Normally he avoided talking to his father as much as possible. When Enzo had left Brazil, they hadn’t been on the best of terms. His father had been of the opinion that Enzo should have turned a blind eye to his wife’s infidelity in order to keep the Silvas in her family’s good graces. “Just get a mistress, for Christ’s sake. Don’t ruin this marriage.” Those had been the words that cemented the fact that he needed to get out from underneath his father’s thumb as soon as possible. He hadn’t been the one to ruin their marriage. In fact, he had done everything in his power to keep the soulless shrew content during their loveless years together. He hadn’t been the one to stick his dick into another woman. Nope. She’d been the cheater; that had been all on her.
But now he was in Florida, still under his father’s thumb, but with a lot more freedom because he was a continent away. The problem was that the reason he was in Florida would undoubtedly ruin any relationship he planned on having with Jamie Lynn, and he felt guilty about not having told her. Still, he’d decided he’d be stopping the project right now, so there was no reason to upset her now by telling her, was there? The Walls would survive, and she didn’t have to know that he’d been single-handedly responsible for her friend’s arrest.
He reached for his phone and dialed.
“Pai,” Enzo said, using the Portuguese term for “father.” The elder Silva spoke English well, but they both reverted to Portuguese when they talked.
“Where have you been? The investors finally sent the documents we needed. We need to move on that. We’re so close to finalizing this deal.”
“Hello, Father. How are you? How’s Mother?”
He heard the sound of the old man sucking his teeth, and he could just picture him with a sour look on his face as he poured himself a scotch. “She’s fine. How’s Florida?” It was probably the only pleasantry he’d get.
“Hot. Rainy. But overall it’s good.”
“So about the project. BIA Inc. wants to break ground as soon as possible, but we’re waiting on the final environmental report. We need them to hold off just a little longer until we have that report, but these guys are not very patient. There’s a charity event in Tampa on Saturday. Go to the event and charm them into giving us a few more weeks. Help us close this deal, Lorenzo.”
“Pai, I was thinking.” Enzo sat back in his chair. “A mall in that area isn’t going to work. I think we should reconsider—”
“What are you talking about?” His father’s voice boomed over the phone. “Absolutely not! You know how many hours you’ve put into this. You need to get this done or I’ll go there and do it myself.”
Enzo felt the blood rise to his face. He stood and paced as he spoke. “I’ve been doing more research. This town isn’t like the others we’ve built in. The people here are close-knit. They won’t like a mall. We should try something different. I’m going to send you a new proposal by the end of the week.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Lorenzo? Go to the charity event and do what you’re paid to do,” he said, dismissing his son’s idea. “This divorce has cost us enough. I don’t need you screwing this up too.” The line went dead.
Enzo slammed the phone down and dropped his head to his hands. Then he grabbed the first thing he saw on his desk, a stapler, and threw it against the wall. His family owned countless malls throughout the world. They vetted up-and-coming areas, something that took years of analysis and study, bought the land dirt cheap, used inexpensive labor, and made a fortune. Not just from the build itself, but from the management of the mall after retailers had leased the space. This particular project would make them millions upon millions. But it meant clearing acres of land, including Jamie Lynn’s sanctuary. He’d had almost two days to tell her the truth, but he couldn’t bring himself to end the perfect long weekend they’d been having. And this information would surely cause all the fun they were having to come to an end.
He stood up and flung his office door open, startling Lisa. “Take messages,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. On second thought, he told her, “Fuck it. Just take the rest of the day off.”
“But Mr. Silva…”
He took a breath. He never cursed, and she looked startled by his outburst. “I’m leaving, Lisa. You can go too,” he said in a calmer tone before walking out.
