“He didn’t even tell us he was considering taking time away. Just called a meeting and boom, Mulaney’s CEO.” The pressure in my head diminished as I unleashed all my pent-up frustration. “Easton says Dad did it so we could spend more time with Mama too.”
“What if that was your father’s rationale?” She rubbed her thumb across my cheek, her calm a stark contrast to my fury.
“He could’ve at least tossed it around with the three of us.” I held her tight against me, needing her strength. “That was the final straw. I’d already started siphoning money and manipulating EXODUS at that point, but her being named CEO was the catalyst to speed up the timetable. If they were going to blow me off about everything, I’d destroy what was so precious to all of them and make it look like the company’s failure was her fault in the process.”
As the words came out, I realized how petty that was. I’d been a jealous child in a grown man’s body. But the way my family had embraced Mulaney still bothered me. It was like they chose her over me. Every. Single. Time. But when did that start?
“You ever think about letting go of your grudge?”
“Would you?” We worked in tandem, soaping and washing one another with the efficiency of a couple who’d been doing it for years.
“Depends on why I was pissed off.” She rinsed the last of the suds off. “There is a fine line between hurting others and hurting yourself. Most of the time when I’ve harbored bad feelings toward someone, it was me who suffered the most.”
“So if I could move on, how should I go about fixing it?”
“I don’t know if you can.” She tossed me a towel before taking one of her own off the rack. “But I’d start with a sincere apology. If you can’t give them that, there’s really no point in saying it.”
“I don’t see this going anywhere very fast.”
“Yeah. Saying ‘I’m sorry’ is practically impossible for me too.” With slow, purposeful strokes, she dried herself. “Pack the extra towels in our bag. These are a hell of a lot better than the ones we have.”
“You don’t think they’ll notice they’re missing?”
“I don’t care.” She flipped her hair over and wrapped the towel around it. “Hey, I know. We’ll bring ours back up here. Then we didn’t steal; we just traded.”
“I’m going to have to take inventory.” There was no telling what my little kleptomaniac would take, and none of it mattered. I just like aggravating her.
“I don’t want your family photos or your granny’s quilt.”
“That quilt holds some good memories for us.” I put my arms around her from behind, resting my chin on her shoulder. Her eyes met mine in the mirror. God only knew what was about to come out of that mouth.
“I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but you make a good point.” She wrinkled her nose as if that were difficult to admit. “Speaking of family photos . . . do you have a sister?”
I cocked my head. “No. Why would you think that?”
“The picture in your wallet. There’s another woman besides your mom, but it’s impossible to see her face.”
I froze. Shit. “You shouldn’t go around snooping in people’s personal stuff.”
“Who is it?” She was like a dog with a bone.
“My ex-girlfriend.”
“You had a girlfriend?” she asked incredulously. “And you still carry a family photo with her in it?”
“Why is that so hard to believe?” I loosened my hold, but she clamped her hands over mine on her stomach.
“You don’t seem like the commitment type.” My tigress, the keen observer of humanity.
“I’m not anymore.”
Knowing dawned on her face. “She’s why you don’t.” She tapped her finger on top of mine. “That picture is old.”
“She dumped me in the hospital after the doctors’ diagnosis ensured I’d never play again.” The vivid image of her standing in the door to my hospital room was as fresh as if it had happened five minutes ago. As doped up on pain meds as I’d been, they did nothing to cover the pain.
I’m supposed to be a baseball player’s wife.
“What a bitch move.” Sonya’s jaw worked and those eyes flashed with anger on my behalf.
“Yeah, well—”
“You’re not over it.”
“I learn from my mistakes. Don’t fall for women who only want baseball players.” A bitter sound escaped me. “Don’t fall for anyone at all.”
Sympathy mixed with understanding stared back at me. “I’m so—”
“Don’t say you’re sorry.” My arms tightened around her of their own accord. “I lost baseball and the woman I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with on the same day. Shit happens.”
“It’s her loss.”
Then why am I the one who’s suffered most?
Sonya wiggled out of my arms and marched to the dresser. She opened my wallet and proceeded to rip Erin out of the old photograph. Then she dug in my pants pocket until she produced my lighter.
She handed it to me and held the sliver of photo over it. “Be done with it.”
I hesitated with my thumb on the igniter. Forgetting what Erin had done couldn’t be as simple as sending her picture up in flames.
But it was worth a shot.
The small strip with her image burned in seconds. Sonya held it until nothing was left, even when the fire touched her skin. She dumped the ashes in the trash.
Something about the gesture loosened some knot inside me that had been tied tight for decades. Strange.
I yanked Sonya against me until our bodies were flush and kissed her forehead.
She’d given me the strength to do things I never would have otherwise. She made me want things I swore I’d never think about again.
“I thought you stormed into my life to steal something, but the damnedest thing has happened. You’re giving me a hell of a lot more than you take.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Drew
“Is it too early for something stronger?”
Easton abandoned the coffeepot he’d started. “Follow me.” We went into the dining room to the bar cart that held a variety of liquors, including a Mason jar I recognized. “How strong?” Easton held up a bottle of whiskey and the jar of Grandma Carter’s moonshine.
