by Rachel Woods
A new life with John maybe—hopefully. A life where they would develop a morning routine of early morning lovemaking and then a hearty breakfast. They would talk about their plans for the day and discuss the tree house expansion, which Spencer never tired of hearing about and was anxious to see implemented. Then John would head off to work. She would walk him out to the porch, give him a kiss, and watch him head off down the path toward the administration building. When he was finally out of sight, Spencer would sink into the rocking chair and allow herself the luxury of enjoying the jungle.
Setting the coffee mug on the small table next to the chair, Spencer sighed. She had to let go of this silly fantasy about this new life with John, a life where they had met under different circumstances. She couldn’t pretend she hadn’t met John because of the favor she had to do for Ben Chang.
The favor would always intrude on her solitude, hanging over her happiness like a dark cloud. Her time with John had been, so far, wonderful, but she was wary of becoming complacent.
Life was like one of those beautiful, sunny days when all she could see stretched before her was blue skies and fluffy white clouds … and then she would look over her shoulder and see those large, looming thunderclouds. Foreboding and ominous, they seemed far away, tricking her into thinking there was enough time to bask in the sun. Too soon, the rain would come.
Weary and disillusioned, Spencer headed back into the casita to look for the damn envelope.
Thirty minutes later, she stood in the middle of a small study, a mahogany-paneled room lined with bookshelves, her gaze roaming from the desk at the back of the room to the couch in front of the desk to the chair in the corner.
The first bedroom on the second wing of guest rooms she’d searched had been a bust, and she wasn’t holding out any hope of finding anything in the study. Fighting panic, Spencer dropped down onto the chair in the corner, trying to summon the will or the guts or whatever the hell she needed to continue the search.
One last bedroom, and then the living room, the den and the library. Four more rooms to search. Four more chances to find the envelope. What if she didn’t? What the hell was she going to do? Start the search all over again? Ben was convinced the envelope was in John’s casita. What if it wasn’t?
She would never be able to convince Ben that she hadn’t found the envelope because it wasn’t in the casita. Ben would assume she hadn’t looked long enough or hard enough; he’d accuse her of trying to escape the consequences of her mistakes, and then—
He would burn her grandmother’s house down.
She rose from the chair, picked up the accent pillow, and tossed it over onto the couch. Just as she had with the couch, Spencer lifted the bottom cushion seat.
Her heart shot into her throat and she started to tremble.
A lambskin envelope sealed with a dragon wax stamp.
Struggling to catch her breath, Spencer could hardly believe what she was staring at.
It was the envelope Ben wanted.
She’d found it.
chapter 84
San Ignacio, Belize
Belizean Banyan Resort – Manager’s Office
“So, I’m guessing you haven’t found out if Spencer is going to come clean about her involvement with the Xanax deliveries, have you?” D.J. asked, though it was more of an accusation, or an indictment, than a question.
Sione turned from his computer to stare at his cousin, who’d waltzed right into his office without knocking or allowing Marie to announce him.
“I’ve been busy,” Sione said, though he couldn’t even remember how long ago it had been since he’d told D.J. he would confess his knowledge about the Xanax boxes in an effort to garner a confession from Spencer.
“Yeah, busy trying to convince yourself that Spencer isn’t a lying bitch.”
“Is there a reason why you’re here?” Sione asked.
“Actually, there is,” D.J. said. “Not that I think you’ll do anything positive or productive with the information I’m about to give you, like share it with Jared, but I’m going to tell you anyway, and you can let your conscience be your guide.”
“What information?”
“Maxine Porter, Carla Garcia, and Karen Nelson all have more in common with each other beside the fact that they each received a fake passport and money from Ms. Edwards,” D.J. started. “Remember I told you they worked together at Kwik Kash? And then I told you that Kwik Kash came under investigation for money laundering?”
“Yeah,” Sione said.
“The women also found themselves under investigation by the Feds,” D.J. said. “They were offered a deal. Immunity in exchange for ratting out the real owner of Kwik Kash—which was something the Feds didn’t know and were having a hell of a hard time figuring out.”
“Okay, yeah, so,” Sione said.
“Once the three women came under investigation, I think the owner of Kwik Kash got wind of things and told the ladies to skedaddle. The owner paid the women not to testify against him. And he arranged for them to get passports under new names, probably so they could leave the country and become new people.”
“That’s possible,” Sione said, wary. He had a feeling his cousin was dragging out the story on purpose, working his way toward some shocking, or unexpected, revelation.
“Now, if you’ll remember,” D.J. went on. “I told you that Maxine Porter, Carla Garcia, and Karen Nelson all worked together at Kwik Kash, and their manager was William Bermudez, the guy who gave Ms. Edwards that gift she didn’t seem too happy to receive.”
Sione nodded, his apprehension increasing. “We’d figured Bermudez was the guy Spencer was supposed to contact when she got to Belize.”
“Bermudez probably gave Spencer instructions about delivering the fake passports and money,” D.J. said. “But who told Bermudez to give Spencer those instructions.”
