“Tell me what you’ve got.”
“Meet me in person in thirty minutes. There’s a diner off the highway. It’s busy enough, but far enough away too.”
Morris gave me the address, and I repeated it. When I hung up, I headed over to the happy couple and dropped a hand on Sophie’s shoulder. “Hey, I need to take off, but I’m all set on what I need to do for the ceremony.”
“What’s going on? Client stuff on a Saturday?” Ryan asked, his brow knitting.
I cut off his concern. “Nothing work-related. Just something I need to do.”
I didn’t want to say anything in front of Sophie. Not that I was worried it would get back to John, but the fewer people who knew about my own investigation, the better chance I had of gaining information. I’d learned that over the years in this business.
“Fine, fine. Just take off,” Sophie said with a pout, shooing me away. “We were going to invite you to get a bite to eat, but now we won’t.”
I smiled and pressed my palms together as if in prayer. “Rain check?”
She waved a hand as if wiping away my transgression. “You are forgiven. Oh, wait. Are you going to bring Annalise to the wedding?”
That hadn’t even occurred to me. “I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it.”
“Think about it. It would be so nice.”
It would but instead of lingering on that idea, I shifted my attention to Ryan. “I don’t believe I’ve even said much about Annalise, and now you’re telling Sophie to invite her to the wedding?”
Ryan shrugged. “You don’t have to say much. Your constant texting, emailing, and Skyping says it for you. Oh, and the fact that you were madly in love with her in high school.”
I shook my head. “I seriously need to go.”
“Bring her,” Sophie called out as I turned on my heel.
“It’s more than a month away,” I shouted back.
“Invite her now. Gives her time to plan!”
I laughed once more, not giving anything away. But as I headed to the parking garage, I found myself considering it further. If we were really doing this long-distance thing, and it seemed we were, why not bring her to my brother’s wedding? We’d already been tossing out options for my first trip to see her in a week or so. Maybe we could plan the next one too.
For now, though, I shifted gears, calling Mindy and picking her up along the way.
“My fingers are crossed for big news,” I said as I held open the car door for my friend.
She wrapped her index and middle fingers together. “Me too.”
At the diner, Morris was working his way through a mug of coffee when I slid across from him, shaking his hand in greeting. Mindy said hello too, and sat next to me. Fifties music played on the sound system, and waitresses took orders decked out in pink diner uniforms.
“This place has great fries. You should get some,” Morris said, sliding a well-worn menu to the two of us before scrubbing a hand across his jaw.
“Far be it from me to refuse great fries. Want to split a plate, Mindy?”
The blonde nodded. “That I do.”
After we ordered, I raised my chin. “So, what have we got?”
Morris took a deep breath, dipped a hand into his messenger bag, and pulled out a manila folder. It was so old-school, and I kind of loved the Philip Marlowe vibe. The guy just needed a fedora to finish the look.
Taking his time, he flipped open the folder and stabbed his finger against a photograph. It was upside-down, but I could tell what it was. I glanced at Mindy then at Morris, then leaned closer to study the picture, my muscles coiled, tension threaded tightly inside me. “The piano shop? The place where he buys sheet music?” I asked in a hushed tone.
Morris nodded.
“Okay. What of it?” Mindy asked.
Morris raised both eyebrows. “I’ve been casing it. And our target. All day long. All night long. Stuff cops don’t have the manpower or resources to do.”
“And?”
“There’s a lot more that goes on in the back of the store than sheet music.”
I swallowed. “Like what?” I asked, so fucking eager for information.
“It’s where the Royal Sinners fence all their stolen goods. It’s their goddamn fucking headquarters. Everything runs through there. Electronics, phones, watches, all sorts of stolen shit. As well as guns. They’ve got themselves a huge illegal gun sales operation they’re running from this joint.” He lowered his voice even more, licked his lips, then made his pronouncement. “Bust out the big guns—you’ve got your man.”
Time froze . . . then sped up. My fingertips tingled, and the possibility of justice tore through me. A smile spread across my face, morphing into a thrilled grin. I looked at Mindy, and she beamed too. We raised our hands, smacked palms, and treated Morris to a cheeseburger and the best fries in Vegas as he shared the rest of the details.
Later, Mindy and I went to meet John at a Starbucks.
“This is good stuff,” the detective said, his eyes glinting with excitement.
“Is it enough?”
“I can’t make any promises, but if I can’t at least get him in custody with this, someone should take away my badge.”
Mindy laughed, and John turned his attention to her, as if he was seeing her for the first time. Maybe even checking her out.
47
Thomas
Eighteen years ago
Any day now, I would learn if I’d landed the promotion. The increase in salary made me even hungrier for the job, and I was sure I’d nailed the interview with my boss. Paul had seemed impressed and had asked me a ton of questions about how I’d uncovered the discrepancy, and what they could do to prevent those sort of accounting errors in the future.
“We should have an answer in a few days,” Paul said at the end of the interview, then extended a hand and flashed a toothy grin before walking me to the door.
