Whiskey & Honey
Empire Records Series, Book 1
Heather Lauren
Edited by
Edited by Kimberly Dawn
Illustrated by
Sara Kil
Contents
Acknowledgments
1. Lyla
2. Lyla
3. Cole
4. Lyla
5. Lyla
6. Cole
7. Cole
8. Lyla
9. Cole
10. Lyla
11. Cole
12. Lyla
13. Lyla
14. Cole
15. Cole
16. Lyla
17. Cole
18. Lyla
19. Lyla
20. Cole
21. Lyla
22. Cole
23. Lyla
24. Cole
25. Lyla
26. Cole
27. Lyla
28. Cole
29. Lyla
30. Cole
31. Lyla
Epilogue
Thank You!
About the Author
To my loving and supportive
future husband Ronnie.
I’m so lucky to get to love you.
Copyright 2021 © by Heather Lauren
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, brands, media, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This is a work of fiction. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Created with Vellum
Acknowledgments
I’m so thankful and grateful for the miracle of publishing this book.
It’s been a very long road and wouldn’t have happened without the love and unyielding support from my amazing man who inspires so many dirty thoughts.
To my children who are the absolute best and know how to show me love by giving me time to write and share a few adventures with the world.
I am the luckiest woman on earth and look forward to sharing more novels with everyone.
1
Lyla
Flushing and turning from the stall after upchucking for the first time—which I’m sure won’t be the last—I quickly turn away from the gross public toilet of the Chicago Police Department. How is this happening? This can’t possibly be my life. The years I’ve sacrificed. The blood, sweat, and lots and lots of tears I’ve shed all for nothing. Worse than nothing, my life as I knew it as of six a.m., the normal routine of the gym, the restaurant, and then bed, is all over and has exploded spectacularly in my face. I finish washing my hands and head out of the women’s restroom. As soon as I open the door, Detective Graves is waiting for me. That’s right. I can’t even be trusted to use the bathroom because this balding, fat, pompous asshat thinks my five foot seven skinny ass actually embezzled all my money from myself and also the restaurant I co-own and work at as the top chef. Howard Stapleton is a fucking dead man when I get my hands on him. My business partner has just stabbed me in the back so hard I can feel it coming out of my chest in a fiery blaze.
Instead of tears, my body can only produce vomit. Lots and lots of it for the past twenty excruciating minutes. To be told my dream is over and I’ve broken the law when I know I’ve done nothing wrong has my anger level over my boiling point. I’m not like most women in the sense of hurt feelings. Fuck feelings! Feelings are stupid and pointless, and I don’t want to feel them. I’ve been told this is a crazy and unrealistic outlook, especially since anger is a feeling and my most popular go-to. I really don’t fucking care. I am angry. I’ve worked too hard to be named Chicago’s next greatest chef and put my restaurant on the map when it was nothing but a broken-down rusting warehouse six years ago. Yeah, I did that. Maybe not by myself but I can’t find it in me to be thankful for my no-good partner, Howard, at the moment. I feel like strangling the fucker right now. As if he knows I’m thinking illegal thoughts, Detective Graves gently puts his hand around my elbow as we continue walking down the hallway of the precinct. We pass a man handcuffed to a desk who is covered in dirt and what looks like blood. His eyes are blue, his face covered in dark rust-colored smears. I’m a tough bitch, but I find myself stepping closer to Graves and walking a little faster. I don’t know how I got here. I’m not a criminal. I’ve never broken the law. I’ve never in my life thought I would ever be in a police station, never mind the fact I have no idea how long I’m going to be here or if these officers will be closing me in a jail cell of my own to spend the rest of my life…
“Ms.Turner, have a seat,” Graves instructs as we walk inside a cold room I assume is the interrogation room.
“As I stated before, you are here because we have evidence that a large amount of money has been funneling through your restaurant for the past five years and even more funds have been transferred to offshore accounts in the Caribbean and also parts of Europe. I hate to keep repeating myself, so if you would please explain your side of the story for the record,” he says as he extends his hand and points to the large window behind me.
“Sir, I assure you I had no idea of any of this. I’m a chef. I cook. That’s it. Everything else has been managed by my partner, Howard Stapleton. He has run all our finances for the last five years that Warehouse 39 has been open. I can’t begin to explain something I have a million questions about myself. I can’t believe this is even happening. I’ve trusted Howard to run and manage it all. Where is he? What has he said? Please just tell me this is a really bad joke,” I croak out.
