I just have one condition.
I need guarantees, written assurances that the name of the woman I bought using that million-dollar cheque won't get dragged into the spotlight of this scandal. I won’t have Eva’s reputation tarnished by this shit.
She has her whole life ahead of her. She has dreams. She wants to sell pretty bracelets and she wants to travel the world and she wants to teach little old ladies about crafting jewelry. That’s beautiful. I’ll do whatever is necessary to protect her from exposure. Even if that means going to jail myself. So, until I get some sort of written guarantees for Eva, I’m not saying a word to these investigators.
On their end, they’re resistant to giving immunity because if they promise not to expose Eva, they may be impeded in their ability to collect evidence for their case. They’re afraid that they won’t be able to prove wrongdoing without her involvement.
Of course, Daniel is sweating in his designer loafers. He keeps reminding me that if the investigators find another credible lead before I cut a deal with them, I’ll become expendable and they won’t need me anymore. At that point, they’ll prosecute me without batting an eye. But that’s a risk I have to take.
Bring it on, motherfuckers!
The man sitting across the table from me is losing his patience. He runs his handkerchief over his shiny bald spot and levels me with a glare. “Mr. Silver, you’re running out of time. Unless you want us to escalate our measures against you, you’d better start talking now.” He roughly shoves the dirty cloth into the inner pocket of his cheap suit jacket.
He thinks I give a shit what happens to me? I lean across the table and glower at him. “Escalate away, you fucking piece of –”
“Mr. Silver!” Daniel hisses through clenched teeth.
I lean back in my tufted leather chair and stare up at the tiled ceiling, trying to come up with an alternative – a way to get the FBI off my back and be with Eva again. I draw a blank.
This shit sucks. I’ve been away from her for a month. I cut off all contact with her. Daniel says that the feds may have tapped my phones and any communication with her could lead them straight to her front door. Then all that I’ve done to protect her would have been for nothing. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but if I never see her again, I can live with that as long as she’s protected from this mess.
This shit sucks!
What do they call this feeling? Is this what heartbreak feels like?
When Diane and I got divorced, I felt numb for a few days and then, I grew indifferent. Sure, it hurt to end my union with the person I swore I’d cherish till death do us part but what bothered me even more was losing a sizeable chunk of my net worth to accommodate her lavish lifestyle.
Losing my Kitten is different. It literally feels like I lost an internal organ. Like my body is operating without a vital biological structure. There’s a gaping hole in my chest and I’m bleeding out into my chest cavity. My heart is gone. That’s what it fucking feels like.
It feels wrong. It feels dangerous. Like I could break down at any given moment. Like I could die.
Damn it, Eva...I didn't even realize I had a heart until it was breaking from missing her so much. But what I feel, what I want doesn’t matter.
Daniel clears his throat, bringing the attention back to him. “My client has already stated his conditions. Unless you’re prepared to meet them, then this conversation will be over and I’ll be forced to take this matter to the Department of Justice because your behaviour over the past several weeks is bordering on harassment.”
The agents share a look. The younger one swallows hard, his composure wavering. I laugh on the inside.
We don’t have a harassment case. Daniel’s bluffing but his poker face is strong.
My poker face ain’t bad either, I guess. No one seems to notice how much of a mess I am inside. I’ve been away from Eva for far too long. I want to get back to her. I want to hold her in my arms. I want to talk to her and make her understand why I left that hotel room that day without an explanation. And I want to spend the rest of my life making it up to her.
But I have to keep my distance.
The phone at the end of the conference table rings, but I ignore it. I’m busy. I’m in the middle of a standoff with two hounds of the state, for crying out loud.
It rings and rings, droning on and on and on. When it finally stops, I think to myself that my administrative assistant has finally gotten the message, but instead, there’s now a knock at the door. A persistent knock.
Huffing, I push away from the table and stand. “Excuse me, gentlemen. I have a new secretary and she doesn’t seem to understand the meaning of ‘hold my calls’.”
I yank the door open and come face to face with Jane. Or is it Jenny? No, it’s Jane, I think. I can’t quite remember her name. All I know is I don’t like her. She’s too perky, too excitable. I resolve right then to fire her as soon as this meeting is over.
Standing in the doorframe, I glower down at her. “I told you not to interrupt me,” I say between gritted teeth.
Instead of looking intimidated, she sort of just rolls her eyes. She’s obviously not smart enough to be intimidated by my glare. Insubordination is an infection. If you don’t nip it in the bud, it spreads. And I won’t have it contaminating my organization.
The girl’s fingers dig into my arm and she drags me into the hallway, speaking in a low volume. “Sir, there’s a Paul Jones on the line.” She says the name like it should ring a bell. She balances on the heels of stilettoes and waits for my reaction.
“Who the fuck is Paul Jones?” I growl, even more irritated.
