I Blackmailed Her Brother
(Love at First Crime #5)
By Jessica Frances
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2018 Jessica Frances
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Jessica-Frances-Author
Cover Design by MGBookcovers
Editing by C&D Editing
Table of Contents
Title
Copyright
Dedication
Synopsis
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
Note to Reader
Where to Find Author
More Works by Author
I Blackmailed Her Brother (Love at First Crime #5)
I blackmailed her brother, so she took my heart and held it ransom.
I made a mistake.
I did something unforgiveable.
I broke her trust.
I shattered the life we were building together.
And I hate myself for the pain I caused her.
But then someone thought they could threaten her,
Thought they could come after the woman I love.
They need to think again.
I am stronger than I have ever been before.
I am determined to win her back,
And no one is getting in my way.
Not our friends.
Not her family.
And definitely not the crazy maniac who is after her.
I will protect her.
I will salvage what we had,
And I will make us stronger because of it.
Not every relationship can be built on solid ground,
And maybe betrayal and blackmail might not make for a great foundation,
But then again, as some people say: there is nothing quite like love at first … crime.
Dedicated to all my friends and readers who encouraged me to write this book.
I hope you enjoy Cynthia and Scarlett’s story!
Prologue
April 18th
“We need footage inside that building,” Gemma unnecessarily tells me for the umpteenth time, pointing out what has been our main issue since we arrived this morning. She nods across the street at The Cloud Hotel.
It’s new to Chicago and caters to the rich and famous, since no regular Joe can afford their outrageous prices. Rumor has it, since I am clearly not in the paygrade to gain firsthand knowledge, there are guards stationed on every floor, in every elevator, and at every exit. Every staff member is fingerprinted and has to perform an eye scan at each level. Not only that, but since opening a year ago, they haven’t needed to add any new staff. Everyone is known to the other personnel, and there is almost zero way we can bypass any of that to get in.
I huff out a breath of annoyance. This was a last-minute job that Zander, our boss, threw our way, a favor for a mutual friend, since we finished the Ledgerson case earlier than expected. However, I figured out a way to get in almost as soon as I found out where we were heading.
In my haste to wipe the more plausible plan from my mind, one I know is rife with trouble, I throw out a different suggestion. One I realize isn’t feasible as soon as the words leave my mouth.
“Can’t Zander just shell out the money and get us a room on the same level?”
Gemma expels her usual annoyed sigh at me. I think it comes as natural to her as breathing. “How do you propose we get into their room without the guard on that level getting suspicious? A keycard to a different room is useless. Being on the same floor isn’t enough.”
I groan in frustration. Gemma and I have been sitting out front of The Cloud for an hour, running through different scenarios. Well, actually, she has just been requesting that I come up with different ideas then seemingly taking glee in shooting every one down.
In the six weeks since switching jobs and becoming a P.I.-in-training, I have made many idiotic suggestions.
Ever since I asked Zander if I could move out of my office job and become a P.I., I have been riding with Gemma while she teaches me the ropes. Getting a license is the first step, but experience is the only way you will make it in this field. Since I have none and wasn’t letting it go, Zander stuck me with the only person who wouldn’t argue back to having a hanger-on.
Gemma Lane.
She is our newest employee, only joining J.P.I. just under two years ago. Technically, we weren’t looking to hire anyone else at the time.
Zander started J.P.I. roughly nine years ago. He immediately hired his two best friends, Joey Kim and Declan Lockwood, and along with their other friend Sasha Jennings acting as receptionist, they found everything manageable. Along the way, they hired Jerry, a man I think only Zander has met, to help with most of the digital stuff. He’s a voice on the other end of a phone or the words from an email. That is all he will give us. We don’t even have his last name.
When they became more successful and our clients began to rapidly multiply, it started to get a bit much for Jerry to handle. So, I was hired. And for close to three years, I have been really happy, albeit unfulfilled.
I wanted more, so when they mentioned hiring a new P.I., I was so close to putting my hand up. However, I missed my chance when they hired Harvey Newberry. And as far as we all knew, that would be that for the foreseeable future.
Then, a few months later, Gemma came in. We didn’t know it at the time, but her sister had been missing for a couple years. She had spent that entire time tracking her down. When it connected to the case that Ava, now Zander’s wife, had stumbled upon years ago, involving women being sold, tortured, raped, and murdered, well, it certainly got Zander’s attention.
That case thankfully wrapped up just over a year and a half ago. Gemma’s sister, Shannon, was found alive, although not unharmed, and the man who was at the head of the organization was brought down. With all the information they were able to gain, the entire operation was down for good. Gemma then took a year off to focus on helping Shannon get better, and then she approached Zander to start back up.
