by Melinda Minx
“There were like twenty witnesses,” I say. “And this time, Anton had his back turned to Liam. It’s not like Anton swung first this time!”
“It will be fine, Amber,” James says.
He’s still not convincing me.
“I need to go put in my version of events,” I say.
James leans back and sighs. “You think Liam’s never been held overnight before?”
“He has?” I ask. “For what?”
James looks at me like I’m an idiot. “For losing his temper. Like right now.”
“He’s done this before?” I ask, realizing that he did it before, with Anton, right in front of me.
“Not quite this bad,” James says. “But yes. That’s why I’m not worried.”
He can’t buy off all the witnesses. Well, he could, but there’s no way to make twenty people all tell a fake account of what happened that lines up well enough.
Then it hits me. I know what I have to do.
“James,” I say. “It feels weird here without Liam. I think I’m going to go sleep in my apartment tonight.”
He raises an eyebrow at me. He knows I’m probably up to something, but he’s not sure what.
“You’re not going to sneak over to the police and create a huge mess for Liam’s lawyers to clean up, are you?”
I shake my head, and answer honestly. “No, I’m not.”
“I’ll get Hans to drive you,” James says.
That means he doesn’t trust me, and he wants to make sure I’m going where I say I am.
“Great,” I say. “I can sleep on the way.”
27
Liam
“Don’t think that just ‘cause you’re a billionaire,” the officer says, shoving me into the holding cell, “that we got some polished marble cell for you!”
“Polished marble wouldn’t be any more comfortable than this,” I say, pointing to the drab grey concrete.
“You know what I mean!” he says, slamming the cell door and locking it. “It’d look all fancy and shit.”
“I guess,” I say. “But if I could pay to have a more comfortable stay, I’d probably want a nice leather recliner, or maybe a--”
“Nice try, Lions,” he says. “But you ain’t getting anything like that! You can spend a full night like an average Joe, for once in your life.”
I grin. I don’t really care. I just wanted to give him a hard time.
I lie down on the crappy little bed, which is bolted to the wall. It’s stiff and hard, but softer than polished marble, at least.
“Ahh,” I say, stretching. “Pretty comfortable.”
He shoots me a look, then straightens his back to look down at me. “I got important stuff to do. You can stay here and think about what you’ve done.”
“Will do,” I say.
My anger from before is still there, and the cheery image I’m trying to project isn’t doing much to help it die down.
I’m not really mad that Anton broke the deal--I’m mad that he made Amber feel unsafe. I’m even more mad that she got mad at me for protecting her honor. Leave it to women to ask for something, and then get furious at you when you do it.
I doze off, but get awakened by the officer from before when he slams his nightstick against the bars.
“Wake up! Your lawyers are here. How many lawyers you need, man?”
They bring me to a room that is equally as uncomfortable as the holding cell, but this room has a table in the middle. There’s a harsh fluorescent light above, and it’s flickering and buzzing. It starts to give me a headache. I can’t help but feel it’s intentional.
“Let’s make a note,” I say. “To donate some funds to the Seattle PD. If I have to stay here again, I want better treatment.”
Gary, my head lawyer, laughs. “Tell me you’re joking. You’re already planning to end up in here again? This thing with the kid. It looks bad, Liam, like a pattern of offenses.”
“The last one didn’t count,” I say. “We settled--”
“And this happened because he broke the settlement,” Gary cuts in. “So unless you are planning to not include that as part of the defense--which I would not recommend--the settlement will come to light, and it will become clear that you have some ‘beef,’ as my kids would say, with this…”
He scans the paper in front of him, squinting. “Valencia,” he says. “Anton...Valencia.”
“Did Anton pay you to say his name like that?” I ask, groaning.
“Huh?” Gary asks.
“Never mind,” I snap. “Just figure out the defense and tell me what part to play.”
“We don’t even know if the guy is going to press charges,” Gary says. “We could just offer him a bigger settlement--”
Ryan, another lawyer, cuts in. “Then this guy--Valencia--is going to get the idea that he can keep hitting you up like an ATM machine--”
“I hit him,” I interrupt, smirking.
“Please don’t say that in court,” Gary says.
“You think this thing is going to court?” I ask.
They all shrug. “Do you want to offer him a new settlement deal?” Gary asks. “Maybe add in more strict penalties if he breaks this one. Let him know it’s his last chance?”
“I’ll think about it,” I say. “I need to sleep on it first, though.”
They start to pack up their things. They know that when I need to sleep on something, I mean it. I’ll have my decision ready for them in the morning.
I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I know I wouldn’t let Anton settle again unless there was some kind of restraining order involved. Or maybe I’d pay to move him somewhere. As far away from Seattle as possible. Miami maybe. He’d have to trade in his dumb blazer for some swim trunks, but at least his sunglasses wouldn’t look so out of place there.
28
Amber
I do get Hans to take me home, and I even go into the apartment long enough to get a drink of water and wash my face.
The main reason I went home, though, was to grab my old cell phone. I plug it in and wait forever for it to charge enough to turn on. I open the text messages, find Anton in there, and scroll up to the first time he texted me.