She gives me a conspiratorial look. “He says he’s a private investigator.” She peeks down at the notepad in her hands. “He’s been keeping an eye on Simon Leroux.”
Shit!
My blood runs cold and my head goes light. Still my feet are steady as I stomp down the hall to her desk and snatch the phone out of its cradle. “This is Silver,” I say as I shoo Joanie away with my hand. She takes the hint and quickly disappears down the hallway.
“Mr. Silver, this is Paul Jones – the private investigator you hired to keep tabs on Simon Leroux.”
“Yes, yes,” I say impatiently. Even though he can’t see me, I gesture with my hand for him to move this conversation along. “Is something going on?”
“Leroux is on the move, Sir." I grip the lip of the desk at this news. "He just bought a bus ticket to Reyfield, Illinois.”
My heart rate spikes. “Don’t you let that fucker out of your sight, you hear me?” I slam down the phone and hurry back to the conference room. Without explanation, I grab my suit coat and head for the door.
The investigators eye me. “Where are you going? We’re in the middle of a meeting!”
“If you want to solve your case as much as you say you do, you’ll follow me.”
“Where are we going?”
“Reyfield, Illinois.”
Chapter 41
Evangeline
So, I probably shouldn't have spent the money.
I should have returned it to Raphael. It’s dirty money tied to the most depressing period of my life, a period I want to forget. So returning it would have been the dignified thing to do, the way to end things with finality and find closure. The way to move on. But that man broke my heart, dammit. It's only fair that I have something to show for it.
A return on investment, as he would say.
Besides, the last few weeks have been hell. My only reprieve has been my workshops with the seniors at the community center. It was the only thing keeping me sane.
A little smile sneaks onto my face as I pivot slowly, taking in the room around me. To anyone else, it probably looks like a barren showroom with empty shelves, tables and display cases. But I see it for more than it is right this minute. I see it for what it will become once I receive the first shipment of stock, once the first customers walk through the doors, once I set up the first jewelry
-making workshop. I see the one-of-a-kind handcrafted pieces draped on the mannequins. I see the artisan jewelry from all corners of the world sitting next to each other in the display cases.
I see my biggest dream finally coming to life in vivid color.
This place is starting to come together bit by bit. Prescott helped with painting the other day. Annaleigh and Blakely went furniture shopping with me earlier this morning. I’ve already started setting up the workshop area in the corner of the room.
So, I probably shouldn't have spent the money but frankly, I don’t regret that I did.
My very own boutique bringing my favorite eclectic handmade jewelry from around the world to the Illinois suburbs…
Raphael gave me the confidence to do this. He propped me up when I was too feeble to believe in my dreams. I just wish that he was here to see me now, to see that I actually put actions behind my words. I wonder if that would be enough to convince him that I’m not just some troublesome little girl. I’m a woman. A woman who can stand by his side.
I pull in a deep breath because I don’t want to go down that rabbit hole again. It hurts too much.
I was in love with Raphael Silver. I still am. But, he just disappeared. Yes – I’m his best friend’s daughter, but I’m not a child. I know what I want. I just wish that he was man enough to give it to me.
My relationship with my father has been strained since the day my parents walked into Raphael’s hotel room. My mother has tried to reach out to me, leaving a string of tearful messages on my phone. Deep down, I knew that she’d come around once the shock wore off. She’s a pretty open-minded person. But there’s been radio silence from my father. I can’t say that I’m surprised. Bob Brooks’ ego is a monster of epic proportions.
Sighing, I pick up a rag and a bottle of window cleaner and attack one of the dusty display cases. The bangles from India would look amazing here, right next to the cash register. I make a mental note to also follow up with that designer just outside of Paris, the one who makes those skinny leather wrist belts with the rhinestone buckles. I already have a few potential customers in mind who would love –
“Hello Eva…”
The rag slips from my hand and I feel a chill run through my bones. I turn around slowly and he’s standing there.
“Simon…” My hands go cold. So cold. And sweaty. And my heartbeat booms in my ears. “What are you doing here?” I manage to squeak out just before my throat closes down completely. Didn’t I lock the door when Annaleigh and Blakely left earlier?
A vile grin spreads across his face. “I was just in the neighborhood,” he says, trying to act casual, “I told you I’d drop in to collect what you owe me.” He approaches slowly, menacingly.
I back away, eyes darting around for a makeshift weapon. “I–I don’t have the money.” Now, I’m having second thoughts about my little investment. Raphael promised that he’d take care of Simon. I’d all but put this whole situation out of my mind because I trusted that it had been handled. Now, I see that, like all things even tangentially related to Raphael, I was naïve.
Simon clucks his tongue. “Well, I suspected as much. I see you’ve got yourself this fucking rat-hole.” He waves around uninterestedly at my studio. “What exactly do you plan on doing with this dump anyway?”