Chapter 12
As soon as Enzo got in his car, he began to panic. He felt pulled in two directions. He wanted to tell Jamie Lynn about the Walls and then tell her he would do everything in his power to undo what he’d already put into motion. But he wasn’t sure how she’d take the information that not only had his company been planning to knock down the Walls, but he was the cause of her friend’s arrest—and that he’d insisted the police charge Leo with a felony instead of a misdemeanor. On the other hand, his father would disown and disinherit him if the deal didn’t close as planned. Not only would he ruin the deal, but quite frankly, his parents would have a coronary if they met Jamie Lynn, a tattooed artsy pixie who worked as a bartender. He was fucked whichever way.
Instead of heading home, he sped to Worth the Fight Academy to burn off some of his anxiety.
“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Travis asked as soon as Enzo walked into the Academy.
Enzo was carrying the duffel bag he always kept in his car, and his hair was undoubtedly sticking up because he’d been running his fingers through it. His tie was loosened, the top button of his shirt was undone, and he’d left his jacket in his car. Enzo never looked like this; he was always perfectly put together.
“Came to train.”
“Really?” Tony walked toward him. “You serious this time?”
“Had things to take care of, but I’m committed now.”
“Okay, good,” Tony said, patting Enzo’s shoulder. “Go change and meet me in the cage.”
Twenty minutes later, Enzo’s fingers were taped up and he was ready to fight. He walked into the cage to find the new guy he’d seen a few times training with Tony. “Enzo, meet Iggy. He works with Cain at IMC and is in town for a few months.” Enzo held out his hand and they shook. Cain was a former Army Ranger and ex-mercenary. If Iggy worked with Cain, he was surely a dangerous man, because Cain didn’t do anything that wasn’t dangerous.
“All right, guys, let’s see what you got,” Tony said. “Give him a good workout, Enzo.”
They began sparring, but Enzo noticed that Iggy was stiff when it came to certain moves. Maybe he wasn’t as experienced, Enzo thought. Enzo dodged a few jabs, but finally a left cross landed on his chin, making him angry. Offensively, Enzo landed a kick to the man’s left leg—and pain shot through his foot. “Motherfucker!” Enzo yelled out, limping back a step.
Tony chuckled. “Never heard you curse.”
“Shit, man, sorry. Shoulda told you.” Iggy lifted the hem of his pants, and Enzo gasped. “Titanium,” Iggy said with a proud grin.
“Oh…uh…”
“Don’t have to say anything, man.” Iggy let his pant leg drop back down. “I’m still getting used to people’s reaction. Lost my leg in Afghanistan.”
“You should’ve said something.”
“Why? I enjoyed your reaction.” He smirked and glanced down at Enzo’s foot. “Anyway, if I’d told you I had a prosthetic, you would’ve taken it easy on me, and that’s not the kind of thing I want. I want to spar. Best way to keep in shape. Before the amputation I was a boxer.”
Enzo was at a loss for words. Iggy seemed completely fine with his disability, hopping up and down and fighting with Enzo, all with a good disposition.
“Come on, guys. Stop sucking each other’s dick. Let’s go,” Tony said, clapping his hands together. “Watch the leg, Enzo. I don’t want you to break your foot.” And for the next hour, Iggy proceeded to kick Enzo’s ass.
After he had worked out to the point of exhaustion, Enzo went home to shower and think. His body ached and his foot throbbed from where he’d kicked Iggy. The first thing he noticed was the bed—Jamie
Lynn had made it. He pulled the cover off and fixed the sheets so that they were perfectly tight and then he redid the bedspread. He appreciated her effort, but it was just one of many things that showed how they were so different. He knew he was picking nits and letting his father’s words mess with his mind, but he couldn’t seem to help it. He went to the bathroom and noticed that the toothbrush and the rest of the toiletries they’d purchased for her on Friday were gone. But the smell of her vanilla soap still lingered in the room. He took a shower and was going to shave but wasn’t in the mood. Instead he paced around the house.
A few times he contemplated going to her, but each time he decided against it. Maybe they both needed space. They had spent every second together for four days. They hadn’t made any plans, but she knew where he lived….
Doubt was a bitch.
He threw himself on the bed and looked up at the ceiling, deep in thought, until his eyelids became heavy and regret for not making more permanent plans with Jamie Lynn set in.
