by Lisa G Riley
Kyle frowned. “I assume you set the trust up the way you did to make theft difficult.”
“Exactly.” His hands were on his hips, his stance still confrontational. He narrowed his eyes as he thought it through. “Terrence left his wife a lot of money. That much money can tempt a lot of people to do wrong. Apparently the temptation was too great for someone to resist. Damn!” he said in disgust. “I forgot about Ranya DuBois. She’s the firm accountant. Okay,” he muttered as he paced away from the desk. “This isn’t insurmountable. I can fix this.”
Kyle hitched one half of his butt on the desk and picked up a framed photo of Kendra. He smiled at her huge grin and serious eyes. “How do you plan to find out which one did it?”
“It could have been any one of them. The only reason I called Pete is because he’s the manager, but now I realize I was lucky he wasn’t in. If he’s the one stealing, I would have tipped him off. It’s the same with all of them. I can’t discuss it with them, but they’re the logical ones to discuss it with in order to root out the thief.”
“‘Ah, there’s the rub,’” Kyle said dramatically.
Sloan gave him a look of cool disinterest. “Gee, William fucking Shakespeare, you think you could refrain from soliloquies while I think this through?”
“So what’s your next step, then?”
“Well, first and foremost, I have to tell the client.” Sloan thought of Mrs. Patterson, a sweet and feisty seventy-six-year-old who always had homemade brownies or cookies for him when she came to the office. “Man, whoever this asshole is, I’m going to kill him.”
“Or her,” Kyle reminded him.
“Or her,” Sloan acknowledged. “The thing is, Kyle, I can’t imagine any one of them doing it. All of them except Ranya and Patrick have been with me since my first big success. We’re all friends,” he finished simply.
“You probably shouldn’t take it personally,” Kyle began but paused when Sloan shot him a look of pure disbelief. “Just listen to what I’m saying. Whoever took the money probably didn’t even think about you when they did it. Maybe they have a sick relative or a gambling problem, or hell, I don’t know,” he said, “maybe they just wanted it because it was there. All I’m saying is that I’m sure the motive for taking the money was purely selfish.”
“This is my firm, Kyle. Mine. You fuck with my firm, you fuck with me. There’s no difference.” It was as simple and elemental as that.
Kyle said nothing.
“Ah well,” Sloan began after a moment of reflective silence, “whoever did it is going to feel the wrath of Sloan.” It was a joke from their childhood. Joke or not, Sloan was ready to make all hell break loose.
Kyle went along with the joke. “Wedgie included?” he asked hopefully.
Sloan quirked a brow but simply couldn’t stretch his humor that far. “Damn it! I worked hard to build this place up, and I’m not about to let some two-bit thief screw things up!”
Eager to get out on his own, he’d started his firm at the age of thirty-one. He’d figured that the only person he should be working so hard for was himself, and he’d made the plunge. He hadn’t looked back. His firm’s four-year anniversary was approaching, and they were doing well. He’d hired four other lawyers within a year of starting out and in the past couple of years had hired five more.
“Just how long have they been stealing and how much have they taken?”
Sloan heard Kyle’s question as if it had come from the end of a long tunnel. The anger he felt was almost suffocating him. He rubbed his hand across his eyes and concentrated on answering. “That’s another thing. Whoever’s doing it would have needed my signature. The monthly allowance to Mrs. Patterson is static, and I have to approve any increases. So the thief has been forging my signature.”
When the impact of what he said registered and left his normally talkative brother speechless with his mouth open, Sloan couldn’t resist. “‘Holy illegal, Batman!’” he drawled. “What do we do now?”
Kyle laughed sheepishly. “Where’s Commissioner Gordon when you need him, right?” Soberly, he said, “But seriously, Sloan, this is now officially beyond ugly.”
Sloan heartily agreed. By signing his name, the thief had ensured that Sloan would be the first one suspected.
Chapter Seven
“Just how mad are Mom and Dad?” Kyle asked Sloan later as they walked onto the porch of their parents’ suburban home. He pressed the doorbell.
