by Jen Talty
Nightshade
USA Today Bestseller
Jen Talty
Contents
Nightshade
Praise for Jen Talty
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Epilogue
Books by Jen Talty
About the Author
Nightshade
A Family Affair Novella, Book One
JEN TALTY
USA Today Bestselling Author
COPYRIGHT © 2018 by Jen Talty
PUBLISHED BY JUPITER PRESS
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author or Jupiter press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Publishing History
Originally published in Fidelity Kindle World 2018
Published as part of the SWEET AND SASSY IN THE SNOW boxset 2019
Praise for Jen Talty
"I positively loved In Two Weeks, and highly recommend it. The writing is wonderful, the story is fantastic, and the characters will keep you coming back for more. I can't wait to get my hands on future installments of the NYS Troopers series." Long and Short Reviews
"In Two Weeks hooks the reader from page one. This is a fast paced story where the development of the romance grabs you emotionally and the suspense keeps you sitting on the edge of your chair. Great characters, great writing, and a believable plot that can be a warning to all of us." Desiree Holt, USA Today Bestseller
"Dark Water delivers an engaging portrait of wounded hearts as the memorable characters take you on a healing journey of love. A mysterious death brings danger and intrigue into the drama, while sultry passions brew into a believable plot that melts the reader's heart. Jen Talty pens an entertaining romance that grips the heart as the colorful and dangerous story unfolds into a chilling ending." Night Owl Reviews
"This is not the typical love story, nor is it the typical mystery. The characters are well rounded and interesting." You Gotta Read Reviews
"Deadly Secrets is the best of romance and suspense in one hot read!" NYT Bestselling Author Jennifer Probst
"A charming setting and a steamy couple heat up the pages in an suspenseful story I couldn't put down!" NY Times and USA today Bestselling Author Donna Grant
"Murder in Paradise Bay is a fast-paced romantic thriller with plenty of twists and turns to keep you guessing until the end. You won't want to miss this one..." USA Today bestselling author Janice Maynard
Prologue
One month ago…
Bronx, NY
California Banister, or Cali as everyone called her, pressed her hands firmly on the tabletop as she sucked in a deep breath. One half of her wanted to reach across the table and squeeze the life out of the sleazeball sitting across from her.
The other half wanted to lecture her parents on reading the fine print, only she knew the asshole who’d talked them into this partnership had made sure they buried the clause, using complicated legal speak so deep into the contract that it would most likely take a seasoned attorney to find it and recommend her parents not sign it. Of course, that would mean they were given the time to consult someone…anyone. However, Mr. Thompson, the mob’s muscle disguised as a kind businessman, put the fear of God in her parents.
“I think I’m being very generous in my offer,” Mr. Thompson, the sleazeball, said with a condescending smile that made Cali wish she didn’t understand the penalty for premeditated murder.
“I want it in writing,” she said, holding her ground.
Thompson frowned.
She cleared her throat. “A simple contract that I’ll have my attorney draw up that will null and void my parents’ current contract if I pay you two hundred and fifty thousand by the end of the year.” That gave her eleven months to sell her soul to the devil. But she’d do anything to make sure her parents didn’t lose their family restaurant to some jerk-off who gave them a loan, knowing the stipulation that if they went under a certain earning level, he’d be able to buy them out for pennies, essentially kicking them out of their own business with very little to show for it.
“Why don’t you let us draw up the contract?” Thompson cocked his head, giving her a kind smile. The man sure did know how to turn on the charm. “We don’t want to worry your pretty little—”
“I’ll have the paperwork sent over to your office by morning.” They had no idea she’d be drafting the document herself. Even though she was kissing a career as a lawyer down the tubes before she even set foot in law school, making sure her parents kept their business would be well worth it.
“Mr. Carlucci was hoping we’d have all this cleared up today,” Thompson said.
“One more day isn’t going to harm your boss much.” Cali had a four-year degree in political science, though it took her six years to get, and she figured in one year, after her contract as an employee of Nightshade Corporation, she’d be able to find a decent job, if she wasn’t arrested for prostitution first.
She swallowed the thick lump that formed in her throat. If her parents knew her role at Nightshade as a companion, they’d fall dead of heartache and shame. However, the twenty thousand a month living expenses to keep wealthy men company took the sting out.
But not the bile that sloshed about her gut like a category five hurricane. She reminded herself that these men would buy her gifts that she could sell and give her cash she could pocket. She figured she’d have the money with a day or two to spare.
She just hoped she got some old man who just wanted a pretty face, and sex wouldn’t be part of the equation. Or if the latter was required, she only hoped she could live with herself afterward.