“We don’t know.”
“We didn’t know,” D.J. said, looking a bit too smug, in Sione’s opinion. “But we do now.”
Rubbing his chin, Sione waited, feeling the need to prepare himself or brace himself.
“I told you the house that William Bermudez is renting is owned by Blue Mountain LLC,” D.J. said. “Well, interestingly enough, Maxine Porter’s condo is also owned by Blue Mountain LLC.”
“That is interesting.”
“Blue Mountain LLC, is a subsidiary of The Leviathan Group, which is a holding company of another company called Borrowed Lizard Enterprises,” D.J. said.
“Borrowed Lizard?” Sione asked.
“Blue Mountain LLC owns Kwik Kash also,” D.J. said. “I had to peel back a lot of layers to find out the owner of Blue Mountain LLC, and it took me a while. But eventually, I found out that Borrowed Lizard Enterprises, which owns The Leviathan Group, which owns Blue Mountain LLC, which owns Kwik Kash, William Bermudez’s house, and Maxine Porter’s condo, is owned by … Ben Chang …”
Sione stared at his cousin, waiting for some kind of punch line, but D.J. just stared at him.
“While you struggle to process that information,” D.J. said. “I will tell you my new theory, which is that Ben arranged for the women to get new identities and gave them money so they wouldn’t be convinced to testify against him. And I think Ben told Ms. Edwards to make those deliveries for him. Which means, Ms. Edwards is connected to Ben Chang.”
“I don’t believe that,” Sione said, his heart pounding as he turned back to his computer.
“What don’t you believe?” D.J. asked.
Sione stared at the screen, still trying to wrap his mind around D.J.’s latest bombshell, even though he knew he couldn’t. He would never be able to come to terms with what D.J. was trying to make him believe.
“Spencer is not working for Ben Chang.” Sione shook his head and then faced his cousin. “It’s not true.”
D.J. leaned forward. “Then what is the truth about that damn woman?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t you think it’s time
to find out?” D.J. asked. “Don’t you think it’s time to have a long, serious conversation with Spencer Edwards?”
chapter 85
San Ignacio, Belize
Belizean Banyan Resort – Owner’s Casita
Another day had begun, and once again, Sione was waking up with Spencer in his arms. As they whispered their good mornings, he was enticed and addicted by the hypnotic feeling of her lush curves pressed against him, reminding him of last night’s lovemaking.
Since she’d moved into the casita, Sione now looked forward to closing his eyes every night with her arms wrapped around his waist and her legs entwined with his.
Every morning, they had breakfast, talking and fooling around, and then she would give him a kiss before he went off to work. That sensuous peck on the lips would carry him through his day, and he would think of her as he headed into his meetings and dealt with guest issues or other problems. That kiss was her promise to him that she would be there when he came home, waiting to kiss him again as he walked through the door.
He was hoping she would stay in Belize and see what might happen between them, but …
As much as Sione liked having her in his life, he was still bothered by the idea of some connection between her and Ben Chang. No, he was more than bothered by the idea. He was pissed and worried and disappointed.
Ben had tricked him with Kelsey Thomas, sending the woman to search through his home on some strange, secret errand for Richard.
And yet, Sione had gotten past the anger—or so he’d told himself. But finding out Ben was the owner of Kwik Kash, and had been behind the scenes, orchestrating Spencer’s every move, had reignited the animosity he felt toward Ben.
The hatred Sione believed would never subside had flared up again. Ben’s constant acts of betrayal and vengeance would probably never end. It would always be war between them.
The battles had begun when they were sixteen, too young to really understand what they had set in motion that hot, humid night when Sione had failed to live up to Richard’s expectations. Since that night, Ben had usually been the first to strike, always a devastating wound, worse than fatal. A mortal wound would end in death. What Ben inflicted would last a lifetime, a bloody, gaping gash that would never really heal.
“I’m going to take a shower,” Spencer said, kissing him. “You gonna join me?”
“Yeah.” He smiled at her. “But first, I need to talk to you about something.”
She started to move away from him, but Sione stopped her, pulling her back toward him.
“What is it?” Spencer asked, a trace of worry in her gaze.
The same worry snaked through him, almost convincing him to save the conversation he wanted to have with her for another time, like maybe never. It was a conversation they needed to have, even though it might ruin things between them, might stir up discord and mistrust and suspicion. The last thing Sione wanted was to drive Spencer away.
He didn’t want to wake up alone anymore.
But after his talk with D.J., Sione knew he had to find out if Spencer would tell him the truth about the fake passports and money she’d delivered.
“John?” she prompted, her voice holding traces of curiosity and anxiousness.
He tightened his hold on her, and as she relaxed against him, her cheek resting on his chest, he wished they could just stay in bed all day. “I want to ask you something,” he started. “And I want you to be honest with me.”
“You say that like you don’t think I would be honest with you.”
Sione wasn’t sure if she would be honest or not. But if she did lie to him, he hoped it wouldn’t be to purposely deceive him for her own selfish gain, but maybe to avoid disappointing him. Or maybe she would lie to protect what was happening between them, because she didn’t want the relationship to end before it really began.
