In It For the Money

by Cathy Perkins

  “I think the cops are looking for you, Mikhail Petrov,” she said clearly. “Did you think they wouldn’t look for you at George’s office?”

  That should give whoever was listening enough of a clue for the cops to track her call to Cascade Precision.

  George widened his stance and slammed his fists against his hips. “How could you cheat people you pretended to be friends with? Your business partners?”

  “What’s your problem?” Mikhail shrugged. “We gave jobs to starving kids in Mexico. Besides, people up here want cheap shit. We can’t sell cheap and pay top wages in the US. It all worked out. Even on the circuit. At the events. We made some money. The fans got their wrecks. Everybody was happy.”

  “Including the drivers who got hurt?” she challenged, outraged. “The guy who died? Yeah, I bet he’s real happy.”

  George got in Mikhail’s face. “I think you overlooked a few details. You stole from me and my company. You assisted the cartel in smuggling dangerous drugs—”

  “The DEA made me do that.” Mikhail waved off George’s complaint.

  “Always someone else’s fault, right?” Her contempt showed clearly in her tone.

  “Stay out of this.” He cast another scathing glare.

  She ignored his command to be quiet. “I want to know one thing. Did you send the rabbit and make those calls to me?” Neither Mazur nor his accomplices had admitted to that.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Mikhail turned to George. “Obviously, I can’t continue to do business with you.”

  George’s brows hit his receding hairline. “No kidding. You’ll hear from my lawyer as well as the cops. There are civil issues here in addition to the criminal ones.” George stalked to his desk, dismissing Mikhail.

  “I have immunity.” A nasty smile twisted the other man’s lips.

  She smiled sweetly. “My buddies at the DEA say that’s only for the drugs.” Karma was such a bitch.

  From her position at the conference table, she watched two patrol cars turn into the parking lot. Her smile widened.

  And payback really was sweet.

  ***

  Holly stepped out of George’s office into the sunshine of a bright fall day. For once, she didn’t feel the need to hustle to her next meeting or rush back to the looming piles of work at Desert Accounting.

  She noticed the car before she reached the end of the walkway.

  JC’s car.

  JC’s cop car. He was working.

  The Crown Vic’s window slid down when she reached the parking lot.

  “Hi.” He wasn’t smiling.

  “Hi, yourself.” She moved her briefcase to her other hand, using that as an excuse to shift her weight off her sore leg. “How’d you know I was here?”

  “Tracey.”

  Silently, she shook her head. “Surprised you weren’t listening to the dispatch traffic. Could’ve saved you the trouble.”

  Benton County sheriffs and Richland PD had responded to her 911 call and arrested Mikhail. Hopefully, he’d be denied bail.

  JC drummed his fingers on the car’s window ledge. “We should talk.”

  Understatement much?

  “Yeah. But not here.” Her gaze drifted to the smear of trees on the horizon—White Bluffs and the Columbia River. “You know where the parking lot is for Leslie Grove Park?”

  He nodded.

  “The boat ramp, not the main parking lot. There are benches up there, near the tennis courts.”

  During the week, the place was usually quiet. This late in the fall, it would be deserted.

  He waited until she reached her car—a new-to-her BMW she’d picked up yesterday—then followed her out of the parking lot. She cruised down George Washington Way and turned left onto Snyder. Worried about JC, worried about the upcoming conversation, she barely noticed the smooth handling of the BMW compared to the hated rental car.

  What to do? What to say?

  This week, she’d recognized she was losing the hunger, the edge, that had driven her in Seattle. She liked the Tri-Cities. She wasn’t sure why. She worked ridiculous hours at Desert Accounting for next to no pay. Even when the work was interesting, there wasn’t the adrenaline rush of chasing down a tough deal.

  She’d done what she could for her parents. It was time for them to deal with their own crisis. Neither of them had addressed the underlying issues in their marriage. On the business side, her mother might finally get around to taking the CPA exam. Even if Donna passed, she didn’t have the experience to run the accounting side of the practice. She needed to accept that she should sell Desert Accounting. Her dad needed to get his head out of his ass and find a job.

  And Holly had a life. It was time she got back to it.