“If you don’t get us the money by December thirty-first, everything gets turned over to Mr. Carlucci.”
“But if I get it to you, my parents buy the restaurant back for the price of one dollar.”
Talk about a gamble. Right now, her parents could walk away with twenty-five grand, which was a shitty-ass deal to begin with, but better than if she failed.
Failure was not an option.
One month ago…
Scarsdale, NY
William Xavier Sumner III, better known as Xavier, paced in the hallway outside of his father’s home office. It had been three years since he’d sat on the other side of the old man’s desk while his father chopped up his credit cards and depleted his trust fund all in the name of forcing Xavier to show the old man he had what it took to be successful as an investigative journalist, versus joining the family business. At twenty-four, he’d landed a book agent and had his first proposal in a bidding war with three different well-known publishers, getting him a hefty first advance.
At twenty-five, his first book hit the NY Times list, which had been the icing on the cake.
He’d achieved most of the goals he’d set out in his four-year plan, a year early.
Now he was sitting on potentially the largest story about organized crime and its connection to the Nightshade Corporation, which Xavier had on good authority, ran a high-end men’s club. He choked on the thought. No matter how you dressed it up, Nightshade ran a prostitution ring. All Xavier needed to do was prove that the women employed were with their assigned men under duress.
And that they were paid for sex.
But he needed his father’s help.
And his money.
The heavy, mahogany door pushed open into the hallway. His father waved him in. His mother and youngest sister, Finley, now a freshman in college, double majoring in finance and economics, sat on t
he sofa to the right of the desk, leaving Xavier to sit in the wing-back across from the desk.
His little sister had her long, strawberry-blond hair pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck. Her dark-rimmed glasses, which made her look much older, were perched on her nose while she scanned a document. His mother sat with her legs crossed at the ankle and smiled. Her brown hair was cut short to her chin and while she had a few wrinkles around the eyes, she didn’t look a day over forty, making her look more like Finley’s sister instead of her mother.
Xavier took his seat and awaited his fate.
“Interesting proposal,” his father said, rocking back in his oversized chair. “I’m no longer surprised why you had us sign a non-disclosure agreement before sharing it with us.”
“This could be the biggest story of my career. My sources tell me that many of the women who are employed as escorts are doing so only because they owe Carlucci and his band of cronies money. Even when they pay off their debts, they are held in strict contracts with the men who basically buy them.”
“Have you seen the contracts?” his father asked. “What is the term agreement?”
“I’ve only seen parts of them, but it starts at a year. Sex is not stipulated, but the document clearly states that it’s allowed if both parties are agreeable. However, my source tells me it’s expected, and those that don’t do as they are told, well, some go missing, some end up dead, and some end up beaten into submission. One woman I interviewed said she was allowed out of her contract after she called the police, but only if she signed a two-year contract with a different gentleman. Because her family owed a shit ton of money to the mob, she did it.” Xavier revisited the urge to stand and pace. Something he did often while talking through a story. Instead, he snapped his fingers, cracking his knuckles and ignoring his mother’s glare.
“Is this woman your source?” his father asked with an arched brow and a tickle of a smile.
“She’s stopped all communication with me since signing that new contract. All I can tell you about my source is they work inside Nightshade. I’m confident if you help me with this, I can bring down the biggest prostitution and human-trafficking ring this state has ever seen.”
“Messing with the mafia is a dangerous game,” his little sister said as if she’d had any real-world experience with them, which she hadn’t. But she did understand the game of chance; statistically speaking, he was playing in a high-stakes game of poker.
“Leaving it alone, knowing what I know, would be turning my back on a major crime. I can’t do that,” Xavier said with a tight tone. Knowing that Susan Carl had agreed to be shifted to another rich man to be used, or sold to some whacko overseas, made his blood boil. Susan hadn’t been any older than twenty-two and behind her badly beaten face, he had seen a pretty young woman who had her innocence stripped. What happened to her would change who she was forever, and Xavier didn’t want that to happen to anyone else.
“Is that the only reason you’re doing it?”
“That’s the driving force, but all know this is the kind of story that publishers would pay a million as an advance,” Xavier said, trying to hide the anxiety coating his words like a thick layer of fog. “And win me some major publishing and journalism awards.”
“It could destroy your career, and you as well,” his little sister said, peeking over her glasses. “Not to mention cause you bodily harm. I go to school with Trish Leonardi.”
“Who is she?” his mother asked.
“Her mother is cousins with Carlucci. Trish always said she had no ties to the mob, but based on the some of the stories she told us about shakedowns and the removal of fingers as a warning, we figured she had some intimate working knowledge of Carlucci’s organization.”