None of us had been sure she would ever come back and we don’t talk to Gemma much. She also makes zero effort to talk to us unless it’s about a case. We’ve learned to accept her for the quiet, uninterested-in-our-personal-lives person she is. And I like to think she tolerates us as best as she can. Maybe she even likes us deep down, hidden under piles of glares, barbed comments, and annoyed sighs.
There are times when she has to step away to help Shannon. But, since New Years, she has worked hard to prove herself. The determination she took with finding her sister is still the same determination she has today.
All that meant I was worried to speak up about wanting to change careers. After going to college and getting a computing degree, I didn’t want to throw that away. However, with the strong support of my girlfriend, Scarlett Booth, I finally worked up the courage to ask Zander if he would be interested in training me.
It had been nerve-racking, and I was in desperate need of a shot of alcohol afterward, but I did it. And although he was reluctant—not the reaction I had hoped for—he decided to at least humor me.<
br />
Since being assigned to Gemma, she has opened up to me by perhaps one percent. And by that, I mean I know she hates pickles on her burgers and is a mayo on everything kind of girl. And I get the occasional tidbit about her sister and how she’s doing.
As far as I know, they both live alone together, and there is no one else in the picture. Given Gemma’s obvious love and the sacrifices she has made for Shannon, it proves to me that, no matter how prickly she is to all of us, there is a soft-hearted woman underneath it all.
“Tell me again why Jerry can’t just hack into the cameras and get us something?” I sound whiny, which I quickly shake out of myself. I don’t want to come across as though this isn’t important, or like I think the obvious suggestion hasn’t already been attempted and dismissed for a good reason.
My frustration is gnawing at me over the chance of this being a failure. It won’t be our only chance, but any delay won’t please Zander. And dammit, I want to please him! I want him to realize I can do this, that I deserve the chance.
No matter how much I logically know it isn’t, I can’t help thinking of each job as being a test to prove I have what it takes.
And I know I have it. I can do this.
“Because,” Gemma says on another sigh, “Captain Douchebag and Princess Bitch don’t arrive together. They don’t leave together. And the only time they are in the same room together is in that hotel room. We need proof of their affair. There are no cameras to hack inside their hotel room!”
And the insider trading likely happening during their pillow talk is what we need a recording of to take to the authorities, I finish off for her in my mind.
Zander’s mutual friend is the wife of Captain Douchebag, the name Gemma affectionately gave him after seeing some snaps of him on a houseboat wearing a novelty navy outfit that his wife had supplied Zander. The woman’s name is just one Gemma supplied on her own.
It’s my turn to sigh, dread settling inside me.
“Besides, we can’t do our job by having Zander pay ridiculous amounts of money just to get us inside. It’s our job to do this without spending whatever profit we make getting the dirt. Part of the job is figuring this shit out. So, tell me, how would Cynthia Park get around this issue?”
I glance down at my lap, fiddling with the charm bracelet Scarlett bought me just a couple weeks ago. Right now, it has two charms on it. One is a small metal flower in the shape of a sunflower, my favorite. And then there is the new addition Scarlett gave me just last night—a small magnifying glass, signifying my new job.
Things have been going great between us. After meeting just before Christmas last year through Harvey and Nix Conway’s drama, along with them getting together, we’ve been officially dating for almost four months now, and while we have been keeping it somewhat light, things are beginning to get serious.
I have never felt this way before. Well, not since I dated my now ex Vanessa. Even then, this feels different. It feels right. And I fear what I need to do is so completely wrong it could wreck everything we have been building together.
But, what else am I supposed to do? Zander wants this wrapped up quickly and neatly, and I think I have a way to do that. I know I do. However, I also know that it’s likely going to have consequences I won’t like.
But, isn’t that what this job is about to me? When you are passionate about something, when you want it badly enough, you make sacrifices and put everything on the line. You prove to everyone just how serious you are.
“Need an answer. Or, are you not up for this after all?” Gemma snaps.
I glance up at her, letting my fingers drop from around the cool metal bracelet.
Since I made my intention to go out in the field known, I have seen many looks from my friends, telling me they aren’t sure I am making the right choice. Hell, I think I have given myself plenty of them in the mirror.
I know what Gemma is waiting for. She wants me to give up. She wants me to tell her I’m not cut out for this case, and maybe not even this job. She doesn’t think I’m ready, and she isn’t the only one.
Sasha, one of my best friends and our office bitch, as she often calls herself, thinks I’m going through some sort of early midlife crisis. And I know Joey is one head pat and kiddo label away from acting like I’m being a troublesome toddler.
We are all like one huge family at Jameson Private Investigators, and a lot of that is because of the loyalty and respect Zander commands and gives as our leader. So, when he asks for a favor, no one wants to let him down. And whether or not it is, I can’t help feeling like this is another test, another chance to prove myself to Gemma, to Zander, and to everyone else.