“I’m afraid that’s not the case, ma’am. I do have good news in all this, but you’re not going to like it, and as far as the location of Howard Stapleton, we don’t know. We were hoping to get that information from you, but it’s become clear over the last eight hours that the name Howard Stapleton is an alias and not the man’s legal name. I’m sorry to inform you, Ms. Turner, but your assets are currently being seized by the United States government and all your bank accounts locked until further investigation can completely clear your name in all this.”
“I’m going to throw up again,” I say, lowering my face to look at my hands in my lap like they somehow have the answers.
“How the fuck did this happen? How the hell did he get away but yet I’m sitting here losing everything. Am I really going to go to jail for something I didn’t do?”
I look Graves dead in the eye with the fiercest glare I can manage as my anger rises and boils my blood, and I’m sure it shows all over my face.
“Well, ma’am, I did say I had some good news. We have tracked the illegal paper trail to your partner and are doing our best to clear you of all charges. We just need your cooperation and not your tempe
r,” he says with a professional glare right back in my face.
That cools me a bit. If best case scenario gets me the hell out of here and not serving time, I’ll play ball and try not to lose it. “Of course,” is all I can say between gritted teeth.
2
Lyla
Forty-eight hours later, I am finally allowed to be escorted out of the Chicago PD. My name is not cleared, and I am not a free citizen, but Detective Graves is honestly trying to help. Even so, my life still feels like it’s over. My one phone call was received by the only person I knew would come save me from this hell I’ve gotten myself into. Bad news is Marcus still lives in California, and that’s a thirty-hour drive, or a sleepless red- eye flight that has my best friend standing at the bottom of the police department stairs. There are puffy dark circles under his brown eyes, and his emerald green dress shirt and black slacks are wrinkled, but as soon as he looks up at me, a smile still manages to stretch across his face. Growing up was a constant hustle for me until I met him, my mom never being a parent always off with a new man at a new bar or passed out drunk in bed nursing a hangover. Our friendship has been the glue that’s held me together and Marcus and Charlie were my entire support team as I put myself through culinary school. Always encouraging me to follow my dream and here he is smiling at me like I didn’t just disappoint him.
I continue down the stairs a little faster. Good thing Graves doesn’t seem to mind. I think he believes I really am innocent now after our very long talk. I was able to give him a few names of men I knew Howard worked with. I’m still not sure if it’s helpful since I was under the impression they weren’t involved in the restaurant at all. Howard took meetings with them there so I had met them and knew their names but that was it. I also gave them my keys to the restaurant in which I was told to not return to. Ever. That one I will be crying about later when I’m alone. Right now, I’m going to hug my best friend. A man who is like a brother to me and the only family I have other than Charlie. Why did I ever leave San Diego?
“Hey, how are you?” Marcus whispers as he wraps his huge arms around me.
“I’m fucking terrible but so happy to see you,” I choke out, squeezing my eyes closed, not wanting to cry stupid tears.
“I can only imagine, babe. Let’s get you home.”
“Funny you should say home since currently I don’t have one.”
“What are you talking about?”
“If you’re referring to the overpriced apartment I used to own downtown, I’m not allowed to ever set foot in it again,” I say, looking up at him with embarrassment and moving out of his arms. “Funny thing about being accused of embezzlement is that I lose abso-fucking-lutley everything. Including but not limited to,” I say, pointing my finger up, continuing to count my misfortune on my fingers, “my car, my apartment, my checking and saving accounts, all the cash that was in my wallet when I was arrested in front of my staff at the Warehouse, and oh yeah, my restaurant.” I check off the last gut-wrenching fact while touching my pinkie.
Marcus just looks at me and runs his big dark hands down his face. “First things first, Lyla; let’s get you out of here, and then we’ll figure everything else out somehow.”
With anyone else I would get defensive and my bitch mode would switch on and I would say how I can do everything myself and don’t need anyone, but this is Marcus and I’ve never felt more lost in my whole life so I just nod my head and get inside the cab as he holds the door for me.
“So, you want to start at the beginning here, babe? ’Cause I just talked to you the other day and you raved about how well everything was going. What changed and what the hell is this embezzlement bullshit?” Marcus says from beside me in the cab, shaking his head.
I start at the beginning and retell him how I met Howard at business convention, we knew a lot of the same people and when I asked around about him he was highly praised for helping other businesses climb the market. Not long after opening night everything was going exactly the way he promised, and I let him take over all the finances without checking on it myself. I trusted him completely and never once looked at the books just kept my nose in the kitchen until I was brought into the station by Chicago’s finest. While my heart bleeds all over the taxi that smells like body odor, we ride around the city not knowing where to go. An hour later, I’m even more exhausted and the cab fare is at $200.