“I hope you are exaggerating,” his mother said, slack-jawed, staring at her youngest child.
“She is,” Xavier said, giving his sister a sideways glance. Finley might be super book-smart and great with numbers, but she didn’t have the best read on people.
And she had no filter, something she’d have to work on if she was going to take over the family business.
“It’s not the days of leaving horse heads under sheets. More money laundering and not dumping bodies in the Hudson,” Xavier said.
“Mom watches too much television,” his father said with a nod and a bit of a scowl.
The Carluccis weren’t the kind of gangsters movies were made out of, but they weren’t to be taken lightly either.
“I know I’m asking for a lot, but if this works, I’ll be able to pay it back in spades,” Xavier said, sitting on his hands to keep them from shaking. This was worse than when he’d put a small dent in the driver door on the Lamborghini the one and only time he took it out without his father’s permission.
“I’m not worried about the money,” his father said, staring at the ceiling. “I’ve watched your career, and I have to say I’m more than impressed. You’re really good at what you do.”
“As if you had any doubt,” his mother chimed in with a smile and a wave of her hand. “You told me the day he turned you down—”
“Dear, let’s stick with the current situation.”
His father’s approval meant the world to Xavier. He’d hated disappointing the old man, so knowing his choice of careers left his father with a sense of pride eased the tension in Xavier’s muscles.
“Do you really think this story is that big?” his father asked. “Worthy of taking such a huge risk? You’re only twenty-five. Your career has barely begun.” The way his father narrowed his eyes, Xavier knew he understood the potential for bodily harm but didn’t want to say anything in front of Xavier’s mother, something Xavier appreciated.
“Best case scenario is I blow the Carluccis and Nightshade out of the water. That will land me more than a big fat advance. The potential for a television documentary would be huge and something I’d love to be involved in. The worst case is I move on to another story,” he said. Only there was no way in hell he’d move on. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and Xavier was taking the bull by the horns.
His father tried to conceal a smile by running his hand over his mouth, his thumb and forefinger gliding over the corners. “You can use the house in Montauk. It will be freezing, since it’s winter, but I’ll have the staff turn everything on. I also want your word that you will leave the security cameras on.”
“Not inside the house, I won’t,” Xavier answered a little too quickly. “Oh my,” his mother mumbled. “I hadn’t thought about what might be—”
“Mom,” Xavier said with heat rushing to his cheeks. “I don’t plan on taking advantage of the young lady. You raised me better than that, but I can’t be worried about you all checking in on me. That’s just too weird.”
“You can turn the monitoring off, but I’d feel better if you kept them running internally. You can check them in my office. That way you can see what she might be up to, or if she has any of the other employees over. We do have a fair amount of valuables.”
“I don’t like the sound of this,” his mother said, shaking her head.
“I’ll be safe.” Xavier glanced at his mother with a reassuring smile. “First sign of trouble, I’ll hit the panic button.” Now it was time to ask one more favor that might not go over very well. “I’m hoping this doesn’t take but a month.” He left out that once he selected a female to be his companion, the contract was for a year, but he’d deal with that once the story broke. “But I really need to play the part, if you know what I mean.”
His father held out his hand. “You can use the private jet. I’ll set you up with a credit card, but I will expect you to pay that back.”
“I really appreciate that, Dad. I intend on paying you back every penny. The key is to make it look like I’ve got millions.”
“That’s the easy part,” his sister said. “The hard part will be if you can pull off the lifestyle anymore.”
He waggled his finger at his little sister. “A
little humility goes a long way.”
His father laughed. “It’s so nice to hear my children repeat my own words.”
1
Present day…
“WELCOME TO THE VIP LOUNGE, MR. SUMNER,” Rick Oppenheim said. “We are so excited to have someone of your stature joining us.”
“I’m looking forward to finding the perfect lady. My life has been so hectic since my first book came out that I don’t have five minutes to even swipe left or right or whatever that is on those stupid dating apps.”
Rick slapped Xavier on the shoulder. “Not to mention we do all the screening for you.” Rick pushed open a set of double doors that led from the main lounge to a private room.
The stench of cigar smoke filled his throat and lungs. All of his frat buddies, as well as his friends from the country club, would occasionally light up a nice Cuban cigar. But Xavier could never tolerate them. He covered his mouth, breathing slowly, trying not to gag and cough. That wouldn’t be too smooth.
“What can I get you to drink?” Rick asked.
“Scotch neat, please.” His father’s drink, but it seemed fitting. A beer probably wouldn’t have gone over well based on all the men in the room, swirling their whiskey glasses.
“Have a seat in that back booth over there.”