I cringe just looking at it. Reading through it, I see that I was “nice” to him, and how he got the totally wrong idea from it. It wasn’t my fault--it totally was his fault--but I wish I had just been a bitch to him instead of humoring him.
I find what I’m looking for after only a few minutes:
“I live in Apex apartments, just off campus. Apartment 203...if you ever want to swing by and watch a Bluray or something. I’ve got an extensive collection.”
I roll my eyes at that, as if I’d just show up at his stupid apartment. Then I read my response.
“Oh, cool. Maybe...sometime.”
Idiot. I should have cut contact right there--or earlier even.
Ironically enough, though, I am actually going to show up at his apartment now. I could call him, but I think it will be more effective to blindside him. I can humor him one more time. Just long enough for him to drop the charges against Liam, and then I’ll never look at him again.
I live north of UW, so I take a bus down toward campus, and then I walk the quarter mile or so to Anton’s apartment building.
I get a tight, nervous feeling in my chest as soon as I arrive. As much as he has scared me and made me feel unsafe, I don’t think he’d actually hurt me. Still, I wonder if I shouldn’t text James or Dana and let them know where I am--just in case. The problem is, if I do, either of those two would immediately come get me, thinking how stupid of an idea this was.
I shake my head. I have to do this alone. Only I can save Liam, and this is a risk I’ll have to take.
I go up a flight of stairs to find apartment 203, and once I’m outside the door, I stand and wait. I could still turn around right now. I could just wait and see what Liam’s lawyers can manage to arrange. They are good, and he pays them a lot, so I don’t have t
o do this.
Then again, I have more sway over Anton than any lawyer would. I, more than anyone else, could talk Anton out of pressing charges against Liam. I’d never forgive myself if I turned around right now and walked away. If Liam was sent to prison for years when I could have stopped it all with less than an hour of awkward conversation with Anton, I’d feel like such a coward.
29
Anton
Cynthia is sitting on my couch. Her legs and arms are crossed, and she’s wearing a nice short skirt. Her legs look good, and it’s hard not to stare.
“You sure your phone is on?” she asks me for the third time.
I check it. It has a full battery and is plugged in. “Yep.”
“No one has called you in three hours. Not even a text?”
Cynthia’s phone has been beeping and chirping non-stop, while mine has been dead silent.
“Uh,” I mutter. “My friends and I usually meet up at the bar for drinks.”
“You don’t call or text each other?” she asks, her brows furrowing.
“We, uh--”
“Oh,” she says, icily. “I get it now. You don’t have any friends.”
She looks down at her phone again, completely ignoring me.
“How do you know she’s going to call me?” I ask, changing the subject.
Cynthia looks up at me. “Losers used to play chess, at least if I can believe all those movies from the eighties. Now, you guys just play games where you shoot each other with guns and call in airstrikes.”
“Actually,” I say, “I play role-playing games, where--”
“Shut up,” she says. “I don’t care, actually. My point is, this is like a game of chess.”
She plays chess; that’s so hot. I imagine her casting her rook with one hand and squeezing my balls with her other.
“Depending on Amber’s next move,” Cynthia says, still not even looking up from her phone, “I will gain a lot of information.”
“What if she moves how you don’t want her to?” I ask.
“A good move forces your opponent into two equally bad moves,” Cynthia says. “I just made a good move.”
I grin wide. “With me, your knight?”
She scoffs. “With my pawn.”
“If I crawl all the way to the end of the board…” I start to say, but then--
Cynthia laughs, loud and genuine. “Then you’d become a queen, you idiot. You want to be a queen?”
“It’s the most powerful piece…” I say, but she’s still laughing at me.
“What does it mean if she doesn’t call me?” I ask.
“It means she is just a fiancée for hire,” Cynthia says. “Which is what I initially suspected. It means she doesn’t really love Liam.”
I smile, but now I’m not sure. Which woman do I love more? Cynthia, or Amber? Cynthia hates me, but that’s hot. Actually, Amber hates me, too...she’s just nicer about it. Well, she was nice about it for a while, at least. Before Liam Lions.
“And if she calls me,” I say. “Asking me to drop the charges, it means she loves him?”
“Yes,” Cynthia says. “I can’t believe you need me to spell that out for you. So if she calls, and she loves him, what do you do?”
This is the part I feel bad about, but I can’t say no to such a smoking hot woman. “I lure her here,” I say. “You’re not going to actually hurt her, right?”
“No,” she says. “I’m not going to hurt her.”
I try to swallow, but it gets stuck in my throat.
“If you’re going to really hurt her,” I say, “then I won’t lure her here…”
Cynthia gives me a death stare.
“I mean,” I say. “You said you wouldn’t hurt her, so I will lure her--”
There’s a knock on the door.
“What the hell!” Cynthia hisses. “I thought you don’t have any friends!”
“I don’t!” I hiss back.
Damn it! I shouldn’t have admitted that.
“Who is it then?” she asks.
I shrug.