  If she passed up the opportunity Ashiro—and Raintree—dangled, she’d give up everything she’d worked for during the past eight years.

  And JC.

  She’d rather be alone than be with someone who didn’t treat her as an equal. Who didn’t respect her or her abilities.

  Who was never there for her.

  She parked and climbed out of the car.

  JC was on the radio in the Crown Vic.

  Even now, he was leaving her waiting while he handled his job.

  One more display of his priorities.

  “Nice car.” He climbed out of the Crown Vic and swept his gaze over the Beemer.

  “I had to turn in the rental.”

  “Bet they were real happy about the bullet holes.” It was his cop voice. Completely cool and detached.

  She lifted one shoulder and turned toward the walking trail. “Not my problem. I didn’t put them there.”

  Side by side, they paced along the path beside the soccer field, not touching. She stopped when she reached the first bench, but didn’t sit down.

  “I saw you there.” His tone was clipped. “At that damned bloody warehouse.”

  Arms folded over her chest, she scanned the tennis court and the open space beyond them. “You have your facts now. You should be happy.”

  “It could’ve been your blood. Not the criminals’. Not Phalen’s. Yours. Don’t you get that?”

  “The thing you never seemed to get is, Tate is my blood. The closest thing I have to a brother.”

  “So, you have to do something stupid like get in the middle of a drug shootout? You could’ve been hurt or killed.”

  Thank God she’d worn black jeans that night. It hadn’t been obvious the leg was sticky and wet with her blood. “I was fine.”

  “I saw you beside the ambulance.” His tone remained harsh. “At least you walked over there more or less under your own power.”

  So, he did know she’d been shot. “Nice of you to check on me.”

  More evidence of his priorities.

  “I didn’t think you wanted me around.” He jammed his hands into his jacket’s pockets.

  So, it was going to be like that. Her fault, of course.

  All he could see was his point of view. That he was right and she was wrong. That she should have done things his way.

  Like that would’ve gotten her anywhere.

  “Why are we having this conversation?” She turned to face him. “You’re pissed I stumbled into a drug bust trying to prove a fraud so you people would actually lift a finger?”

  “You people?” His look was deadly.

  “Yes. You people. I’m so sick and tired of your rules and it always having to be your way. If everything isn’t exactly the way you think law enforcement would do it.” She slashed her hands through the air. “Not acceptable.”

  His hard expression wavered slightly. “That’s not—”

  “What would you have done if I’d come to you with what I suspected?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer. “Oh, right. I did that. And what did you do? Nothing. Not a damned thing.”

  “So, you went to Frank. A guy you told me gave you nightmares.”

  “He used to. He apologized for all that Seattle crap.�
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  JC gave an over-the-top eye roll. “Oh, that makes it okay.”

  She stepped farther away from him. “Frank not only listened and was willing to help, but he—gasp—actually helped.”

  JC scowled. “I help you.”

  “No, you don’t. Every time I gave you information, you brushed it off. When I asked you for help with Mazur, you turned me down flat. You wouldn’t even tell me the DEA were all over his nasty ass.”

  “Because I didn’t want you blundering into the middle of their drug investigation, much less their bust. Because I didn’t want to sit in an emergency room hoping that wound on your leg was only a scratch. Do you have any idea what I went through—finding you at that warehouse? Shot? With Fucking Frank Phalen? What in the hell were you thinking?”

  She glanced at JC and snorted a small laugh. “Seriously? You have a funny way of showing concern. You walked away.”

  “I was angry. Afraid I’d say something I’d regret.” He advanced on her, all barely restrained power and gliding athleticism.

  Hands on her hips, she stood her ground. She’d never worried about physical injury from him. Emotional… That was a different story.

  “Oh. Like, Are you okay? Or, Do you need me? Oh, wait. You never seem to realize I need you. I need you to be there for me.”

  “Like you are for me?”

  She pulled in a deep breath. “That’s our problem in a nutshell.”

  “What is?” His chest rose and fell on sharp inhalations. “I don’t understand a damn thing you’re saying.”

  “Everything you’ve said has been about you,” she returned sadly. “Every argument we’ve had this week has been over your job, your priorities.” Tears threatened, but she blinked them back. “I realized last night at the hospital, I’d rather be alone than with a man who doesn’t make me his priority.”

