Fall: Rise & Fall Duet Book 2 (Shaken 4)

by Grahame Claire

  That was the most he’d spoken to me since we’d found Eric. What little I’d slept, I’d done in his office on the floor by Eric.

  Lincoln was already dressed in a suit, looking like he’d been up for hours even though it was only a little after seven.

  “How were they caught so quickly?” In the heat of the moment, I hadn’t cared about them. Getting Eric back had been the most important thing.

  “I sent Daniel a text about our plan to meet them. He has some contacts with the authorities and they were stationed nearby. When your parents left, I alerted him to have the police move in.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “We didn’t have Eric at that point, and I’d hoped if they were caught, they’d be forced to tell us where he was.”

  “But they didn’t.”

  “They interrogated them the entire time we searched, but no, they wouldn’t talk. Not even for promises they could keep the money.”

  He was back to the emotionless façade, strictly stating the facts. But I heard something in his tone that sounded like regret.

  “You gave them the money?” I’d been so focused on finding Eric, I didn’t know how or why they’d left. Only that after I’d searched the old apartment in the dark, they were gone. I hadn’t thought of the money.

  “No. I abandoned the bag when Donnie had you pinned on the floor. Marlene wielded her gun again and I released him. They grabbed the money and ran.”

  “At least they were caught quickly so you could get it back.” I’d never liked the idea of him sacrificing that much to my parents, though Lincoln had begun to gather the cash from his safe the minute my father told me how much he wanted. I hadn’t had to ask.

  He said nothing in response. Only stared with his hands in his pockets.

  “You did get it back, right?”

  “I imagine the police department will find a good use for it,” he said robotically.

  My brows shot up. “They have to return it.”

  “That isn’t how it works.”

  He’d given up two hundred thousand dollars for my brother and didn’t seem to mind it was just gone.

  “But your assets are frozen.” I hadn’t completely thought through what that meant before, but was pretty sure he was operating on a cash basis. And we’d just taken a big chunk of it.

  “I’ll find a solution.”

  I’ll. Not we’ll. That stung. But it wasn’t exactly like I’d been warm and fuzzy since last night either. Part of me was angry with Lincoln because he’d allowed my parents to kidnap Eric. Whether it was fair or not, somewhere in my mind, I held him responsible.

  And mixed with that fury were the words my dad had said to Lincoln.

  I think the deal has changed. If you brought what I asked, that’s just the down payment. You’re gonna owe me for both of my children. In cash. Every week.

  There was just too much anger swirling within me. And hatred. No doubt Lincoln was well and truly done with us after that stellar introduction to my parents.

  I’d only had the ability to focus on my brother after all the chaos. Now I realized Lincoln wasn’t the only one who’d been silent. I hadn’t intentionally shut him out but recognized that I’d done it. Yet it had been Lincoln’s arms that Eric had first thrown himself into when Cal got him out. He’d thanked Lincoln. For saving him.

  I needed to thank him for helping return Eric safely, yet I couldn’t get the words to come out.

  “I should get back to him.”

  Eric was still sleeping soundly with the dogs protecting him, but this conversation had triggered some realities I needed to process.

  “Is he . . . traumatized?” The question was asked hoarsely. In it, I heard every ounce of how much Lincoln blamed himself and how much he cared for my brother.

  “I don’t think so, but we’re not that far removed from the situation.”

  He nodded once and pivoted toward the front of the apartment. Now we were at no goodbyes either.

  I didn’t move until he disappeared. The front door clicked shut. Muffy raised his head, but when he saw me, put it back down.

  I returned to the chair next to the sofa. Eric’s expression was peaceful and free of worry. I hoped that it would stay that way when he woke.

  I wasn’t sure if I should mention that our parents wouldn’t be coming back. That seemed too good to be true, but I had to trust they’d be locked away for a long time. Otherwise, I’d make myself crazy with worry.

  Not that I wasn’t already.

  Eric was tough. We’d survived the horrors before, but I hoped this experience didn’t bring all the old ones crashing back. If only it had been me they’d kidnapped. I’d have done it a million times over if it kept him from going back to the hell of our childhood.

  I tucked my feet under my legs.

  I’d had an unsettled feeling since we’d returned last night. The brief conversation with Lincoln had helped in some respects and intensified it in others.

  I needed him close by but wanted space to think. To come back to reality. Because we’d been living in a fantasy land for the past few weeks. One that included a penthouse apartment instead of a castle.

  I’d lost focus on what was most important: Eric’s well-being. My wants and needs always came second, at least they were supposed to. I’d let them creep to first because being with Lincoln was like a gift I’d never expected to receive. And he’d been good for my brother too.

  Because I’d wavered from the routine and life we’d built, everything had tilted into chaos. And I wasn’t sure what we had left.

  Tomorrow, we’d planned to move our things out of the old apartment. That was before. I had to figure out if that was best . . . or if Lincoln still wanted us to. Or whether we really needed to go back to our old life. We were no longer in danger from our parents. Maybe we just needed to go home.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Lincoln

  “Someone tipped off the feds about the tax evasion.”

