“I should tell you something,” Scarlett says, taking me out of my thoughts and focusing back on her.
“Yes?”
“When Wally and I sent my parents away, I made them promise to contact me every day. I said, even if it was just a text message to make sure they were okay, I wanted to hear from them. I know they thought I was being silly, and there has been a couple of times when they went a day without messaging me, but it’s been three days now. I’m worried.”
Without thinking, I take her hand, squeezing it tightly. I want to wrap my arms around her, hold her to me and offer her comfort, but I don’t dare. I’m already pushing what is acceptable.
“You emailed me their travel details with the other information, right?” I confirm, suddenly even more relieved to have Gemma helping me, since my workload just got heavier.
She nods, worry in her eyes.
“Then, as soon as I get you back to the restaurant, I’ll get on it.”
Her shoulders droop in relief, and her smile is a small one. I just took away some of the concern weighing on her.
Fingers crossed I will find her parents without a scratch on them and keep that worry off her shoulders.
***
A few hours later, I am no closer to finding Scarlett’s parents. In fact, I have worse news for her.
Nathan and Isla Booth spent nine days on their cruise without incident. However, three days ago, they went ashore in France for an excursion and never returned. Given the thousands of people who got off and back on the ship, their presence wasn’t missed immediately. The ship was docked there for two days, and apparently, it isn’t uncommon for guests to do their own thing during longer stays ashore. But the ship left yesterday and, according to their room cards, neither one has used them to open their quarters in the past three days.
That is not a good sign.
In fact, this is awful news.
Best case scenario is there has been some mistake and, while their phones simultaneously broke, they themselves are fine and this is all a big misunderstanding.
Even I know that is a longshot and unlikely. It’s too much of a coincidence.
But, does Sanchez have such a reach in France?
During the entire ride home, I try to think of a way to tell Scarlett. I dread her bringing it up, asking me what I discovered. She never asks, though, and I never mention it.
Now we are home, and I try to listen to her muffled speech as she talks to me with her head stuffed in my fridge. However, my mind is travelling at a million miles an hour.
I tap my foot against the floor, nerves eating at me at just thinking about telling Scarlett not only about her parents but also Gemma. Then again, is it worth worrying her when I don’t have any indication about what sort of situation her parents are in? It’s completely plausible they just lost their phones and are actually fine … right? Then again, maybe they are already dead.
What are the odds that his men would travel all the way to Europe just to take out a witness’s parents? And, as far as I can see, there is no proof of their possible demise. Wouldn’t the point of kidnapping or harming their parents be to warn Wally off from testifying? How is that supposed to happen when he’s in lockdown?
“You have nothing edible in your fridge. I need to go shopping,” Scarlett announces, her head still buried in my fridge and likely glancing over the shelves full of fruit and veggies, or maybe her eyes are snagged on the fruit in the corner that I’m certain is growing its own ecosystems.
I really need to clean my fridge out.
Since I began getting serious with my training, I tend to keep fresh produce and healthier foods. But I also work enough that cooking is way too much effort. So, a protein smoothie for breakfast, a pre-packed veggie wrap for lunch, and salad and tuna for dinner is about as extreme as I get. But, with everything that has happened with Scarlett over the past few days, I missed my usual shopping day, so my fridge supplies have gotten precariously low.
“Online delivery,” I suggest.
“You do know there is a world outside the internet, right?” Scarlett rebuts with a tinge of humor in her voice.
She used to tease me about how my answers were almost always internet-related. For my birthday, she bought me a card that stated to keep calm and google it. I still have it, even though it’s just a reminder of how sad my next birthday is sure to be.
“I’m not up for shopping tonight. Besides, I think your visit to the coffee shop earlier is enough outside time for you.”
“Gee, a whole fifteen minutes outside the restaurant. Lucky me,” she murmurs, not that she has much heat behind it. “Is there a reason for me to be worried? Have you found anything out about Sanchez or my parents?”
I pause, knowing I need to commit to my answer now.
“I’m still working on your parents, but so far, there isn’t anything suggesting Sanchez or his men are gunning for you or your family. But I do need to tell you something.” My tone likely gives away that I have a confession. Scarlett certainly reads it since she seems to lock up, preparing for the worst.
“Gemma knows about what’s going on,” I rush out, afraid I might chicken out.
“You told her?” Scarlett gasps, her betrayal clear in not only her voice but also her hurt expression.
“Not exactly. Since Gemma has been training me, we have an external storage cloud to pool our information on cases. We’ve worked a few cases alone now, but we still use it. I don’t think either of us thought much of it. So, when I began placing my information on Sanchez in the cloud, she had access to it.” I glance down at my hands, fear of the coming outburst making my voice shake as I keep going. “I’m so sorry, Scarlett. I never intended to betray your trust again. It was an honest mistake.”
I hear her footsteps before I watch her hand cover my own, bringing my gaze up to stare into her eyes.
“I’m not angry,” she assures me. “Does everyone know then?”