  His muscles bunched under his jacket, reminding her how powerful he was. “That’s not true. You are—”

  “We’ve had this argument before.” She curled her fingers into fists. “If we were for real—really friends as well as lovers—we could talk about everything. We’d know the truth behind the facade we show most people. With real friends, we see it all—good, bad and really ugly—and guess what? We love them for it—or in spite of it. But it makes them ours. If you don’t open up with the people you say you love, you never connect at the important levels.”

  “What are you saying?” He threw up his hands and turned away. “I need to show you my ugly?”

  “You need to be real with me,” she said. “And you need to see the real me. Quit trying to be Superman and save the world. Unless you can open up, all you’re doing is telling me lies and keeping secrets. Those lies have destroyed what could be good.” She shook her head. “I’m done, JC. I’m going to visit my sister for a few days. Then I’m going back to Seattle.”

  “What?” He spun around and stared at her.

  “And I’ll tell you what I told Mom. Fix your own shit.”

  “Whoa. Wait.” His hands reached out. “You can’t leave… What... What about Tate?”

  “He’s going back to California with Uncle Mark. He and George are working on finding a new distributor. They’ll be fine.”

  “And all those other clients you were always so concerned about?”

  “Rick can handle the practice until Mom sells it. Two big firms are already all over it.”

  JC moved a step closer. “What about me? Us?”

  Finally. The heart of the problem.

  “Is there an us?” she asked quietly. “You never fought for me, JC. Never. Not when we broke up the first time, and not now. That crap with Meredith. I think you wanted an out and you took it.”

  His expression hardened. “I see what you’re doing. You’re running. Just like you did the first time. I don’t see you fighting for me, either.”

  Because he wasn’t looking.

  She’d done nothing but fight for him this whole time.

  Her throat tightened with a strangling squeeze. She swallowed past the painful lump. “I was completely ready to change my entire life for you. The only thing holding me here is you. And you’ve told me over and over again these past weeks I’m just not that important to you.” She took a deep breath. “If you ever decide you want—really want and need me in your life—you know how to find me. Just don’t leave it too late.”

  Then she turned and walked away.

  A Note From the Author

  Thank you for reading In It For The Money!

  If you enjoyed this glimpse into Holly and JC’s continuing story:

  Review it. Tell other readers why you liked this book by reviewing it at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iBooks, or Kobo. Goodreads is another excellent review site.

  Read another one of my books.

  For more information, please go here (https://cperkinswrites.com)

  Want advance notice for my next release? Stop by and sign up for the new release announcement newsletter on my website or Facebook page.

  Thanks for reading!

  Cathy

  Watch for the next book in the series ~ coming soon!

  • Will JC figure out how to get Holly back?

  • What kind of adventure will Holly immerse herself in next?

  • And what’s this about a sister? Hint – it’s Holly’s half sister, Keri Isles

  Books by Cathy Perkins

  The South Carolina Books

  The Professor

  Honor Code

  Cypher

  The Holly Price Mystery Series

  So About the Money

  Malbec Mayhem

  Double Down

  In It For the Money

  Coming soon:

  What shall I call it? Perhaps, Where’s the Money Hidden?

  Look for the next book in the Holly Price Mystery series

  About the Author

  An award-winning author, Cathy Perkins works in the financial industry, where she’s observed the hide-in-plain-sight skills employed by her villains. She writes predominantly financial-based mysteries but enjoys exploring the relationship aspect of her characters’ lives. A member of Sisters in Crime, Romance Writers of America (Kiss of Death chapter) and International Thriller Writers, she is a contributing editor for The Big Thrill, handled the blog and social media for the ITW Debut Authors, and coordinated the prestigious Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Mystery/Suspense for several years.

  When not writing, she can be found doing battle with the beavers over the pond height or setting off on another travel adventure. Born and raised in South Carolina, the setting for Honor Code, The Professor and Cypher, she now lives in Washington State with her husband, children, several dogs and the resident deer herd.

  You can find her on the web at https://cperkinswrites.com or catch her hanging out at Facebook and Twitter.

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