Dirty Debt

by Lauren Landish

  Just hearing him talk to me like that turns me on even more, and with a cry, I shatter. Shaking, I whimper as my orgasm ripples through me, Ryker pulling me tightly to him. He presses my body to his as he thrusts his cock against me, prolonging my orgasm even separated by layers of fabric. I’m boneless, suddenly exhausted from all the drama and tension, and of course, the amazing orgasm I just had in the back of a moving car. Ryker holds me, returning to running his hands through my hair.

  It’s minutes later before I feel time start up again and the hum of traffic outside the darkened windows. It doesn’t matter. Ryker holds me secure as he helps me fix my bra and top. When I’m more or less put together again, he strokes my cheek with the back of his hand, looking deep into my eyes. “We’ve got this, Sarah. Everything’s gonna be fine. Okay?”

  I smile, cupping his cheek. “As long as you’re with me, I know I’ll be safe.”

  Chapter 20

  Ryker

  After the tense morning meeting, I tried to get Sarah to reschedule the appointment with the lawyer, but she wasn’t having it, saying she’d rather get everything done in one fell swoop and deal with the fallout later. Riding the elevator up to the penthouse, I can hardly believe that this is the same scared, shaken woman I met just a few weeks ago.

  Sure, she’s still got issues from Jacob, some of which she may never fully recover from. But right now, watching her as she gives me a shy little smile across the empty elevator, all I can think is, that’s my girl, strong and resilient, even more so than she realizes.

  “What’re you thinking about?”

  I chuckle, leaning against the side of the elevator. “That you played the Chief like a fiddle. And afterward . . .”

  “Yeah well, if this elevator were any slower, I’d see if we could get a repeat performance in here,” Sarah teases. “I know you want to see me in my old schoolgirl skirt from the show.”

  “And just how would you know about that?”

  Sarah laughs. “You sometimes talk in your sleep, especially if someone is talking back. One night, I woke up from a nightmare, and you were talking in your sleep. I didn’t wake you. I just started talking and you mumbled back.”

  I feel heat creep up my neck. “What else did I say?”

  Sarah gives me a mysterious smile, biting her lip. “Nothing bad or I’d have said something.”

  We get to the penthouse, and my cock is raging in my pants, but now isn’t the time. We’ve only got twenty minutes until the lawyer gets here, and neither of us has had anything to eat since a light breakfast. Thankfully, there’s a note on the fridge.

  You tell anyone about this, and I get mad- K.

  “Tell anyone about what?” I ask, opening the fridge and seeing two plates of sandwiches, complete with pickles.

  “Did she get this from a deli or something?” Sarah asks as I take out the plates. “They look delish.”

  “Nope, no deli is around this building. And these are our plates,” I note, unwrapping the plastic from my plate. “BATC. Bacon, avocado, turkey and cheese. My favorite.”

  “This one’s a club,” Sarah notes. Picking up the pickle, she crunches in, nodding her approval.

  “Okay, no matter what, I’m taking that girl shopping. She doesn’t have to get heels or a dress. I don’t care. Maybe I’ll even take her to a salon.”

  I chuckle. That’ll be the day. “Okay. Just don’t be surprised if she causes a scene.”

  “We both might,” Sarah jokes. We tear into our lunches, eating as we lean over the counter to keep the dining room table clean. Knowing there will likely be paperwork to go over, we want that space clear and open. There’s a buzz from the lobby just as we finish up, and I go over, checking the video intercom.

  “Hello?”

  The man who’s waiting looks the part of a lawyer, and not a legal eagle type either. With round-rimmed glasses, a receding hairline, and a gray suit, he looks just like Marcus told me when we investigated him. Patrick Green is your normal run-of-the-mill lawyer. “Mr. Johns? My name’s Patrick Green. I have an appointment.”

  “Come on up,” I say, reaching into the closet next to the alcove and quickly opening the gun safe I have in there. It’s keyed to my fingerprint, and I normally always carry the Beretta, except this morning, with going to Police Plaza and all.