“No, I explained that you wanted it kept on the down-low, and Gemma agreed there was no current reason to bring anyone else into this. She’s offered to help.”
“She has?”
“Yes. She’s actually been a huge help already. She followed a few of Sanchez’s men today and logged a couple more vehicles that the CPD hadn’t linked.”
“Why is she helping us?”
I shrug, not entirely sure why Gemma does half the things she does. “I guess she’s maybe bored, or just decided to be helpful this morning when she woke up.”
Scarlett still looks worried.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to apologize again, even though it was an honest mistake and far less awful than the last mistake I made. Still, I feel awful that I let her down. Again.
I should have thought about the storage and that I shared it with Gemma. I should have better protected what I was doing. I had thought about Jerry and made sure I never did anything to flag his attention.
I screwed up again.
“Are you sure Gemma isn’t into you?” Scarlett finally voices. It’s enough to snap me out of my self-crimination.
“Huh?”
“You admitted she kissed you, and now she’s helping you, even though there is nothing in it for her. Why? She’s not really friendly and, given the daggers she sent my way at Sasha and Declan’s wedding, she certainly doesn’t like me.”
“Gemma glares at everyone. It’s like her natural resting face. She can’t help it, I don’t think. And while I know it might sound a little weird said out loud like that, I assure you things aren’t like that at all. Gemma is complicated, and I don’t think anyone will ever know why she does the things she does. She’s so closed off that I’m pretty sure she forces herself to put up with me. As far as I can tell, she doesn’t do friends or relationships. I don’t know why she agreed to help, only that maybe the info I put into the cloud was enough to pique her interest.”
“You sound like you like her,” Scarlett accuses.
“I do like her. But more
than that, I respect her.” Not only for how good she is at her job or how hard she works, but because of all she did to save her sister. Putting your life on hold, putting yourself in danger and never giving up, even when things seem hopeless, all for the love you have for your sister is worth anyone’s respect.
Besides, not everyone fits into a nice pigeonhole. Women are often made to feel like they need to be kind, giving, likeable, acquiescent and, in some cases, docile. Not many of my friends fit those titles. Although, I would argue that in a small way they probably at one point had been them all.
But we all show different sides to different people, and rather than be fake or accommodating for how others feel, Gemma is her own person and unapologetic for it. She would rather you have to compromise how you feel about her rather than compromise herself. There is something awesome about that. She reminds me of Sasha in that way, though those two butt heads the worst.
Scarlett bites her lips enticingly before releasing it. “Okay, but I’m not sure I like it.”
“Her helping out?”
Scarlett nods, but I wonder if it might have more to do with jealousy.
Could Scarlett be jealous of Gemma?
“So, online shopping it is. What site delivers same day?”
I know this is a way to get us onto a different topic, or more likely back to the topic we were supposed to be discussing in the first place, yet I don’t want to push Scarlett. Not tonight.
After our order comes, which Scarlett did by herself, I feel a pang of wistfulness when I see she has ordered all my favorites without me needing to tell her a thing. She doesn’t appear to have forgotten anything either.
Maybe there is hope for us after all?
Chapter 7
“The house was clear; no sign of any ransom demands,” Gemma tells me over the phone.
She was just at Scarlett’s parents’ house to see if something could clue us in as to what happened to them.
Gemma might be helping me investigate this, but I get the feeling, if we don’t have any concrete news by the end of the day, I may need to bring in the others.
I already contacted the American Embassy in France to state my concerns for Scarlett’s parents, and while my profession and the fact that I have a client who feels as though she might be in danger was a concern for them, they stated they will do whatever is in their power within their own connections with the police, since tourists do tend to go off script while on vacation.
With no actual proof of foul play, there might be little to discover.
So not the news I wanted.
“Did you check the mail—”
“Park, I taught you everything you know. So, if you’re asking the question, then it’s because I taught it to you. I know what I’m doing,” she snaps, but I hear no heat under it.
I have spent enough time with Gemma to know when she is truly angry and when she is just feeling impatient. Right now, she’s feeling the latter.
“Okay. Thank you for checking the place out.”
“It’s my job.”
It isn’t a paying job, I want to remind her, but I keep my mouth shut. Gemma clearly wants to pretend like we are just coworkers, but she must like me, even if it is just a little, to be doing this.
A coworker doesn’t take time off to work on an unpaid case.
“Do you think Scarlett and her family are being targeted? I mean, her parents missing right now points to yes, but they’re thousands of miles away. Could Sanchez really have that kind of reach? And why them and not Scarlett?”
“Scarlett is being protected; her parents weren’t,” she points out clinically.
My heart aches at the thought that this points to proving that not only is Scarlett in danger but that her parents might have already fallen victim.
“But with no ransom note and no contact with Wally, how does taking them help Sanchez’s case?”
After alerting the American Embassy in France, my next call was to Detective Tibbett. He didn’t have any updates on whether there was a credible threat on Scarlett, but he did say Wally was planning on testifying and had received no threats to him or his family. Then again, they also decided he didn’t need to know about his parents’ statuses until there was some concrete evidence.