“I’m surprised you still drink that stuff,” I said, stifling a laugh.
“Me too.”
In middle school, when we’d visited Grandma Carter, we weren’t allowed in the house except at mealtime. She’d insisted we play outside, that boys needed to spend their days with Mother Nature. We’d run around, playing baseball all afternoon. Easton had charged into the house, sweaty and thirsty, and grabbed the Mason jar off the kitchen counter, downing nearly half before he realized he’d swallowed gasoline.
“You were as drunk as Cooter Brown, and Grandma Carter couldn’t say a word to you about it because Granddaddy would have known she was nipping the sauce.”
“He knew,” Easton insisted, and we burst into laughter.
“The way you stumbled around the yard, giggling at every damn thing . . .” I nearly doubled over at the memory.
“And you pestered Grandma Carter so much, telling her you wanted some of the magic water, that she eventually gave in.”
“That stuff was nasty.”
“You were lit after one big swallow.” We choked between laughs.
“What did we miss?” Daniel asked, Stone trailing behind him.
Stone pointed at the jar in my brother’s hand. “That’s what we missed.” He made a hand-it-over motion. “Pass it around, boys.”
“We haven’t even started yet,” Easton protested, unscrewing the lid and drinking. He handed it to me next.
“Grandmama’s going to be furious that we’re having some of this without her,” Stone said once he’d had a swallow.
“Miss Ruby is Grandma Carter’s biggest customer,” I said, and Stone nodded in agreement.
“Have you ever fi
gured out what they trade? It ain’t cash,” Easton said, the jar already back around to him.
“Nope. They’ll probably go to their graves with it. Even my dad doesn’t know.”
“Is there some sort of unwritten law that you can’t drink this from a glass?” Daniel asked, holding up the jar.
Easton, Stone, and I looked at each other and shrugged. “This is just the way we’ve always done it,” Easton answered. None of us had ever thought to do it differently. We’d watched our parents and grandparents do the same thing all our lives. They swore by the stuff, said it kept you strong.
It had been a while since I’d hung out with the guys, not that these two were my friends, but it felt like it. They didn’t behave any differently toward me even though they knew what I’d done, taking their cues from Easton. Despite being a man who could hold my liquor, it didn’t take long for me to feel a little buzz. I felt guilty, behaving like all was well when my mother was sick just a few rooms away. Growing a conscience was something I needed to get over. I wasn’t equipped to handle caring about anyone but myself.
“Hey,” Easton said. “She’d want you to relax.”
“Yeah.” I took another swallow to bury the lie. My mother would want me to have a good time and stop worrying about her, but it still didn’t feel right.
“I’m going to go see what I can find to eat in the kitchen,” Easton said, standing.
“If we can’t find anything here, I’ll scrounge something from our place,” Stone replied, getting to his feet as well.
As Daniel started past, I stepped in front of him. The guy was intimidating as fuck. He literally had black eyes, and if I hadn’t seen him around his wife, I’d think he didn’t have a soul. “Could I speak with you a moment? In private.”
His brows rose slightly; there was no hiding the disdain he felt toward me, and I respected him for that. “Of course.”
“I have something I want to show you.”
Daniel followed me to the room I’d shared with Sonya last night. Her scent still lingered, and I wondered what she was doing, if she had thought about me at all since we’d parted that morning. Daniel watched expectantly as I paused inside the doorway.
“We don’t know each other well—” I started, rifling through the bag of clothing Sonya had packed for us.
“You don’t know me at all,” he stated, and I paused, looking over at him, casually leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pockets.
“No. I suppose I don’t.” I resumed the search until I found what I was looking for. “Since you seemed to gather a lot of information about me that isn’t readily available, I wondered if you might know someone interested in this.” He’d thought he’d been the final push to get me to sign over my rights of Gabriel to Holly, but I’d decided to do it before his threats to expose me.
I held out the velvet bag to him, but he refused to touch it. Smart guy. He already knew what I had was hot and likely didn’t want his prints anywhere near it. I dumped the coin into my palm.
Daniel leaned closer, examining it. “Where did you get this?” he asked harshly.
“I don’t think that really matters.” One dark brow rose slowly, and I sucked it up. I needed something from him. Being an asshole wasn’t going to help.
“Your girlfriend stole it,” he deduced, and I was grateful not to have to say that out loud. It already felt like I was betraying her as it was, but she’d asked if I knew anyone who could unload this damn thing. That wasn’t going to happen with it sitting in her purse.
“I have paperwork,” I volunteered. It was folded up in the bag. “I don’t know if this shit is legitimate or not. But either way, it needs to be gone.”
“You tell me who had it, and I’ll think about helping you.”
“His first name is Tamas. I don’t know his last.”
Daniel’s eyes darkened, though it didn’t seem possible that they could. “How in the hell did she get tangled up with him?”
“You know him?”
“I know everybody.” Of course he did. “Is he aware she has this?”