  Zegas cut into his steak and shoved a bite into his mouth.

  I pushed my untouched plate away. “What about the Logans? Are you certain they’ll never be released?”

  He put down his fork. “I can’t promise, but let me put it to you this way. Even the most scumbag lawyer doesn’t want to defend abuse like that. Their public defender isn’t going to put a lot of effort into seeing them go free.”

  The answer was unsatisfactory. I needed a guarantee that Lexie and Eric would never have to deal with them again.

  “Donnie’s dropped the charges against Lexie. The DA isn’t going to pursue it. There will be some hearings and it’ll take time, but those assholes won’t be able to touch them again.” He pushed his vegetables away from the steak as if they were poisonous and cut another piece of meat.

  I hoped that would give Lexie some solace so she could return to life as normal without worrying with the whereabouts of her parents or what they would do next.

  “Did you even hear what I said? About the investigation?”

  “I want you to focus your efforts on Lexie’s case.”

  He dropped his fork with a clatter. “I’ve done what I can for now. She’s good. Now I’m trying to help you out.”

  I traced the edge of the white tablecloth. The gun pointed at Eric’s head yesterday was all I could concentrate on. The hours of agony he’d spent locked in that closet. Thank God the weather hadn’t been too hot.

  You saved me.

  I’d done no such thing. I’d put him in harm’s way. It didn’t matter I hadn’t recognized the threat. He deserved better than that . . . especially from me. They deserved to go back to their normal life. Free of . . . entanglements.

  Zegas pointed his fork at my plate. “Why did you bother ordering if you aren’t going to eat?”

  I shrugged.

  “You know your accountant is Hal Mercer’s son-in-law.”

  Of course I knew who my accountant was. We used David Wolken because of my father’s relationship with Hal. Mercer’s daugh
ter was at the helm of Titan Title beside her father. She was a couple years older than me, and her husband was several years older than she was.

  “Can I at least get a nod or a grunt or something of acknowledgment?” Zegas wiped his mouth with his linen napkin.

  “Did you order for me?” Patrick Whitley slid into the booth next to me and pulled my plate toward him. “Where are we at? Did you tell him that his accountant is the one who tipped off the feds?”

  Zegas glared. “I was getting to that.”

  I should feel something. Anger. Shock. Something. But there was nothing.

  Whitley dove into my steak. “I thought he’d be more excited about this.” He grabbed my water glass. “Are you drinking this?”

  “No.”

  Zegas threw his hands up. “Do you get this? David Wolken has been screwing with your tax returns since you stopped doing business with his daddy-in-law.”

  Finally. Something.

  Irritation.

  That was what I felt. At myself. For not standing up to my father and selecting my own accountant. Doing what pleased him had nearly put me behind bars.

  “Are the returns I have correct? Or the ones he submitted to the government?”

  Whitley focused on inhaling my meal. “That’s where it gets a little hairy.” He took a swig of water. “He fudged the returns he submitted. According to our forensic accountant, the copies you have are the correct figures.”

  “So I defrauded the government without knowing it.” I didn’t know why they were so excited about these developments. I could still end up in a cell.

  “Technically, yes,” Whitley said.

  “But we’ve presented the two sets of returns to the investigators and our source at the IRS. If you pay what you owe once they calculate it and are willing to testify, you’re free and clear.” Zegas grinned. “They’ll even set up a payment plan.”

  “How exactly am I supposed to pay them when my assets are frozen?”

  Whitley jerked his thumb at me. “He is smart.”

  Obviously not that intelligent. I’d ignored my gut instinct in favor of pleasing my father. I’d put Lexie and Eric in a precarious situation.

  “They’d be willing to unfreeze a bank account or two in relatively short order so you can pay them.”

  Wasn’t that just fabulous?

  “Funny how they can freeze those accounts like that.” Whitley snapped his fingers. “But it takes a long time for them to unfreeze them.”

  Naturally. But at least it appeared there was some good news.

  “What about my ability to purchase and sell property?” It was my livelihood. I didn’t know anything else. Other than the custom dog food business. I’d made the deliveries on my own today without incident.

  “Well . . .” Zegas polished off his whiskey.

  “That’s tangled up with this securities fraud mess,” Whitley finished.

  Zegas glared at him for undoubtedly stealing his thunder.

  “I didn’t commit securities fraud,” I said through my teeth.

  Whitley tilted his head toward me. “You really do things by the book.” He spoke with a bit of wonder.

  “Elliott has a guy at the bureau who can hopefully speed this along. It’s going to take some time for them to conduct their own audits, but the evidence in your favor is piling up.” Zegas flagged the server down. “Chocolate pie and another whiskey.”

  “Make that two,” Whitley chimed in.

  The server looked to me and I discreetly shook my head.

  “The big problem now is the titles.” Zegas leaned back, draping his arm over the top of the booth.

  “Andrew Dixon, the real estate attorney, is personally researching each property. That’s not quick work.”

  And it was probably expensive. After the hit I took last night, I needed those accounts unfrozen sooner rather than later.