  When the elevator dings, the pistol’s inside my coat in a belt holster, but Green’s alone, looking slightly nervous as he steps out. His briefcase is far too skinny to have a gun in it, and the way he’s walking, I don’t think he’s a threat. Still, it doesn’t hurt to be safe, and I don’t let my guard down until he’s sitting at the table. He opens his case, revealing a thin file folder and an iPad. Sarah comes out of the bathroom, where she was brushing her teeth quickly, giving him a smile. “Mr. Green?”

  “Mrs. . . . sorry, I forgot. You wish to be called Miss Desjardins,” Green says, blushing slightly. I remain standing, watching them quietly from the kitchen counter where I can see everything Green’s doing, even under the table. “I’m glad you agreed to meet with me. The sooner I can get your signatures on some paperwork, the faster we can get Jacob Waters’s estate through the probate courts.”

  I lean back, not relaxing but looking that way as Green opens his file folder. Sarah seems sure there won’t be any problems because she just doesn’t care about Jacob’s money. But I wouldn’t put it past that jerk to have done some crazy shit in his will just to fuck her over from the grave. And after Chief Matthews’s obvious fandom of Jacob, I’m reserving judgment on this guy for now.

  Green reaches into his coat, but he’s out a moment later with a pair of gel ball pens. “All right, Miss Desjardins—”

  Sarah smiles, shaking her head. “Please, call me Sarah. Thanks for the respect, but I’d rather keep this casual.”

  “Of course . . . Sarah,” Green says with a hesitant smile. He glances at me, and I can see he knows my reputation but is professional enough to not let it get to him too much. “Well, Jacob Waters’s estate is rather straightforward considering the size. Is there anything specific you’re concerned about before we begin going line-by-line?”

  Sarah leans forward, taking the papers and looking through them quickly. “Uh, no. Mr. Green, I honestly don’t know anything about Jacob’s money. He didn’t discuss finances with me at all, so I’m not sure what to expect.”

  Green raises an eyebrow, but his voice doesn’t shake at all. “Well, that does change things a bit. Stop me if you have any questions as we work through the accounts because there are quite a few.”

  Sarah looks a little overwhelmed and gives me a little glance. “Okay. I guess I didn’t realize it was going to be that complicated.”

  Green looks at Sarah, obviously appraising her, looking for something. I watch him carefully too, noting that he’s not studying Sarah like so many other people have. After a moment, he seems to see what he wants and smiles genuinely. “Of course. That’s what I’m here for. If I may say, I didn’t know your husband well. I came to be of service to him when my daughter got into some trouble a few years ago. I’ll admit, Mr. Waters agreed to write off some debts she had in return for my work on his estate. He always seemed rather . . . intimidating and hard, if I may say so.”

  He looks at Sarah questioningly, obviously assessing whether his opinion has offended her. I can easily see what he’s asking for, and if it were me, I’d be more than happy to grant it. But it’s Sarah’s call.

  I shouldn’t have worried. “Look, Mr. Green, Jacob was a cruel and forbidding man,” Sarah says, shivering slightly. “He wasn’t even a man. He was a monster. I’m just as glad to be out from under his thumb as you obviously are now. I’m guessing you’d like to be done with this whole mess, so walk me through it and then you can consider yourself free of any debt your daughter might have owed to Jacob.”

  A look of relief washes over Green’s face at Sarah’s words. He nods, the corners of his mouth tilting up in a faint smile as he turns on his iPad.

&n
bsp; Green copies over the files to a flash drive so she can have a digital copy, and the two of them begin going through Jacob Waters’s will, taking the time to reference the dozens of bank statements, business reports, real estate holdings, safe deposit box inventory lists, and other documents that detailed Jacob Waters’s legal financial life. It’s overwhelming, but Sarah listens to it all attentively. “I can’t believe I’m gonna have to figure out what to do with all of Jacob’s blood money.”

  “That’s just a drop in the bucket,” I admit, speaking up. “No offense to Mr. Green, but there’s a lot more that Jacob never had in his name. There’s at least twice that much out there that’s not on any account book that’ll see the light of day.”