I ignore his question. I’m not intent on making small talk with him. “You should leave.” I hate the slight waver in my voice. I pray silently that he doesn’t hear it.
He runs his thumb along my bottom lip. “Baby, I’m not leaving until I get paid.” He leans in, letting his tongue swipe the lobe of my ear. “Either in cash or in ass. You choose the currency.”
Hell to the no!
I’m not gonna just stand here and let this grubby creature put his hands and his tongue and god know what else on me. I’m fighting back!
I duck out of his reach and grab the glass cleaner. Before he can do anything, I spritz it straight into his eyes. He doubles over and howls in shock or in pain, I’m not sure. All I know is I have to get out of here.
I pick up one of the glass display cases and smash it over his head to buy some more time. I make a mad dash for the front door and twist the knob while he tries to recover. I yank the door open and go smack dab into a rock hard chest.
Chapter 42
Raphael
Eva falls flat on her ass, cowering and covering her face as she screams at the top of her lungs. I drop down in front of her, grabbing her wrists. “Evangeline!”
Her head shoots up and her blue-green eyes go wide. She whispers my name in disbelief. “Raphael…”
God, she’s beautiful. Gorgeous. I crouch down in front of her and take her face in my hands. “I’m here, Kitten. You’re safe. You’re with me.”
She collapses against my chest, her arms wrapping so tight around me. “Raph…” She breathes out my name and it’s like a balm to my bruised insides. I plant kisses in her hair, stroke my fingers along her spine, whispering sweet, comforting words to her.
Eva’s in my arms again. It’s everything that’s good in this world. I finally feel good again. Like I got all my broken pieces put back together.
A groan from the other side of the room steals my attention.
Oh right, that guy…
He’s gonna get it. Daring to put his hands on my Eva.
Releasing her, I rise to my feet. I already feel less steady without the heat of her body. But I’m fuelled by rage and the need for revenge.
I lean over and grab the bastard by the collar dragging him roughly across the floor. He’s a lanky, waiflike thing. He tries to reason with me right before my fist comes down on his cheek. So hard that his head snaps. I go at him again and again and again.
All my rage comes spilling out. I was trying to be diplomatic about this, taking the legal channels, getting restraining orders and hiring private investigators. But now he's standing here, in Eva’s shop and I give zero fucks about the law.
I faintly register Eva’s voice in the background telling me that that’s enough, telling me to stop but I’m blinded and deafened by my rage.
Eventually, I hear the sirens, though. I managed to shake my FBI buddies off of my trail for a while. They had to deal with certain protocols to ensure that Simon’s arrest is legal and that the evidence they collect from him is admissible in court. I didn’t have time to wait on the law. All I cared about was saving my girl.
I drop Simon’ pathetic body to the floor and he lies there in a bloody heap. He’s not going anywhere.
Eva rushes up behind me and her arms circle me. “Thank you, Raph,” she says with a tremble to her voice. I pull her to my chest. She looks up at me with wet eyes.
I kiss her. I kiss her because she’s my world.
The agents sweep in through the front door, guns drawn, handcuffs at the ready. I breathe a sigh of relief. “This nightmare is over, baby. That bastard’s going to jail.” My mind goes to Club Audace and the skeezes who work there. “And he’s taking all his friends with him.”
Chapter 43
Evangeline
I'm curled up on the little upholstered couch in Raphael's hotel room. My heart is trying to break free of the restraint of my ribcage. I wait with tense anticipation for his words, still shaking ever-so-slightly from the shock of it all. I can't believe that Simon was at my shop tonight. He was there to hurt me. Then Raph swooped in out of nowhere, like my white knight, my hero, my prince charming.
Again.
He saved me again.
"Are you okay?" he asks as he sits right next to me on the couch, near enough that our legs are touching.
I nod and he takes my hand in his, lacing our fingers together. "You got there right in time," I whisper hoarsely.
"None of that should have happened. I should have stopped him sooner. I don't know what I would have done if he had hurt you."
Raphael leans closer, his soft, full lips coming in search of mine. My mouth tingles at the warmth of his breath skirting over my skin. I
ache to taste him. It's been so long.
But I pull away. As painful as it is.
I need answers. My heart is still mangled and patched together with bandages. It won't survive another blow so before I let this man – who I'm so in love with – kiss me again, I need answers.
"Raph – what happened that day when I went out to get the first aid kit? Why did you just leave? Why didn't you wait for me?"
His eyes go dark and I can see the pain in his expression. "I didn't have a choice, Eva. I had to leave."
"With those businessmen? A business deal was so important that you couldn't even say goodbye?" My tone is bitter. I'm bitter. I think I have every right to be.
Dirty Silver (The Dirty Suburbs Book 7) Page 19