“Well, let’s see. You disappeared for months without telling anyone where you were going, and then you didn’t call to let us know you’re okay. Ah,” he said dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure they’re just mildly irritated.”
Kyle apparently didn’t appreciate the sarcasm. “I told you where I was,” Kyle reminded him.
“Right. You sent a cashier’s check in the mail and a note saying you were off to greener pastures. The postmark on the envelope read Las Vegas. I had no idea where you were after that.”
“Guess I got some explaining to do.”
“Yes, you do, Lucy.”
“Smart a—Hello, Ma.” He suddenly found himself facing Mary Johnson, who’d pulled the door open. He smiled. “It’s the prodigal—but favorite—son come to call. You don’t have to settle for second best anymore. I’m here now!” He watched as her lips twitched and her eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry, Mom,” he said and bent to pick her up in a hug. “I really am. Don’t cry.”
Relieved to have something that would take his mind off his own problem, if only briefly, Sloan herded them into the house. He saw that his father and sister were waiting and walked over to them. “Hey, Dad. Amy.” Bending, he kissed Amy on the cheek and watched as his mother cried and scolded Kyle at the same time.
“Ooh, I hope she lets the little jerk have it,” Amy whispered vehemently, but there were tears in her eyes too.
Carson Johnson walked over and gently pulled his wife from Kyle’s arms. “Where have you been, Son?”
“That’s it?” Amy asked as she strode over. “All he’s going to get is that wimpy question? I have five years of seniority on him. Let me, Dad. Kyle Eric Johnson. Where the hell have you been keeping your sorry, no-account, worthless, irresponsible ass all this time? Couldn’t you pick up the phone and call at least one of us to let us know that you were alive?”
Kyle looked down at his sister. Catching the finger that she’d been wagging in his face, he pulled her into his arms and looked over at his mother. “Are you going to let her use that kind of language in this house? I’m shocked.”
“Come into the kitchen,” their mother said over the laughter. “And you’re lucky that’s all she said. If I weren’t so emotional right now, I’d get your brother and your dad to hold you down while I walloped your behind. You come in here and get ready to explain yourself.”
Sloan studied Kyle’s face. He noticed, as he’d noticed the night before, that his brother looked harder and tougher. And even though Kyle laughed and joked like he’d always done, Sloan knew that Kyle had changed in the nine months he’d been gone. Even as he watched, Kyle tensed as if readying himself for something. And Sloan knew that whatever had kept Kyle from calling or coming home for all those months was something his parents didn’t need—or weren’t ready—to hear.
He stepped forward. “Hey! What about me? Don’t I get some love? I’ve been gone for three weeks. Where’s my hug? Did you break out the fatted calf? Where’s the champagne?” he asked and hugged his mother as she apologized. “It’s okay. To make up for it, you can talk to Kendra for me.”
“Talk to her about what, dear?”
Mentally he apologized to Kendra for what he was about to do. “You’re not going to believe it, but she thinks that maybe we should get married at city hall,” he lied. “She says the expense and stress of a big wedding don’t seem to be worth the heartache.” His family was Catholic, as was Kendra. He winced as three voices started shouting questions at him at once. He looked over at Kyle, who wa
s staring at him speculatively. You owe me, Sloan mouthed and let himself be ushered into the kitchen.
“All right. Let’s hear it,” Sloan said to Kyle as they sat in their parents’ backyard at an old picnic table. A lunch of sandwiches and fruit had gone well as they’d discussed everything from Amy’s children to Kyle’s new project to Kendra’s suddenly and inexplicably turning heretic on them. Sloan felt like they’d gotten a reprieve when Mary and Carson had decided to start dinner and Amy had gotten a call from her fourteen-year-old daughter. “Where were you after you left Vegas, and what happened while you were there?”
He could tell Kyle was trying to make up his mind about something. “Okay, you don’t have to tell me,” Sloan capitulated after Kyle had been quiet for so long. “Just tell me if you’re in any kind of danger.”