  Sarah swallows, and I know I’ll have to outline to her more about what I know, but this isn’t the time. Instead, she turns her attention back to Mr. Green and Jacob’s will. The final tally is staggering, over fifty million dollars to allocate, manage, and assign. There’s a silence in the room as everyone processes, and Sarah stills as Mr. Green eyes her. “Miss Desjardins, I’m not an investment banker, but with this amount of money, you could live very comfortably off even the interest of a simple savings account. That may not matter much to you right now, but for all intents and purposes, you are free. Totally free.”

  Sarah looks up, smiling that soft smile that I’ve come to recognize as Sarah’s thoughtful smile. “Mr. Green, you can say no, but you seem well-versed in this estate. I wonder if you might consider allowing me to hire you to work with my money manager to get this coordinated? Your standard attorney rate would apply. And any debt your daughter may have owed Jacob and any coercion he may have used to get you to work for him is done, as far as I’m concerned.”

  Green gulps at the gift that’s been dropped into his lap, both in letting go of the debt and the potential continued work with the estate. His eyes move slowly from Sarah to me and back again. I can tell that he’s a man of conscience, and the idea of working with someone still involved in criminal activity worries him. “That is a kind offer, but I have to admit—”

  I raise a hand, getting his attention. “Mr. Green, your work for Sarah would be totally above-board and legal.”

  He gives me a grateful nod and turns back to Sarah. “Then I’d be happy to stay on to help you sort through and get everything situated the way you’d like. Do you have any ideas on what you’d like to do with the money?”

  She sits back for a moment, her gaze dropping to her lap as her brain obviously whirls. She looks at me, and I come over, sitting down and taking her hand. “Sarah, it’s yours. Every bloody red cent. You decide what you want to do, what you need to do, and I’ll support that. No pressure or opinion here.”

  She smiles, making her decision as she turns back to Green, nodding. “I do have an idea. I want to start a charity to help victims of domestic violence. Talk with your friend, of course, and invest it so that there’s a nest egg, I suppose, just in case. But I want to explore a lot of options. Maybe a shelter, with medical treatment and occupational training for the women, legal help for restraining orders and divorces, and therapists to help them deal with what they’ve been through. Whatever they need to get out, get safe, and start fresh.”

  Mr. Green stares slack-jawed at her, and when he finally speaks again, his voice is thick with emotion. “That sounds rather . . . altruistic. I happen to specialize in tax law, so I’d be delighted to help make that a reality. ”

  I lean back, pretending I’ve got something in my eye to hide the feelings that I’ve got right now. I’m so proud of her that I wish I could fucking give her a round of applause. She’s amazing. In a situation where nobody would fault her for taking Jacob Waters’s money and running away to the farthest corner of the world to relax away the rest of her life on a beach, she turns it all down. Yeah, she knows that I’ve got money and I’ll take care of her, but she has no idea how much I have. I certainly have nowhere near what Jacob had. But she just puts her faith in me and in our future as she attempts to help women who suffered through what she did. No wonder I love her.

  With a few signatures and a promise of future appoints to set up the charity and handle the financials with the money guy Marcus knows, we’re soon alone. Sarah goes over to the sofa, collapsing on it as I sit at the other end, picking up her foot and massaging it. She lifts her head, her eyes filled with concern. “What do you think? Am I crazy?”

  I keep rubbing her feet, shaking my head. “What I just watched is another reason I love you. Most people would hear cash registers ringing—cha-ching, cha-ching—when someone says they have that kind of money coming their way. I admire what you’re doing. Your foundation, charity, whatever you want to call it, I have a feeling it’s going to do a lot of good around here.”

  Sarah sits up, entwining her fingers with mine as she turns around to lean against me, resting her head on my chest. “I love you. More than you know. I would go through that hell with Jacob a thousand times over if it got me here with you like this.”