“Go check!” she rasps, pointing to the door. “Use the peephole.”
I quickly look through it, and I see Amber standing outside my door.
I look back at Cynthia. “It’s her.”
“Who?” she whispers.
“Amber.”
“I have to hide,” Cynthia says. “In your bedroom.”
“Wait,” I grab her arm.
She doesn’t tell me to let go, but she looks up at me with such icy anger that I let go without thinking.
“If…” I stammer. “If she sees you here, she might feel jealous, and she might--”
She shoves me toward the door. “Same plan as before, but in person instead of by phone. Got it?”
She turns her back to me and disappears into the bedroom.
I steel myself and open the door.
30
Amber
Anton opens the door.
He looks down at me, and he doesn’t look as confused at my arrival as I’d have expected.
His face is a bruised mess. Even though the blood is all wiped off, the bruises are all red, black, and blue.
He smiles nonetheless. “Amber.”
“Anton,” I say. “Can I come in?”
I try to make my voice sound sweet, the way I used to around him. Mostly because I felt sorry for him. I don’t feel sorry for him now, but I want him to think I do.
He nods and ushers me in.
“I don’t suppose you’re here to get your engagement ring from me,” he says. “And to accept my marriage proposal.”
I bite my lip. “No...sorry, Anton, it’s not that.”
“You can sit down here,” he says, pointing to the couch.
I see an indentation on the leather. It’s too small to be Anton’s. It almost looks like it was made by a woman.
“Did you--” I start, and then the smell of perfume hits me.
“Oh,” Anton says. “Yeah, I had a girl here. She just left.”
“I guess you got over me quickly,” I say, surprised that he managed to convince any girl to come over with his face looking the way it does.
“Girls like a guy who gets in a fight,” Anton says. “Honestly, Amber, I didn’t want to hit Liam this time. I mean, I did want to hit him, but I knew you’d hate me forever if I hit him, so I just tried to run.”
“Uh huh,” I say, nodding. “Thank you for not hitting him...that’s why I’m here actually. Liam shouldn’t have hit you either.”
“I know he shouldn’t have,” Anton says.
“I wanted to apologize for him,” I say. “He lost his temper, and it wasn’t cool.”
Anton nods.
“What you did to me in class wasn’t cool either, though,” I say, meeting his eyes.
He looks down at the floor, seeming embarrassed. I can’t tell if his face is reddened or not through all the bruising.
“I know,” he says. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I mean...I wasn’t thinking.”
“You thought long enough to get a ring,” I say. “It’s not like it was some spur of the moment decision.”
He doesn’t look back up at me.
“But it’s okay,” I say. “I’m not here to make you feel bad about that.”
“You’re here to get Liam off the hook,” Anton says.
“He overreacted,” I say. “But you also broke the agreement. I think we should all just walk away from this.”
Anton starts to nod. “I think the money has corrupted me. The fast car, the fast women...it’s too much for a good guy like me. I agree we should all walk away. Just take it all back. Pretend none of it ever happened.”
“So you’ll drop the charges?” I ask, trying to keep my jaw from dropping open.
“Sure,” he says. “If you’ll tell me one thing.”
“What’s that?” I ask nervously.
“Do you really love him?” Anton asks.
His normal goofy and aloof tone
is gone. He seems to genuinely want to hear my answer.
I start to nod. “I feel like I’ve told everyone this but Liam himself. But yeah, I do.”
“I know he paid you off, Amber,” Anton says.
I try to fake confusion, but somehow he knows. I can see it in his eyes.
“Look,” he says. “Don’t deny it. Just answer this one question for me, and if I know you’re not lying, I’ll drop the charges.”
“Okay,” I croak out.
Liam would be so furious with me if he could see this. If he knew I just casually admitted--to Anton Valencia of all people--that he had paid me off to act as his fiancée.
“If you knew everything you knew now about Liam, and if he first proposed to you right now. If he didn’t offer you any money, would you still say yes?”
“Without hesitation,” I say.
A woman’s voice cuts through the darkness. It’s familiar, but I can’t place it.
“Wrong answer,” she says, stepping out of the shadows.
When the light hits her, I see her straight black hair and icy blue eyes. Cynthia Frost.
I nearly jump--the same instinctive reaction I’d get if I’d seen a big spider creep out of Anton’s bedroom.
I didn’t think Anton would really hurt me, but Cynthia? Especially knowing she just overheard everything I said to Anton? I turn my back and start to run.
I get the door open, knowing that once I step outside, I’ll be safe from immediate danger.
I get two or three steps into the hallway, and slam headfirst into a wall.
I would crash to the ground, but the wall isn’t a wall--it’s a man. He grabs me before I fall, and he shoves me back into Anton’s apartment.
I hear the door slam behind us, and I look up to see that he’s no one I recognize. He looks grizzled and scarred. He has close-cropped, male-pattern baldness, and he’s all muscle and frown.
He shoves me forward, toward Cynthia, who is laughing.
“What the hell?” Anton asks.
“You want me to kill them both?” the guy asks, reaching down into his coat.