“No, not right now. I was before, but I’m not right now. I’ve been told not to tell, but there’s really no one I trust more than you. On the other hand, telling you might put you in danger, but if something happens to me…”
Sloan sighed impatiently. “Just tell me what you want me to know, and we’ll leave it at that. There’s no time for all this cryptic bullshit. Mom, Dad, and Amy will only stay inside for so long before they come out here, especially Amy. You know how she is.” He narrowed his eyes against a gust of wind blowing in his direction. “Look, I’ve thrown Kendra to the wolves, toothless as they are, for you. Tell me why I did that, and hurry up, because I’ve got to call her and warn her before she gets here for dinner.”
Kyle snorted. “You’ve got to invite her to dinner first. Good thing you were able to talk Mom into letting the conversation to save Kendra’s soul wait until then. Kendra’s going to kill you, isn’t she?” he joked. Sloan would suffer for that lie; no doubt about it.
Sloan frowned. “Just tell me what’s going on and stop stalling.”
Tense again, Kyle began his story. “After I left here, I decided to head to Vegas to try my luck at the tables there. Things went well for a while, which is how I was able to wire you and Kendra your money back. But my luck soured after about a month, so I went to Tahoe, where my luck changed again. I was doing so well that people began to notice—the wrong kind of people. This guy named Cassius Sherman and a few of his friends started hanging around watching me play. You know me, I’m a pretty good judge of character, and I don’t make waves. I didn’t know them well, but I knew that they weren’t what you would call model citizens.”
“Just how unmodel-like were they?”
Kyle shook his head. “Cassius and his crew are into everything from loan sharking to drug dealing to – well, just everything. Anyway, I was just hanging with Cassius’s brother, Tom, just a harmless kid who thought I was cool because I was on a winning streak. I won’t lie and say it wasn’t an ego stroke, but I also thought I could help Tom. He’s twenty-five but acts and thinks like someone much younger. I figured the more he hung out with me, the less likely it was that he’d get caught up in his brother’s crap.”
“What else?”
“Well, one night I got in on this poker game. The good luck I’d had since I’d come to Tahoe was still holding, and I won the whole pot.” He grinned. “Eighty thousand big ones.”
“What happened?” There was always more whenever Kyle was involved.
“I was accused of cheating by another player.”
“Did you cheat?” Sloan didn’t feel guilty for asking. He’d known his brother to cheat more than once.
Kyle’s grin was unashamed. “Nope, not this time.”
Helplessly Sloan grinned back. “Bullshit.”
Kyle’s laughter filled the yard. “I haven’t cheated since we were kids, Sloan, and I only did that because I hated losing to you.”
“So what happened to the eighty thousand? Do you still have it?”
“Yeah, I do. Cassius had made the other player back off about the cheating, and then he asked me if I’d like to make a little investment, so to speak. He said I’d double or even triple my money. I told him no, of course. I plan to take that money, make some more from it, and finance my new company. You see, there’s another poker game coming up soon. The pot is at least two hundred grand. Needless to say, Cassius didn’t like my answer, but he’ll get over it. Anyway, here I am. I thought I’d let the heat die down before going back for the game.”
Sloan studied him. “There’s more to it.”
“I’m getting to that part. Right after I won, this FBI agent approached me, Special Agent Sexy Ass.” He stopped and looked off into the distance for a few seconds before shaking his head and giving a brief whistle. “God, it’s unbelievable how hot she is.”
Sloan could only roll his eyes at his brother’s one-track mind. “But you digress…”
“Yeah, but man, if you could only see her. She’s tall and just so damned stacked—” Sloan threw him a look suggesting he could and would do him bodily harm. “All right, all right; I’ll bottom line it. Besides all the other crap they’re into, the FBI thinks Cassius and his crew are also into teenage trafficking—kidnapping girls and forcing them into prostitution. Special Agent Sexy Ass, or, SASA, wants me to use Tom and get closer to him so that I can get close to his brother.