No one gets that this is important to me.
No one but Scarlett.
I immediately move my fingers back over the charms, my resolve hardening.
I have to do this.
And she has to forgive me for this.
Right?
“I have an idea,” I finally say.
“Hallelujah,” she quips. “Speak up, then.”
“Grab the hidden cameras and put them in your handbag,” I tell her, knowing Gemma has a bag in the back for this kind of thing. She isn’t generally a handbag kind of woman, carrying light and has pockets for whatever she deems necessary. But, since we are often expected to play parts and blend in, we have trunks full of clothes and accessories that might come in handy.
“Wait. What?” Gemma barks, not moving to do what I asked. “We’re just going to walk in there and hope for the best?”
“Not quite. Just trust me,” I say, placing my cell on silent. That is a lesson I learned the hard way on day one with Gemma.
“Trust is earned, and you have done nothing to earn mine.” Gemma shakes her head, not one to mince words or hold back.
“Then loan me some trust,” I retort with an eye roll, getting out of the car. I straighten my clothes and pull my hair loose from its ponytail. “We need to look like a couple,” I explain, watching her reaction as she swings her handbag full of our supplies over her shoulder.
She is hot, with alabaster skin, a dark-blonde bob that looks effortlessly styled, and endless cute freckles over her cheeks and nose. She could be mistaken for a sweet country girl … until she opens her mouth and tells you to fuck off.
Yeah, Gemma is an acquired taste. One I’m not sure any of us will ever fully acquire.
Gemma’s reaction to my explanation is to simply shrug. Nothing seems to faze her.
“Okay, but if this screws up, that’s on you. You can call Zander and explain what the hell went wrong.”
While Zander is a great boss—probably the best I have ever had—and wouldn’t hold a grudge over a mistake, especially while in training, I don’t want that. I don’t want to let him down.
As we near the hotel doors, I grab Gemma’s hand, feeling a jolt of surprise at my touch, but she doesn’t pull away. Then, as the doorman opens the door to allow us entrance, I plaster on a huge smile and make sure I walk with an extra bounce in my step.
Gemma doesn’t exactly follow with the same enthusiasm, but her smile doesn’t look as painful as I’m sure it is for her to show.
The inside to the extravagant hotel is likely what you would expect for an establishment that costs most people their yearly wage just to stay for a week—wide open spaces and minimalistic photography over the walls. Most look like something any child at Teagan’s, Joey’s partner, childcare center could replicate; although, without the five-figure cost attached. The floors are shiny and likely continuously buffed to maintain its polish, and even the air smells like the perfect combination of a summer breeze and crisp fresh air. I breathe it in deeply, not just to clear out some of my nerves but because a part of me thinks this is the healthiest and cleanest air my lungs have ever had the pleasure of scenting.
I notice a few people scattered throughout. Many employees are keeping to the edges until they are needed, while a few guests appear to be enjoying the seating nooks as they
read their papers and drink their teas that are served in the finest china, of course.
Firming up my back and taking one last deep breath, I turn my head in the direction I have been avoiding. The one that means I can’t turn back, even though that became the case the second I walked through the doors. Nevertheless, this is my job and this is the choice I have made. I just hope it won’t be one I come to regret.
Time is ticking, and if we don’t do this now, then we will have to wait for their next rendezvous and getting that information isn’t easy.
“Wally? Is that you?” I feign surprise at the sight of the young man standing at the front desk.
The narrowing of his eyes on me and Gemma is concerning, though not surprising. What if he makes a scene, though? I know he loves Scarlett, yet he’s always been selfish and self-centered.
I assumed his connection to working at such an establishment would keep him from making any rash decisions. With how red his face is turning, though, beginning to match his hair that is a few shades lighter than Scarlett’s, I wonder if his brotherly instincts are kicking in and will mess this up for me.
Then I watch him bite his lip, his eyes darting around. He lowers his head, his voice matching his quiet manner, and I realize my first assessment of what he would do holds.
He’s not going to risk his job by causing a scene, even if his first instinct is to accuse me of cheating on his sister.
“It’s Walt,” he grounds out. Scarlett only ever uses his nickname, so it has stuck with me, not that this pleases him one iota. “What the hell are you doing here?” he hisses, lowering his voice further.
“I need a favor,” I tell him just as quietly, placing my hands on the front counter and leaning forward.
He narrows his eyes on me. “You’re stepping out on my sister and you need a favor? You have got to be kidding me.”
I cringe at his words. I could never cheat on Scarlett. Even pretending right now is tearing me up inside.
“Listen, this isn’t what it looks like. We need access to one of your rooms.”
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