  “It’s probably going to be tied up in court until kingdom come.” Zegas rolled his eyes. “The good news is you get to keep all of them until a judge says otherwise unless we can prove that the titles are clear.”

  Dread filled me. I didn’t want to be in a years-long court battle. One way or another, I wanted it settled now.

  “Dixon is still working on your apartment. The interesting thing is that guy you bought it from? The one who owed a bunch of money? Did you know he owed it to your father?” Whitley asked.

  Would it be any other way? Everything in my life was twisted around my father.

  “How is that a factor?”

  “We’ll argue that you purchased the title insurance, but if the judge doesn’t agree that’s worth anything, the apartment will likely go to your father since he was the lien holder.”

  Wasn’t that the cherry on top of this mess?

  “We’ve already filed a motion that you’ve been aggrieved. If we look proactive, we believe that will help the case.”

  “So what happens now?”

  “We keep mounting up evidence in your favor. But the good news is, you won’t be behind bars any time soon,” Zegas said.

  Again, nothing. Where was the excitement? The relief?

  “I want David Wolken and Hal Mercer prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.”

  We all turned to find my father standing at the edge of the table. I lifted a brow at Zegas. Had he been speaking to him behind my back?

  But Zegas remained calm and collected. “We’re defense attorneys, Samuel.”

  “And you need to make certain none of this comes to light in reference to my son’s mistakes.”

  Anger bubbled hot and deep. Apparently, I needed my father to feel something.

  “Your son hasn’t done anything wrong in this regard,” Zegas said coolly before I could respond.

  It was odd having someone take up for me against my father.

  Whitley slapped me on the back. “He’s a choir boy. Which makes our jobs a hell of a lot easier.”

  “And I want those who’ve wronged him to pay. Dearly.” Father’s gaze was solely on me when he spoke. Was this his way of saying he was going to make me pay? Time would tell. “Come by my office when you’ve wrapped up here.” It appeared I wouldn’t have to wait that long to learn the cost. “Gentlemen.” He nodded at Zegas and Whitley before he strode off.

  “You know he follows you.” Zegas cut off a bite of pie.

  “I’m aware.”

  “Would you care to do something about it?” Whitley asked.

  Zegas lifted his hands in a what gives motion. “I thought you were out of the law. Or only defending the helpless.”

  “This guy could finance that.” He grinned at me. “Unless they don’t unfreeze his assets.”

  “Are we finished here?”

  “You’re ready to leave?” Whitley asked incredulously. “But we’re having so much fun.”

  “We’ll file suit today against Wolken.” Zegas had a gleam in his eye.

  “It’ll be nice to have a client on the opposite end. Mine are the ones always getting sued.” Whitley demolished the rest of his pie.

  “You got lucky on this one, Hollingsworth.” Zegas dropped his napkin on his empty plate. “Let’s just hope your luck holds out.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Lexie

  “Funny thing happened today.”

  It was almost midnight. I’d been waiting up for hours for Lincoln to arrive.

  He immediately tensed. “Is everything okay?”

  “I called our clients to let them know we wouldn’t be delivering today, and the very first one I spoke to said a nice gentleman had already dropped off Sprocket’s food for the weekend.”

  Silence was his response.

  “I kept calling and getting the same story. What do you know about that?” I craned my neck, waiting impatiently, although I already knew.

  Lincoln had kept up our business when we couldn’t. He’d already been doing it for me all week. But he’d taken the initiative on his own.

  “I hope they were satisf
ied.” There was zero emotion in his tone.

  “Thank you.”

  He looked toward the windows as if the words pained him to hear.

  “For yesterday too.”

  That got his attention.

  His nostrils flared. “Yesterday, I nearly got Eric killed.”

  I shrank back into the sofa. I’d never heard him speak so angrily. I had been so busy worrying over Eric that I hadn’t considered what was going on behind the wall Lincoln had so quickly erected around himself again.

  “You got him back safely,” I said quietly.

  He let out a sharp laugh that was bitter and hollow. “Safely? I’m afraid our definitions of the word are vastly different. Being held at gunpoint and locked in a closet for hours is not safe.”

  Earlier, I’d been quick to blame Lincoln for what had happened, even if I hadn’t expressed that to him. He didn’t need that because he blamed himself enough for both of us.

  “We are in complete agreement on that, Mr. Hollingsworth.” I stood, my temper rising.

  “Excellent. Then I think you’ll agree it’s best he isn’t in my care anymore.”

  Mr. Asshole had returned with a vengeance, making Mr. Stoic look like Mr. Congeniality.

  I marched into his space and looked up at him where he towered over me. “He never was in your care. Mine. Always mine.”

  His gaze hardened. “I couldn’t protect you either.”

  “We don’t need your protection.”

  Just his support and time and . . . him.

  He lifted his hand as if to touch me, then lowered it. “I care for you both. Very much. But I am not what you need.”

  I searched his face. My chest heaved as the words sunk in. He cared for us? He cared for us? Just not enough to stick it out. He’d made me believe we could get through anything.

  “You’re the coward.” I shoved my finger into his chest. “Out of everything I think you are, I didn’t expect that.”