“Yes.” Daniel indicated for me to flip the coin over so he could see the other side. “He’s not happy about it, but she denied it and has kept it hidden from him.”
“So she’s not aware Levitt stole this from someone else?” he asked.
I gawked at the revelation and failed miserably at hiding my surprise.
“I don’t think so, but you never know with her.”
Daniel’s face remained a mask, his guard fully in place, though it hadn’t been down much when we’d drank moonshine. This guy probably never relaxed.
“The owner of this wants it back very much,” he said, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood.
“I’m sure I don’t want to know the lengths to which he’d go to get it back,” I muttered dryly.
“I’m sure you don’t,” Daniel said. “It would be best for you to give this to me.”
I dropped the coin back in the pouch, but I didn’t hand it over. “If the owner of this wants it back, they’ve got to be willing to pay to have it returned. I don’t even have a way to verify who the thing actually belongs to.”
“I’m all the verification you need. I know you have it. I can make this easy on you or very difficult.”
So my instincts were all out of whack. I thought this guy could help me, but instead, I’d showed my hand and would walk away with nothing.
“You’ve already enjoyed making my life difficult, haven’t you?” I was fairly certain he’d not only helped Carlos and Holly against me, but Easton and Mulaney too.
“All your problems are the result of choices you made.”
Fucker. I hated it when someone else was right and didn’t need another person to point that out.
“I’ve been commissioned to find this coin. There is a fee for my services. I’ll split it with you.”
“How much?”
“Twenty-five percent of the value.”
“What’s the thing worth?” I asked, holding up the bag.
“Fifteen million.”
I let out a low whistle. It didn’t look like it was worth fifty cents.
“Shall I wire the money to one of your offshore accounts?” Daniel was a bastard. He played to win. And I liked him.
“I’ll give you an account number this evening.”
“Very well. As soon as the item has been authenticated, and I’ve received payment, I’ll be in touch.”
“Thanks.” I held out my hand, and he eyed it suspiciously for a moment before taking it.
“You’d better not be fucking with me,” he warned.
“I’m not really in a position to,” I said, offering him the velvet pouch. Daniel was almost out the door when I called his name. He turned, slightly annoyed. “Let’s keep this between us. Especially don’t mention it to Sonya.”
He nodded once and disappeared.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Sonya
“I’ll help you. On the truck.”
Trish stared at me as if digesting the words that had come out of my mouth. They’d surprised me too. I wasn’t a cook and hadn’t been on a food truck, let alone eaten at one, but maybe I could take orders or something.
She threw her arms around my neck. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”
Tentatively, I returned the hug until it became a genuine one. “You’re welcome. You’re welcome. You’re welcome.”
She laughed and loosened her hold on me until she thought better of it. A second round of hugging ensued.
“This is such a relief. You know the recipes and what to recommend.” She squeezed tight. “And I trust you.”
I choked.
And I trust you.
I hadn’t given anyone a reason to in so long, I’d forgotten what that meant. For goodness' sake, I didn’t even trust myself. Yet this woman, who’d been through hell, who shouldn’t have faith in humanity . . . she’d given me the ultimate gift.
I didn
’t want to betray that.
If I wasn’t scamming someone, then who was I?
“Loretta should like this.” Trish loaded a bag with homemade soup. “Hopefully, it will be easy to keep down.”
“Fingers crossed.” I’d confided in her about my worry for Loretta but had stopped short of spilling the insanity happening with Drew. I hadn’t made sense of this jumble of feelings yet and wasn’t ready to confess just how big of a soft spot he’d unveiled in my heart.
Trish continued filling two more bags with all the food we’d tested that afternoon. “At least now you don’t have to figure out what’s for dinner.”
“Trish . . .” It was too much, but she looked so happy packing up everything, I couldn’t say no. Not that I wanted to. Hopefully Muriella would appreciate a night—or a week—off.
“This isn’t unconditional,” she said as she wrapped up dessert and carefully placed it in the brown sack. “This is our first blind taste test. You have to promise to let me know what they think. Even if they hate it.”
She bumped my hip, her way of telling me there were no conditions on this meal. Trish was too pure for something like that.
“You want to come over and see what they think for yourself?”
“Then it wouldn’t be blind.” She brushed off the invite easily enough, but a shadow of fear clouded her face.
To my knowledge, she hadn’t left the shelter in all the time I’d been there. How was she going to conquer the real world and run a business? Those seemed like two hills that should be climbed at separate times.
“I’m glad you’ll be with me,” she said whisper-soft. “It’ll be nice to have a friend on the truck. More than nice.”
Friend?
I hadn’t had one of those since . . . I couldn’t remember when. Skiing was a competitive sport, so there hadn’t been time for friends. At Yale, I’d had a study partner I spent a lot of time with, but I wasn’t sure the relationship we had constituted friendship. Once I started hustling, there was no room in my life for constant people. I changed my name and phone number almost as frequently as I changed clothes. How could I make friends when I constantly lied about who I was?
Thick As Thieves: An Enemies-To-Lovers Romance (Paths To Love Book 5) Page 21