“Well, first, I need to be honest with you about something,” he said. “And I guess I’m hoping that if I’m honest and if I come clean with you, then you will be honest and come clean with me.”
“What do you need to be honest and come clean with me about?” she asked.
“About the banker’s box,” he said. “I opened it. I know that you were not expecting training manuals. I know what was really in the box. I know what was hidden in the Xanax boxes.”
Sione felt her body tense, but he went on and said, “I know that there were three Xanax boxes, and inside each box was a passport and a whole lot of money.”
Spencer moved away from him and sat up, pulling the bed linens over her breasts.
Sione sat up. “I know you delivered the money and passports to three different women. Carla Garcia, Karen Nelson, and Maxine Porter.”
“How did you find out that I delivered the money and passports to those women?” she asked, putting more space between them.
“My cousin D.J.,” Sione admitted. “When I found the money and passports, I called D.J. and told him to find out what was going on with you.”
“So, you told your cousin to spy on me?”
“I just wanted D.J. to find out what was going on,” Sione said. “You have to understand. When I saw all that money hidden in those Xanax boxes, I didn’t know what to think. And I didn’t want to call the cops because I didn’t know why the money and passports had been delivered to you.”
“Well, I guess now you know what’s going on,” she said. “Your cousin told you.”
“I don’t know everything. I don’t know who told you to come to Belize and deliver the money and passports.”
“Didn’t your cousin find out?”
“I want you to tell me.”
“I can’t,” she snapped. “Because I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I never met the guy,” she said. “That’s the way I think he wanted it so if things didn’t go as planned, and I got myself arrested or in worse trouble, I wouldn’t be able to tell the cops anything about him.”
“You don’t know anything about him?” Sione asked, confused, not sure if he believed her, but not sure he was suspicious.
“All I know is that he owns the payday loan place where I went to about six months ago,” she said. “I made the mistake of borrowing five thousand dollars. I didn’t realize I was doing so at five hundred percent interest until I got the bill for twenty-five thousand dollars. There was no way I could pay that. Honestly, I couldn’t even pay back the five thousand.”
“Why did you borrow the money?”
“I lost my job. I couldn’t find a new one,” she said. “My credit cards were maxed out. I was barely paying the minimum on them. The five thousand dollars was to pay my rent and my car note for another three months.
“Anyway, when I went back to the loan store, I asked to speak with the owner,” she said. “I was told that I would not be able to meet the owner because the owner didn’t live in Houston. I was told the owner lived in Jamaica. So, I gave my sad story to the manager, and I asked him to please relay it to the owner. I was hoping the owner would be willing to work with me and give me some extra time to pay back the loan. Well, a week later, I got a call from the loan manager, and he wanted to meet with me. The loan manager had relayed my story to the owner, and the owner thought there was a way that he could help me.”
“How did the owner say he would help you?” Sione asked, waiting for an explanation, hoping it was something he could believe.
“The owner made me an offer I didn’t think I could refuse,” Spencer said. “He would forgive the entire loan if I did him a favor which was to come to Belize and deliver money and a passport to those three women. But if I didn’t do the favor, then the loan manager sort of let me know, without coming out and saying it, that the owner would make my life hell.”
“And the owner didn’t tell you why he wanted money and a passport delivered to those women?”
“No, because I never met the owner,” she said. “I don’t even know what his name is. I know the orders were coming from him
, but the loan manager was telling me what the owner wanted me to do. The owner and I never met face to face.”
“Did the loan manager tell you why the owner wanted money and passports delivered to the women?”
Spencer shook her head. “And I didn’t ask.”
“Probably best that you didn’t,” Sione said. “If the owner is who I think he is—”
“Who do you think he is?”
Sione sighed, rubbing his jaw. “His name is Ben Chang.”
“Ben Chang?” Spencer stared at him, a few emotions flickering in her brown eyes—surprise, and a few others he didn’t really recognize—that made him think she was worried about something.
“D.J. found out that Carla Garcia, Karen Nelson, and Maxine Porter worked together at a payday loan business in Houston,” he said. “It was called Kwik Kash, and it was owned by Ben Chang.”
“Kwik Kash is the name of the place I went to.”
“D.J. told me Ben Chang owns several Kwik Kash businesses in the states,” Sione said. “So, Ben Chang is the anonymous owner who sent you to Belize to make those deliveries.”
“So, this Ben Chang guy,” Spencer started. “Is he dangerous? Because you said it was best that I didn’t ask why he wanted money and fake passports delivered to Carla, Karen, and Maxine.”
“He’s more than dangerous,” Sione said. “He’s a crazy, cold-blooded sonofabitch …”
Sione grabbed the back of his neck, massaging it as he stared at the footboard.
He needed to calm down and get himself together, but it was hard. It was always damn near impossible to control his anger when it came to Ben Chang and the history they shared, the bloody past he always tried to forget, that he’d barely escaped.