“I don’t know. Sometimes criminals don’t make sense.”
“But this seems extra confusing. Go to all that trouble, spend no doubt a lot more money to do all this in France, just to do nothing with it? To let the trial carry on as is?”
“Park, I don’t know. We’ll figure it out,” Gemma says in irritation.
I wish I could take comfort in her words, especially when I notice two cars crawling past the restaurant.
I check out their license plate numbers and see they are familiar.
“Gem, I just watched two cars go past the restaurant with license plates connected to Sanchez.”
There is a momentary pause before I hear a car door slamming and an engine revving on the other end of the call.
“Shit, get your girl out of there. It might just be a coincidence, or it might be something more.”
“She’s with Nix. Should I get them both out?” I ask breathlessly, already throwing my car door open without checking to see if traffic is coming.
“Yes.”
I don’t wait around to say goodbye. I end the call and race across the busy road until I’m standing in front of the closed restaurant where I bang loudly on the door.
It doesn’t take long before Nix pokes his head out, looking confused, before moving to let me in.
“Cynthia? Is everything okay?”
“I need to see Scarlett,” I demand, my voice coming out in a huff as I try to catch my breath.
“What’s going on?” Scarlett asks, worry making her brow crease and her lips purse.
Just before I blurt out the real situation, I recall Scarlett not wanting Nix to know.
Can I get away with this without putting her life on the line?
I told myself that I would do anything to help keep my promise to her, but that I would break it if it meant keeping her safe and alive. That doesn’t mean I can’t first try to see if I can get around this.
“Sasha organized a surprise birthday drinks thing for Declan. It starts in half an hour. We have to leave now.”
Nix narrows his eyes on me suspiciously, but Scarlett cottons on quickly.
“Oh, right. I forgot about that,” she says, swinging around to grab her coat as well as Nix’s, which are both swung over the bar.
“I don’t remember a surprise drinks thing. Since when?” Nix questions, hesitantly taking his coat that Scarlett thrust at him.
Scarlett rolls her eyes at me, purposefully making sure Nix sees it. “Men,” she says with a shake of her head. “Do they ever remember anything?”
“Just where they can squeeze their dick into,” I retort, earning a surprised laugh from Scarlett and a painful moan from Nix.
“I am going to kill Harvey for not warning me about this.”
I drive them both to a bar far enough away from the restaurant to make me feel a little better, not paying a lick of attention to the restoration talk Nix and Scarlett bicker about the entire time.
When we arrive, I order us all a round of drinks, still feeling antsy about what might be happening. Is this an overreaction or is Scarlett right and someone is coming for her?
“What’s going on?” Scarlett whispers in my ear.
I try to ignore how it feels having her so close and glance back at Nix, watching him talk on his phone. He’s probably calling Harvey and realizing this entire thing is a façade.
“I saw a couple of Sanchez’s vehicles outside the restaurant. It might have been nothing, but Gemma and I both thought it was best to get you out.”
“Shit, do you think they were looking for me?”
“I don’t know. They drove past. I took some photos, so hopefully we’ll be able to identify who was driving. I thought one looked like they were slowing
down, but the traffic was busy, so it was hard to tell if it was intentional or not.”
When our drinks are placed on the bar, she immediately downs her shot in one gulp.
“So, what happens now?” she asks breathlessly.
“Now I need to speak to Detective Tibbett. He needs to be informed about the sighting. And I think there is a good chance you will need to be placed in protective custody.”
“I can’t. I need to—”
“You need to stay alive,” I snap, placing my hand on her shoulder and moving my thumb to caress her neck, something I know she always loved when we were together.
“What the hell is going on here?” Nix interrupts our short moment, staring down at his phone before looking up at us. “I just spoke to Harvey, and he has no idea about any surprise birthday drinks. He mentioned Declan is in back-to-back client meetings, and even if that weren’t the case, his birthday was months ago,” Nix snaps accusingly at me.
I internally wince, realizing I should have chosen a different occasion.
“You know Sasha,” Scarlett speaks up, hopefully about to save my ass. “It isn’t a surprise unless it’s damn well surprising. I bumped into her the other day, and she mentioned it to me, too. I guess this might have been one of her matchmaking attempts, since only me and Cynthia seem to have been informed.”
Nix rolls his eyes, immediately buying the story, if his obvious defeat is anything to go by.
I suppose with Sasha’s weak attempts at making Harvey jealous by throwing Conner at him, it isn’t a stretch to see her doing this. In fact, it’s rather genius.
I squeeze her shoulder one last time before I remove my hand, shifting to hand Nix his drink and giving my own to Scarlett. She seems like she could use it, and I should try to keep a straight head.
“Damn Sasha and her freaking obsessive need to get in everyone else’s business,” he grumbles, taking his drink and throwing it back.
I Blackmailed Her Brother Page 11