is something wrong?”

  “Your father is well. He’s currently enjoying a dip in the hot tub with Mrs. Arnold and Mrs. Peters.”

  That man lives the high life, doesn’t he.

  “But there is an issue,” she continued. “We need to discuss the latest... incidents, and what we can do to address it moving forward. Destroying property, gambling, giving an eighty-four-year-old man with a bad hip a leg up over the wall—among other things.”

  I sighed. “Say no more. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  “Thank you, Miss Redgrave. See you soon.”

  I hung up. “I’ve got to go, G. Daddy Red is up to no good.”

  “Isn’t he always?” She scooped up an armful of money and ran for her room. “Starting my apartment hunt. It’ll have a fireplace and a sauna. Probably never use that bitch, but I want it anyway.”

  I left Gianna to her fun. Skipping downstairs, I climbed in my car and drove past the home for Salvatore’s parking lot. The path from the home to the restaurant was bustling with people and had friends on either end. If Jocelyn was hanging about looking for revenge, I wouldn’t make it easy for her.

  The automatic doors released a blast of cool, lavender air. Mrs. Rowe jumped up at the sight of me.

  “Adeline, I’m so happy to see you. How are you feeling, dear?”

  “I’m fine.” I sank into her hug. “It’s becoming a familiar routine at this point. Cancel the cards. Never keep more than fifty dollars in cash on me. Order a new sushi wallet. Don’t know what I’ll do if they stop making them.”

  “Oh, Addy.” She hugged me tighter, willing comfort into my bones. “You don’t have to be strong for me.”

  No, I have to be strong for me. Jocelyn will never make me that helpless little girl again. My hand fisted on her shirt. Never.

  “Miss Redgrave?”

  Tara Duncan emerged from the double doors leading out of the lobby. She was a short, thin woman with ruddy cheeks and spots of adult acne. I didn’t have many direct dealings with her. She was one of many caregivers looking after the residents.

  “Right through here,” she said.

  “Is there a problem?” Rowe asked, echoing my question.

  “Daddy has had—”

  “No problem,” Duncan cut in. “I just wanted to speak with Miss Redgrave on ways we can make Oscar’s stay more comfortable.”

  “Of course.” Rowe imparted one last hug.

  I followed Ms. Duncan inside, trailing her down the hall to the game room. She pushed open the door and stepped aside for me to go in ahead.

  The game room was a tiny corner of the home. Smaller than my bedroom. It boasted a small couch, two tables, four chairs, and a cabinet of board games. I took a seat at the table.

  “Is it about the mattress?” I asked. “I’ll pay to replace it.”

  “No, this isn’t about the mattress.”

  “That old man didn’t break something else going over that wall, did he? Jasmine said he was fine. Barely a scratch.”

  “He is fine,” she replied, sitting across from me. “This is about Mrs. Watkins.”

  “Watkins? What about her?”

  “Over the last several weeks, she and your father developed a friendship. At night, after lights out, they’ve taken to meeting in each other’s rooms.”

  “Oooohkkayy,” I drew out. “I’m afraid I haven’t evolved to
the point I can talk about my father’s sex life. Whatever the old man’s up to, if they’re both willing, it’s none of my business.”

  She put a hand out to stop me getting up. “They are both willing. The issue is Mrs. Watkins’s children, and Mr. Watkins.”

  “Oh.” I sat back down.

  “Mr. Watkins lives here in the south wing.”

  The south wing was a locked wing. It was for residents who needed dedicated care and attention.

  “He has dementia and doesn’t recognize his wife most days. Even so, their children are very upset at the idea of their mother having a boyfriend. Usually, we don’t intervene, but they’ve threatened to stop paying for her stay here if it doesn’t end.”

  I massaged the bridge of my nose. “I understand. Do you want me to talk to him?”

  “That won’t be necessary. You see, the solution we came up with is baby monitors. We hid them in their rooms, so the night workers would hear if they met.”

  I stilled. “Excuse me?”