The next day, I entered my last ride of the day in the logbook in the break room. After a hearty swig of my coffee, I set the mug down, closed the binder, and stood up to leave, when I was joined by a young guy. I didn’t know the fellow’s name, but I’d seen him around, operating as sort of a jack-of-all-trades. He had a short Mohawk and a gold earring in his right ear, and he helped out Paul from time to time.
“Hey,” I said, with a nod of my chin.
“Hey,” the guy replied. He wore a black T-shirt, and had arms like iron and height like a basketball player. “Got a minute?”
I stopped in my tracks. “Sure. What do you need?”
The guy scratched his chin and then waved broadly to the break room. “Listen. I get that sometimes things might seem odd around here.” He tilted his head to one side. “Was this written down?” Then the other side. “Was this not written down? It can be confusing remembering if everything was there, if it wasn’t there.”
I frowned. “You work closely with Paul?”
The guy nodded, then flashed a smile. “That I do, and listen,” he said, clamping his hand on my arm, “let me give you some advice. Things here are more complicated than they seem. I had to learn that the hard way, but I learned it. You’re just better off if you don’t let all those details worry you.”
“I’m not worried,” I said, straightening and shrugging the guy off my arm.
The man clapped me on the back. “Good. Because there is nothing to worry about whatsoever.”
I raised a brow at his last comment. The man was clearly delivering a message. One I wasn’t sure how to take. “Okay, then. So we’re good.”
“We are good. Just remember,” the man said, tapping my broad chest, “you have any questions, you ask me. I’m here to help.” He lowered his voice. “The key to lasting a long time here, to getting the good gigs, is to know what’s important and what’s not important. I want to help you get there. Let me help you.”
I wasn’t sure I bought his routine, but best not to let on. I nodded and said, “Sure,” even though I was pretty damn
certain I wouldn’t be turning to this guy for help. “What did you say your name was?”
“TJ.” He repeated it. “TJ.”
I rubbed my hand across the back of my neck and thanked him, then headed off to meet Sanders and Donald for our Saturday afternoon poker game at Sanders’s house. Once I arrived, I settled in at the table, grabbed a beer, and caught up with my buddies as Donald dealt, focusing on the cards, tuning out a lot of our work talk, as he often did.
“How was the interview? Think you’ll get it?” Sanders asked.
I shrugged hopefully. “Hope so. I think he was impressed with some of the things I brought up for improvement, as well as how I can apply what I’ve been learning in night school.” Sanders sat up straighter and raised an eyebrow as I elaborated. “There were some extra trips and missing trips in the logbook. Seemed like a problem area to me. But then after the interview some guy made a big deal about how there was nothing to worry about. Whatever that means,” I said, still doubtful about the whole incident.
“Was he talking about the missing trips?” Sanders asked as he perused his cards.
“He didn’t really say, but it sure seemed that way.”
“Huh.” Sanders scrubbed a hand across his jaw.
Conversation halted as Annalise popped into the kitchen. “Oh, hello!” She gave a quick wave to each of her host family’s guests—to Donald and to me. “I’m going to get a snack,” she said, and reached for an apple in the fruit bowl on the counter.
“Hey, Annalise,” I said, tipping an imaginary hat. She was leaving in a month or so, heading back to Paris, and Michael and I were concocting a way for them to stay together. “Good to see you. Michael said you have plans with him later today, right?”
She nodded. “Yes. We’re going to the movies.”
“Want a ride over when we’re done here?”
“I would love that. Thank you.”
As she left, Sanders shook his head and smirked.
“What are you laughing at?”
“Those two. So young and in love.”
“It’s nice to see,” I said, then winked. “Does it remind you of Dora and me?”
Donald snorted. “Ha. Not exactly.”
It was no secret among my friends that my marriage had run into some trouble. Dora had been distant, distracted lately. Not to mention harping on me about money all the time. I wouldn’t have minded more, but it’s not like I was pissing it away. We played cards for pennies, and I worked my ass off to save everything I made.
“I know, right?” I said, shaking my head, half amused, half irritated. “She’s been all over me about money. But we’re getting by, and I feel good about this promotion. Besides, I told her if she wants money, she should just smother me and collect the life insurance.”
Sanders cracked up, and Donald raised his beer. “Let’s hope she doesn’t take you up on it,” he joked.
I laughed. “Yeah, she thought it was funny too. Besides, everything is fine. I’ve got plans in place for all the kids, and college, and life. It’s all good. She doesn’t need to worry. I’ll get the promotion, I’ll show them what I can bring to the table, and it will all work out fine.”
48
Sanders
Eighteen years ago
I took a long gulp of my beer to cover up the nerves flaring inside me.
The rides. Those damn missing rides.
I knew about the rides. I knew why they didn’t exist in the books. But unlike my buddy, I didn’t fucking ask questions at work. The company had been good to me, plain and simple. No reason to sniff around and ask about things. The less you asked, the better off you were. Head down, nose to the grindstone, mind your own business.
That’s what I did. Did the jobs, took the cash, paid the bills.