“Can we find a rock for me to crawl under? I’m so tired and overwhelmed right now.”
“Yeah, of course. I would also like the detective’s number and the names you said you gave him. I’ll see what options we have,” he says as he shrugs his shoulders. He looks as tired as I feel, and I’m so grateful he came all this way for me.
“Marcus, thank you so much for being here. I’m really sorry you stopped what I’m sure was important, just to come rescue me. I won’t ever forget it,” I say with tears filling the corners of my eyes. Damn it.
“Well, good thing I meant it when I said call me if you need anything,” he says with a big grin on his face.
“Sir, could you take us to the Marriott downtown, please.”
“Yes! Fuckin finally, bro,” the young driver says, clearly annoyed instead of happy about the high fare. When we arrive, Marcus pays, and we get two rooms. Well, Marcus gets two rooms. I was a five-star chef in one of the biggest cities in the world with a loaded bank account and even a few investments in real estate. I had a plan and life was great. I had everything I ever wanted, and now I have to start all over and be grateful that I’m not behind bars. This isn’t fair. It fucking sucks. But the room is perfect. Cold and dark. I’m so excited I silently hug Marcus and head straight to the bed. What I wouldn’t give to wake up tomorrow and have this whole situation just be some kind of awful nightmare.
“Good night,” I hear as he closes the door.
“Ugh! What do you want? Leave me be,” I grumble as Marcus swiftly yanks the hotel comforter off. “Oh, you, sir, are an asshole,” I say, pathetically grabbing for the blankets that are now on the floor. It is far too early in the morning and I still have a headache from all the feeling I had to deal with yesterday. Far too much for someone who likes to burry such things and move through life pretending everything’s perfect. Hard to do when someone shatters the glass house and shows the entire world your really just a sad little girl who should never tried to dream.
“Get your ass up. We got a game plan that starts with a four-p.m. flight to your fresh start in sunny San Diego,” he says with a mischievous grin stretched across his handsome face.
“What the actual fuck?” I say skeptically as I fully wake up and sit up.
“You heard me. Your boy saves the day again. I talked to your detective and even had to sign some papers he sent over, but you are officially my bitch and—”
He doesn’t get to finish that sentence before I’m up at his side, punching his shoulders as many times as I can, hoping my repeated hits might hurt a little bit.
“Ow, ow, ow. Okay. Okay. You know I only said that to get you out of bed. You are in no way my bitch, and I love and respect you. I’m also going to take care of you. I did get that old man to let me take you to another state which is huge so he must be building a solid case. Anyway, I’m taking you home, and we will figure this shit out.”
“Eeeeekkkkkk!” I squeal, smiling at my best friend and hero. “Dude, are you serious? Messing with me right now would be considered cruel, you know.”
Before he has a chance to say anything there’s a knock on the door. “Room Service” a man from the other side says.
“Marcus, you are my hero,” I say in a loud and excited voice. My phone rings from my purse on the floor. Pulling it out, I see it’s Charlie calling. My dear sweet friend who is so shy and possibly the opposite of me. From the first day we met I’ve never met a girl more my soulmate then her and I know whenever I can’t talk to Marcus, she’s always got my back.
“Hello, Charlie Brown.”
“Lyla! Thank you for fi
nally answering your phone! I’ve been so worried. Marcus ran out of here so fast you’d think a woman was chasing him.” She laughs. Clearly, Marcus called her and told her what’s up or she wouldn’t be joking.
“That would have been funny to watch, had that actually been the reason he left.” I sigh.
“He called and told me everything last night. I’m so sorry, Lyla. I can’t believe this is all happening. It’s not fair. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Charlie says in her quiet little voice.
“I know that, and you and M know that, but the United States government is still undecided. Luckily, it does seem like I might have a detective on my side, so hopefully I can still escape to Cali like Marcus was just telling me he agreed to. Apparently, I’m going to be Marcus’ bitch, but if he can save me from this shitshow, I’ll be his wingman for the rest of his boner-filled days. I will single-handedly fill his pussy calendar with more ladies than even he will know what to do with.” I laugh as I see Marcus smirk and shake his head at me. Charlie’s laughing hard through the phone.
“Hey, don’t pee your pants now, Charlie. And don’t worry about me. I’m finally coming back home, and it’ll be a great fresh start. I’m innocent and I know Detective Graves will prove it and everything will be fine.”
Whiskey and Honey: Can a forbidden fling be real love? (The Empire Records Series Book 1) Page 1