  “The other day, Nancy forgot to turn off the monitor when she left. I took over the shift and overheard an interesting conversation while I was in the nurses’ station.”

  Slowly, I raised my head. A smile played on that pimply face.

  “Between you and your father,” she spelled out, smirk widening.

  “You put a listening device in his room without informing him?” I forced through gritted teeth. “That’s a violation of his privacy. I could get you and Nancy fired.”

  “Right,” she sang. “Because that’s the issue here.”

  I sat up straight, back rigid. “What is the issue? I had lunch with my father. We talked about nonsense and joked around. Not a big deal.”

  “Yes, it did sound like a joke. You going on about witnessing the murder of Raiden Spencer. Kidnapped by his killers and then, plot twist! You fall in love with them.” She howled, peeling my lips from my teeth. “But how could you not? You’re a killer too. This Angelo Castillo guy didn’t know what hit him.”

  Everything. She heard everything.

  “By the time I realized it was real, you were halfway through your conversation. It’s about then I turned on the recorder.”

  “Recorder?” I pulled my new notepad out of my purse. “What recorder?”

  “The one I have safely tucked away. You’ll never find it,” she said. “But I will give it to you. For one hundred thousand dollars. I’ll give you my phone and the recording on it. That’ll be the last you hear of this.”

  “One hundred thousand dollars.”

  “It’s not like you can’t afford it.” She swept out her hands. “No one that can afford this place can claim they’re broke. Plus, I’ve seen that new car you’re driving around these days.”

  “Have you,” I said simply.

  “Tell me, did you really witness the death of Raiden Spencer?”

  Shaking my head, I scribbled something on my pad. “Nope. Didn’t see a thing.”

  “Come on. It’s just us.” Duncan folded her arms, leaning back in her seat. “You clearly don’t have a problem with gangsters or murder, but you couldn’t have known then that all the Merchants— Did I use the right name? That all the Merchants wanted was a little pussy. I would’ve turned them in the second I got away. Told the cops that Sinjin, Cash, Brutal, and Mercer put a broken bottle in Raiden Spencer’s neck.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Ms. Duncan.” I flipped the page. “I don’t know anyone by those names.” I laughed. “Are they names? Who calls their kid Brutal?”

  “You going to play dumb about Angelo Castillo too?” Temper leaked into her voice. “That confession I did record, and I looked him up that night. A man matching his description was fished out of the water with another hole in his neck. Courtesy of the knife you plunged in it.”

  “Ms. Duncan, that’s a load of poppycock.”

  She frowned. “Poppy... cock?”

  “Big, fat load of it.” I laughed. “Isn’t poppycock a fun word to say? There are all sorts of fun words we never use. Like cattywampus.”

  I held up the notepad. Written in huge, uppercase letters were the words:

  I will kill you.

  Duncan froze, mouth open.

  “Or balderdash,” I cried. “Say that one with me. Balderdash. Balderdash.”

  I flipped the page.

  I’ll slit your throat and drain the blood from those Pikachu cheeks.

  “Balderdash.”

  I’ll rip every hair from your head and stuff it down your throat.

  Her cheeks weren’t red anymore. Duncan paled dangerously in the fluorescent lights.

  “And jabberwocky,” I said. “Did you know it was a real word that means nonsense speech? I thought it was just a monster in a poem.”

  You’ll die wishing all I did was stab you in the neck.

  Duncan shot up, toppling the chair. “Threatening— You’re threatening me!” she shrieked. “You just showed me a note saying I’ll die wishing you stabbed me in the neck!”

  “I did what?” Outrage kicked me up an octave. “What the hell are you talking about? Are you high?”

  You’ll regret this day, bitch.

  “You wrote notes threatening to kill me! They said you’d rip out my hair and slit my throat.”

  And you just proved you’re recording this conversation too.

  “Ms. Duncan, I’m sitting here talking about funny words. I haven’t harmed or threatened you in any way.” I got up, and she lurched away, tripping over the fallen chair. “Is this some kind of psychotic break? Do I need to call a nurse?” I flipped to the last page.