—
So it was a fling.
JL had had flings before. Why did this one hurt so much? It was now midnight and he hadn’t called or texted her all day. How could she have misjudged something so much? Maybe her confession about Andy had changed things between them?
“G’night, Patsy!” JL hollered over her shoulder to the owner of the Pier as she walked outside to her car. It wasn’t as though she and Enzo had made any plans or spoke about anything more than the weekend, she told herself. She must’ve been caught up in the moment to have said as much as she had, and maybe that had scared him off. She had always had a problem with her bluntness. She should’ve just shut her mouth and kept things light and fluffy.
The phone rang in her purse, and she hurried to get it, hoping it was Enzo. “Hello?”
“Hey, you.”
She deflated. “Hey, Jonah. What’s up?”
“We’re going out tonight. There’s no signs of Officer Dick or his buddy Jerkoff. You wanna come? I can pick you up.”
She thought about it for a moment: go home alone, or go hang out with her friends and do something she loved to do. “Yeah, sure. Okay. Meet you there?”
“See ya soon.”
—
It was three-thirty in the morning by the time she got into her car to head home. She was bone tired. Four days of sex, a full shift on her feet serving drinks, and a night of painting her wall would surely ensure some sleep. JL stuck the key in the ignition, but before she pulled away from the curb she rested her forearms on the steering wheel and looked up at her wall through the windshield of her car. How would she get the courage she needed to climb that? She needed to work on the sky part of her painting but it seemed so high up. She closed her eyes and exhaled before opening them to look at it one last time. Flashing lights and a blare startled her. She looked into her rearview mirror to see a police car behind her.
“Shit,” she said out loud while rolling down the window.
“You know why I’m stopping you?” said the familiar officer—Officer Dick, as they’d nicknamed him.
“Well, I wasn’t speeding,” she joked nervously.
“Outta the car.”
Damn it. She unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out of the car. “Did you do this?” He pointed to her wall. She looked up, unsure what to say. But before she could decide whether to try to bluff her way out of it, he continued, “And before you lie, you still have paint on your face and hands.” JL cringed, but she knew her rights—or at least she knew enough to shut her mouth when questioned by the police.
“I’m waiting,” he said impatiently
JL just looked at him with a blank face and replied, “Suit yourself, honey.” The cop said something into the radio by his shoulder, then turned to JL. “License and registration.”
She blew a breath out and rummaged through her purse and glove compartment for the requested documents. As soon as she handed them to him he said, “Turn around, hands behind your back.”
“You’re arresting me?”
“What did you think this was, teatime? Yeah, I’m arresting you.” He motioned for her to turn around. “And I’m making sure that you people know how serious this is. Destruction of private property is a felony.”
“A felony?” She began to step back. “No. No. Please…”
“Resisting?”
She shook her head frantically, then turned around and did what he asked. “Don’t I get a call or something?”
“Quiet,” he said, and then he cuffed her and read her her rights. Once she was inside the police car he stepped out and spoke into his radio some more. She wasn’t sure what he was saying because the blood rushing through her ears was all she heard. She’d never been arrested before. Not even close. She’d seen her mother behind bars too many times to count, and she’d always sworn not to end up like her mother. She closed her eyes and breathed slowly. He had to be mistaken; this couldn’t result in more than a slap on the wrist, right? Then she remembered Leo, who a month later was still on probation.
The ride to the police station was quiet. Her only comfort was the thought that Jack would be there and help her. With her head hanging low, she went through the booking process, which caused her unfathomable amounts of shame; her hands trembled as she was fingerprinted, and her chin wobbled through the mug shot. Unfortunately, there was no sign of Jack anywhere. Finally she was given the opportunity to make a call, and without hesitation she called Travis. For a split second she thought that if she called Enzo, with his money and authoritative personality, she’d probably be out in no time. But not only hadn’t he called all day, this was not his problem. She was not his problem. Plus, this was the most humiliating thing that had ever happened to her and if she hoped to ever have a relationship with someone as classy as Enzo, having a criminal record wouldn’t help.