  Chapter 21

  Sarah

  It feels a little strange as I look around the hotel ballroom, visually measuring the space for tables, a dance floor, and a stage. It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything public as myself. When Jacob was alive, it was always all about him. I was arm candy and never had the opportunity to speak to the public. Now, I’m planning on a big coming-out party for the Broken Angel Foundation, the name that I decided on with a little help from Kendra, of all people. Too bad she isn’t the kind for this sort of event.

  Still, I need to go public with all the pain I went through, and the Foundation is the best way to do it. With a smile, I decide this room is just perfect, and I give a nod to Nikolas, the best event planner in the city. “Nikolas, this is it. This is where the Foundation starts.”

  Nikolas, a great roly-poly bear of a man who’s put on parties for everyone from Katy Perry to the Queen of Norway, nods excitedly. “Agreed. We’ll get the date reserved and begin booking the vendors for a rush gig.”

  I chuckle at Nikolas’s thinking of it as a rush gig. I get it, he normally works with timelines of ‘this time next year,’ but the past two months have been nearly excruciating to me. With most of Jacob’s estate tied up in probate court as the governmental cronies who are still smarting over his death drag their heels, I’ve felt like the past month’s been a decade long. Thankfully, not all of Jacob’s assets are off-limits to me, and Ryker’s been more than helpful. “Nikolas, I’m sure if anyone can get it done, it’s you.”

  He puffs out his chest, threatening to burst the buttons on his shirt, smiling. “Planning a gala in three months’ time is crazy, to be quite frank, but yes, if anyone can do it, I can. Now are you sure about getting a crowd?”

  I nod, smiling. “You know, I was worried at first, but it’s that time of year in Hollywood where there’s no awards shows on the calendar but everyone wants to keep themselves on the front page. And surprisingly, more than a few of my old Hollywood associates are willing to make an appearance.”

  Nikolas grins. “Then first things first. Invitations will go out within a week so we can get on everyone’s social calendar. Can you get me a list of guests you’re inviting by then?”

  “I’ll have it sent over by the end of the day,” I reply, grinning.

  Nikolas nods before basically twirling away from me, phone already to his ear, listing out orders as he walks out to set the date with the hotel representative. It’s funny to watch a man who’s about as wide as he is tall move so gracefully, almost waltzing around the space as his creative mind already imagines things that will exist here in three months.

  With a smile, I head outside, the excitement of making the foundation a reality buzzing around me in a happy cloud. There’s still a ways to go. I barely have access to a million of Jacob’s money, but it’s a start.

  “I wish Ryker were here,” I murmur to myself as I give the grand ballroom a final look before going out into the lobby. He wante
d to come, but today is about the Foundation, and I wanted to test my strength. Since Jacob’s death, I’ve had Ryker, Marcus, or Kendra everywhere I’ve gone. I want to make sure that, before I put myself forward as a survivor, I’ve actually survived. So I insisted on coming down here by myself, taking a taxi from the penthouse.

  As I cross the lobby, I think about all that I still have to do. Mr. Green set up a meeting with the local archdiocese, and they’ve got a property that he says can be turned into the shelter site. “It’s a good deal,” he told me yesterday. “The archbishop gets to do more charity work, and they also get to partially offload a building that they couldn’t do anything with.”

  I understand that part, at least. Most of the big Hollywood movies nowadays are collaborations between studios, everyone pitching in to be able to claim part of the glory or to defray the costs of a bomb. I’m hoping the meeting goes well and we can get the construction crews in the building to take care of renovations within the next few weeks. Winter is coming, sooner than the weather would lead me to believe, and I want the shelter open before the holidays, if possible.

  Leaving the hotel, I’m walking around the corner, lost in my mental checklist of what I still have to accomplish over the next few days to make sure this charity ball gets off on the right foot, when I feel a cold hand on my shoulder. I spin around to see a broad-shouldered man who’s nearly bursting out of his suit. In his mid-fifties, he’s got the almost visible aura of dangerousness that I’ve come to detect in too many people in my life. He’s eye to eye with me, but considering that I’m over six feet in the heels I’m wearing today, he’s not short at all. He’s crowding into me, sneering as he stares at me with a familiar distaste that I’d hoped I’d never see again.