And saved some extra for the future. Hell, that’s all I wanted to do. Provide a comfortable future for my Becky.
So I took on the extra work to make it happen.
It was starting to make retirement possible someday. Someday down the road, but I could feel that day coming. And hell, did I ever want to tell my friend how to get in on the action.
Call him over, lower my voice, and say, You didn’t hear this from me, but . . .
Because the company offered ample opportunity for making money. I wished I could tell Thomas how to do it. Share the secrets.
But the man was too good. He wasn’t one for breaking the rules, let alone bending the rules.
Ever.
As Becky wandered past the kitchen on her way to the garden in the backyard, I caught a glimpse of my wife.
Her smile, the hope in her eyes.
A man had to do what a man had to do. Every man had to take care of his family in his own way.
I met Thomas’s eyes and nodded. “Yup. It will all be fine.”
49
Thomas
Eighteen years ago
“How was your day, Mr. Paige?” Annalise asked, as she slid into the front seat next to me an hour later.
“Not too bad. Yours?” I turned on the engine. She was such a sweet girl, and I was so damn happy that Michael had found her.
“It was good. I’m good to go for the history test,” she said with a wide smile, using one of the Americanized phrases she’d learned during her stay. “And did you have a good morning at work? You work hard for a Saturday.”
I tapped the dash as I pulled out of the driveway and rolled down the street. “Doing my best. And yes, work was good.”
“But there is something you worry about?” she asked, tilting her head. “I was not eavesdropping, but I heard some of your conversation as I walked into the kitchen. I hope you don’t mind me asking.”
I smiled and shook my head. “Nope. Don’t mind at all. I admire your curiosity. You’d make a good journalist someday.”
She smiled widely. “Thank you. That’s what I hope to do. With my photos.”
“You’ll do great. And to answer your question,” I said as I flipped on the blinker and turned right, “there’s just something odd I noticed at work, so I mentioned it.”
I shared a few details with her, since she was such a good listener.
“Maybe there is a reason for it all? There has to be. Things don’t just disappear,” she said. “You are probably onto something. Some connection.”
I nodded. “That’s what I think too.”
I slowed at a red light near the strip mall. I glanced over and my eyes narrowed briefly, catching the silhouette of a man walking into the nearby piano store. Holy crap. The guy looked like TJ. Big and broad and toweringly tall. Annalise’s eyes followed mine.
“Do you know him?”
“I think so,” I said, peering out the window.
The man turned around before heading inside. No doubt. The arms, the height. That was TJ.
And I never would have expected to see him here.
“Funny. Some guy who works with me just went into the piano shop. He gave me a hard time earlier today. I’d never have pegged him as a musician.”
She flashed a smile. “People surprise you. They do things we don’t expect.”
50
Dora
Eighteen years ago
As my husband stripped off his button-down shirt, I fiddled with a necklace on my bureau, averting my eyes. I could hardly look at him anymore. I didn’t want him. I’d had no interest in him since I’d fallen in love with another man.
I hadn’t planned to. But Luke had given me so much. He’d given me hope. He’d helped me find a way to make more money, to earn well beyond my meager seamstress wages and Thomas’s paychecks. The cash I’d amassed from my side business had helped me make ends meet and then some. Luke understood that. He wanted the same things. He was driven, and since he knew I’d needed more, he’d helped me find a way to get it. Something Thomas wouldn’t do. Ever since that night I’d met Luke at the work party—not Narcotics Anonymous, like I’d told my sweet Ryan—he’d understood my deepest needs. To provide for my child
ren. To give them the opportunities I’d never had. So what if I had to bend some rules to make it happen? Break some laws, even?
Luke was wonderful and sweet and paid attention to all my needs. I longed to be with him. Ached to have a life with him. I was sure he was my future, especially now. I ran a hand over my stomach, still flat, but not for long.
Could I go through with it? I’d lined up all the players. Luke had helped me find the right men, connecting me with a broker who was flawless at arranging hits.
I knew TJ, had sold to him and his cousin. I knew Stefano well too, since he was my supplier.
My stomach churned at the thought, but I pushed those feelings aside, denying them. I was tired, so damn tired of scraping by. Besides, I wanted to raise my family with Luke. Was that so wrong? How could it be, now that God had put this baby in my belly?
Still, my chest heaved as I placed the simple necklace Luke had given me in the bottom drawer of my jewelry chest. I’d wear it when we ran off, when we escaped at last. A symbol of my freedom from this hard life.
“Everything okay?” Thomas asked, that all too familiar concern in his voice. He tried to look out for me, even now. He had no idea, no idea about a damn thing, and I wished he’d stop being nice to me.
I pressed my lips together and nodded. “Just fine.”
I ran a hand over my stomach, a fresh wave of nausea kicking in. I gritted my teeth, not wanting to let on. I’d had morning sickness that lasted all day long with my other pregnancies. No surprise I’d have it again with this one. I hadn’t slept with my husband in months, so I’d never had any doubt about who this baby’s daddy was.
My Sinful Love (Sinful Men Book 4) Page 18