  And it’s the last regret you’ll ever have.

  “Give me your phone,” I said brightly. “I’ll get someone for you.”

  “Get away from me!” She ripped it out and lobbed the phone at my head. It went wide, crashing into the wall. “I bought that this morning,” Duncan hissed. “You want the right one, get me my money!”

  My fingers twitched. It’d be all too easy to kill her right here. The chair legs she was wrestling with would dent her skull without a hitch.

  But Mrs. Rowe saw me go in with her. As did the security cameras.

  “I hope you get the help you need.”

  “You have two weeks,” she flung at my back.

  I walked out and went straight to Dad’s room. He wasn’t there, but he didn’t need to be. I found the baby monitor under his bed quickly and set it on his nightstand. When he saw it, he’d take care of the rest.

  “Bye, Adeline.” Mrs. Rowe’s cheery smile followed me out.

  “Bye, Mrs. Rowe. See you soon.”

  I melded into the flow of pedestrian traffic, dialing Gianna.

  “Hey, babe. How’s Daddy Red?”

  “I’m coming back to your place,” I replied. “We have a problem.”

  Chapter Five

  “Adeline, where is the lobster crostini?”

  “I brought it out, Chef.”

  “And the shrimp tartlets?”

  “Waiting for your final approval.”

  “Excellent.”

  The praise was likely for him in congratulations for pulling off another successful event. I decided to take a little of it on. I did prep or cook most of the food.

  Ryan kept me dangling till nearly the last minute. Two days before, he called me up and said I could work the Rothchild-Lysandro wedding. I jumped at the chance.

  Gianna called our relationship ten times more dysfunctional than hers would ever be with Raul. She didn’t understand that I needed to cook. It was like I told Saint. This was how I did good.

  I needed a double dose of good deeds. They’d make up for the bad ones to come.

  Ten days since Duncan threatened me. Ten days to her deadline.

  My mind wasn’t made up on what to do. She called me again from the home to demand a ransom drop, and my distance of one hundred feet at all times. I also got a call from Mrs. Rowe apologizing left, right, and center for the baby mon
itor my father found in his room. The night nurse was fired, and my dad made the staff sweep every inch of the place daily while he watched.

  Unfortunately, the night nurse didn’t bring Duncan down with her. She was still there and holding our secret over my head.

  I had the money to pay her. All the same, I knew without Saint’s warning in my ear, that if I gave her the money, it would never stop. She had ammo in two murders, a robbery, a kidnapping, Kieran, the names of the Merchants, and that they were connected to Adeline Redgrave. Not to mention proof positive that the world forgot the Redgraves at their peril.

  Whether or not the recording truly existed, Tara Duncan could not.

  If she isn’t stupid, she’s got the recording and someone she trusts hanging on to it in case I come after her ass.

  That thought stayed me for more than a week. Time was running out.

  “Adeline, why are you standing there?” Ryan snapped me awake. “Put out the fruit skewers.”

  “Yes, Chef.”

  Picking up the tray, I left the kitchen of the Williamson Historical Home. A pocket of history in our industrial city. Williamson Home was a preserved Victorian-style house on the edge of Leighbridge. Beautiful and charming it was. Up to date it was not. The old-timey cookstove had two burners.

  We cooked all of the food off-site, then drove them over with an army of heat lamps to keep them tasty as the wedding party shot two million photos outside.

  I weaved through the staff and entered the ballroom. Saint was helping himself to a plate of marinated shrimp and stuffed mushrooms.

  “Saint?” I hissed. “What are you doing here?”

  “What are you doing here?” he returned. “You have a job, Bunny.”

  “One day, you guys will realize you don’t have to pay your girlfriend to stick around.”

  “No shit?”

  “When you do,” I said with a laugh. “I’ll have Ryan and Salvatore’s to fall back on.”

  “When that happens, you’ll have taken your place in the organization, and gotten the raise in pay that goes with it.”

  “Why are you here?” I arranged my skewers next to the summer berry martinis. “Better question. How did you get in? There are guards posted on every entrance.”