“Yo,” Travis said after the second ring. It was almost morning, and he sounded wide awake. She knew he had trouble sleeping, like she did. She also knew he loved women and partying and could very well just be getting home.
As soon as she heard his voice she broke out in a loud shoulder-shaking sob. “JL?” he asked, obviously not recognizing the phone number. “Is that you?” His voice was becoming agitated. “Darlin’, what’s wrong? Where are you?”
“Thirty seconds,” the cop said by her ear.
She took a fortifying breath and spat it out. “Come and get me, Trav. I’m in jail.”
“Jail?” he yelled.
“Yes, just come. Hurry, please.”
“You have arraignment early in the morning,” the police officer corrected her.
“Oh, well. I guess you can’t come get me. But…well, I’m in jail and he’s about to take the phone away from me. Come get me tomorrow.”
“JL—” her brother began.
“I didn’t do anything wrong. You know that, right?”
“Of course not. I’m already in my car. We’ll get this squared away—don’t you worry.”
The phone was pulled out of her grip and she was escorted into a jail cell. Tarpon City was a small city without a lot of crime, and therefore the jail wasn’t all that big. So JL could see through the metal bars when Travis stormed in, followed by a furious, scary-looking Enzo.
“What the fu—” Travis began, but he was quickly pushed aside by an equally agitated Enzo. But Enzo was class through and through, and he didn’t need to curse or raise his voice to be respected. In fact, he commanded the room by his mere presence. Instead of a suit, he wore black track pants and a white T-shirt, since it was, after all, barely morning. Yet his hair had that perfect side part and his straight posture and broad shoulders never faltered. “Get me O’Neill,” he snarled at the receptionist.
How did he know the officer? JL wondered. The man had a lot of dealings in town, so it wasn’t completely unlikely he’d know the local politicians and cops. The man who’d been at the receiving end of Enzo’s command turned and walked to the back office. Travis was saying somet
hing to Enzo, but Enzo was looking around, and when his eyes met hers, her breath caught and her heart skipped. Why had Travis brought him? She didn’t normally feel beneath anyone. She was proud of herself and of the life she’d made in spite of all the obstacles she’d had to overcome. But Enzo was unlike any other person she’d ever met. He was educated, wealthy, and well-mannered. It wasn’t that she felt he was too good for her. It was that she knew he could do better. She understood that they came from two completely different worlds and that all she would do was suck him into her existence, which apparently included late-night stints in the local jail. The strange thing was that he didn’t look at her with disgust. He looked concerned.
“There she is!” Travis shouted and pointed, breaking the moment. “We got your back, darlin’. Don’t you worry.”
“Sir, please keep your voice down and do not talk to the prisoners,” a woman officer said to Travis at the same time that Officer O’Neill, aka “Officer Dick,” walked out and met Enzo, who shook the man’s hand before they disappeared into the office.
—
Damn it! Enzo thought as he walked into Officer O’Neill’s office and shut the door.
“What’s the problem?” the officer asked.
“I need you to let Ms. Calhoun go.”
The officer sat down, stretched his legs out, and gestured for Enzo to have a seat.
“Now. I need her out now,” Enzo clarified, refusing to sit.
“You can’t have it both ways, Silva. Either we arrest the punks vandalizing the streets and hit them with, and I quote, ‘the fullest extent of the law,’ or we don’t.”
“They’re not vandalizing anything. It’s art.”
O’Neill snorted. “Art?” He casually placed his hands behind his neck, interlacing his fingers. “Between alcohol and drugs, that woman’s mother practically makes that cell her second home, so I’m having a little trouble wrapping my head around the fact that there’s obviously something going on with you and her daughter. The Silva I know has been up my ass for seven months to arrest everyone that even set foot in the Design District. You told us you needed an example set and then you gave us a $250,000 donation to make sure the project was funded. So now what? I let this one go, or all of them?”
Fighting Dirty Page 13