“I turned them down at first because as bad as they are, loan sharking and drug dealing just aren’t enough for me to use Tom like that. I’m just not that civic-minded. It was the teen trafficking that got to me enough to make me tell her I’d think about it. So basically, the FBI wants me to become a snitch, or as it’s more professionally termed, a confidential informant.”
“They actually want you to put yourself in danger like that?”
“The way they look at it, I’m already in. I just need to go deeper.”
“Are you going to do it?”
“Yeah, probably. I really just want to make SASA sweat a little bit.”
Sloan snorted. “Bet she just loves when you objectify her like that.”
Kyle flashed a guilty smile. “Think I’d be crazy enough to say it in front of her? And I know it’s bad, but I just can’t help it. Anyway, I came home to think about it some more, and I made those business appointments too.”
“What about the wedding?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be here for it. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“You know as my best man that you’re responsible for throwing me a bachelor party, right?”
“Hell yes,” Kyle confirmed enthusiastically. “Want strippers? How about a club with exotic dancers? Whatever you want, it’s yours.”
“I don’t know about all that. You, Connor, beer, maybe some tacos and Buffalo wings, a game on the TV, and I’m good. You could invite other friends too.”
“Just you, me, some damned chicken, and Connor Chang?” Kyle asked in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me? The only good thing about that scenario is that with Connor there, there’ll be twice the women interested as there would be if we were alone. I know a lot of them would probably be get-it girls, but still, you’d better leave the party planning to me.”
Sloan thought about asking what the hell a get-it girl was, changed his mind because the answer would probably be too juvenile, shrugged his shoulders disinterestedly, and brought the conversation back to the issue uppermost in his mind. “What aren’t you telling me about this whole Tahoe thing?”
“I was just thinking about Tom. He’s been stealing money from his brother to gamble. So far he’s won enough to put it back, but I’m looking ahead to the day he doesn’t win. Cassius, brother or not, will at the very least probably put him in the hospital. Tom is kind of slow, you know?”
“The only thing you can do is try to be there for him when it all blows up, I guess. I assume you tried to convince him to stop stealing, but he won’t listen.”
“Yeah,” Kyle said tiredly. “Anyway, thanks for that save earlier. I didn’t want to tell Mom and Dad.”
“It’s okay. I could tell you didn’t. All right,” Sloan said as he stood. “I’d be
tter call Kendra and let her know what to expect.”
*
“Ouch!” Sloan protested when Kendra slugged him in the arm as they were walking into the apartment. He didn’t ask why. He turned and locked the door.
“That was because I couldn’t do it at your parents’ house or in the car unless I wanted to cause an accident,” Kendra said over her shoulder as she walked toward the staircase. “And there were too many damned people in the elevator, so I couldn’t do it there either.”
Once in their bedroom, she continued her rant as she pulled the pins from her hair and tossed them onto her vanity. “I can’t believe you told that lie about me.” Automatically she held out her arm in a silent request for Sloan to unclasp her bracelet. “Your parents were practically threatening an exorcism!” she muttered when he was finished, and stepped out of her shoes as she took off her suit jacket.
Sloan winced when she tossed the jacket on a chair and started unbuttoning her blouse. She was really pissed. She was a neat freak and always hung her suits up as soon as she took them off. Still, he didn’t apologize. Waiting her out, he sat on the bed and pulled off his shoes, watching as she stripped out of her skirt, garter, and thigh highs. She wore nothing but a thong and matching bra. When she bent at the waist to shake her hair out, he suppressed a groan and wondered if this was to be her punishment for him—wondered if she was deliberately turning him on so she could shut him down when he tried to consummate. He stood and walked over to her to take her by the shoulders.
“I’m sorry, Ken.” He looked down into her face. “I’ve already apologized, and I shouldn’t have lied in the first place. I had a good reason. You already know part of it, and now I can tell you the rest.” When he’d called her to warn her, he’d only told her that he’d lied to keep from telling his parents what had happened to Kyle. “I really am sorry, sweetheart. I did tell them that it wasn’t true, though. You heard me.”