by Nicole James
He stopped in the hallway, turning to her. “Yeah? What?”
This wouldn’t do; she had to get him in the office. She nodded to the door. “It’s kind of private.”
“Fine,” he snapped and led her inside the room. She sat in the chair in front of his desk as he closed the door and moved behind the desk, squatting down in front of the safe. Quickly, she pressed the magnetic device to the underside of his old metal desk.
He finished, locked the safe, and stood, turning back to her. “So, what did you want to talk about?”
“Um, well, you know I haven’t asked about mom in a while, and I was just wondering how she was doing?”
Vano sat, a doubting expression on his face. “Now, all of a sudden you care? She’s been in that nursing home six months.”
Velvet tried to fake concern for a woman who’d mistreated her for her whole life, but she didn’t want Vano to become suspicious, so she did her best. “We never got along, it’s true, but she’s still my mother.” She shrugged. “I just wondered how she was.”
“She’s fine, as well as can be expected. She barely remembers who I am anymore. You should go visit her while she’s still got any cognitive skills left.”
Velvet looked away. She’d hated her mother for so long. Could she actually see her mother now and feel any differently? Could she ever forgive her? Would that forgiveness help Velvet to finally let go of the past and truly put it all behind her? Hanging onto the bitterness certainly wasn’t hurting her mother any longer; the woman probably didn’t even know who she was. No, hanging onto all that baggage was only hurting herself now.
Perhaps when everything was over and Velvet got herself out of this mess, she’d go see her mother. After all, if things went the way Agent Sanders wanted, Vano wouldn’t be visiting her anytime soon. Her gaze flicked to him. “I suppose I should. Maybe I will. I’ll…I’ll think about it. The place… Is it nice?”
“As nice as those places can be.”
“You can afford that?”
“I manage. I prepaid for the year. They gave me a discount.”
She nodded. “I see. So she’s paid up till the end of the year then.”
“Yep. Although the doctors think the disease is progressing rapidly. She may be in a vegetative state before then.”
“Oh. It’s that bad?”
“Yep.” He leaned back in his chair, his hand rubbing his mouth, studying her. “I know she wasn’t a good mother to you, especially after Pop died, but she didn’t have an easy life either, Vee. She had to marry a man she didn’t love, and he was a jerk to her. You may have been daddy’s girl, but—”
She stood abruptly, having no interest in rehashing her childhood. “Fine. I said I’d think about it.” She turned to leave.
“Vee.”
She paused at the door. “Yes?”
“I hated it.”
“Hated what?”
“What she did to you.”
“But you didn’t stop it, did you?”
He had no comeback for that. His eyes dropped to her jaw, and he jerked his chin at it. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean it.”
She shook her head. “You never do, Vano. You’re more like Mom than you know. You always have been.”
For that he had no reply.
She turned and left. Her hand was shaking as she pulled the door shut behind her and leaned against the wall. She wished for the hundredth time she’d never come here. Except then she wouldn’t have had all the time she’d had with Liam. She wouldn’t trade that for anything, but it was over now. The pain of losing him descended over her again, and she closed her eyes. She couldn’t think about that now. She had to get herself out of the mess she was in, and no one could help her, no one could save her. Like Sanders had told her, she had to save herself.
She hadn’t been able to plant the tiny camera in Vano’s office, but at least Agent Sanders would be able to hear everything he said in there, every meeting with Thing One and Thing Two as she’d come to think of Skin and his buddy.
Which reminded her, she needed to get the hell out of here. She didn’t want to be around when those two showed up, and they always showed up not long after closing time. Grabbing her purse, she headed out the back door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“Has Liam come in yet?” Jameson tapped a pen on his desk, his eyes connecting with Max slumped casually in the chair in front of him.
“Not yet.”
“Have you talked to him?”
Max shook his head, crossed his leg, and put his boot on his opposite knee. “I’ve tried, but he’s kind of closed down. If I bring it up, he changes the subject.”
Jameson’s eyes dropped to his desktop. “I guess we just need to give him time. He’ll come out of it eventually.”
Both men looked toward the stairs as the sound of someone running up them carried through the space.
Ava dashed in. “Jamie, you’ve got to see this.”
He frowned. “What?”
She put a copy of Inked Up magazine on the desk before him. There was an amazing shot of Liam and Velvet on the cover. On a small Post-it note attached was scrawled the note, Hitting newsstands Friday--Ryan.
“It just arrived by messenger,” Ava murmured.
Maxwell whistled. “Wow. Great shot.”
Jameson glanced up at Ava as he flipped the pages. “You read the article.”
She nodded, but he caught a funny expression on her face. She looked kind of shell-shocked.
“What’s wrong? Is it bad?”
She shook her head. “No. It was great. The shop is described as still the primo shop for color and shading. The pictures are gorgeous.”
Max came around behind Jameson and bent over his shoulder. “The chemistry between them really comes across in those shots, doesn’t it?”
Jameson skimmed the article, searching for any mention of Velvet. “Liam and Velvet are described as the ‘it couple’ in the world of ink right now.”
“Did he put that other shit in the article?” Max asked.
Jameson shook his head. “I don’t see it.”
“It’s not mentioned. I checked,” Ava confirmed.
Jameson let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”
“There’s more.”
Ava’s quiet admission brought his eyes up. He frowned. “More?”
She reached down and flipped to another article.
He stared down at the two-page spread. On the left was a black and white, slightly out of focus shot of Velvet staring out a window. She looked vulnerable, her eyes glassy. The tagline below her picture read: The tragic true story of the hottest tattoo model around.
On top of the adjacent page in bold black typeface it read: How America’s hottest ink model resurrected her life from a heartbreaking childhood of abuse.
Jameson read the story out loud.
We photographed the accompanying shot of Velvet in black and white because this story is not about the colorful ink on her skin, but about how she got it. Velvet is beautiful, but there is nothing beautiful about her story.
Born into the life of scammers and con artists with a family that was always on the move, always one step ahead of the law, young Velvet barely stood a chance.
The three of them bent over the story as Jameson read to the end. He lay the magazine down. “Jesus, I had no idea.”
“That’s fucked up, man.”
Jameson met Ava’s eyes, and she murmured, “Liam needs to see this. He needs to know the truth.”
“Is he here yet?”
“He wasn’t when I came up here. It was just Rory downstairs.”
Jameson stared down at the magazine. “That woman was one money-hungry bitch. Who does that to their daughter?”
They heard Rory and Liam’s voices in conversation downstairs arguing about a Broncos game.
Jameson looked at Max. “Go get him.”
Max strolled to the staircase and hollered down. “Liam, got a second?”
>
His answer carried up the stairs. “I do not actually.”
Max growled back, “Let me rephrase that. Get your ass up here!”
Jameson lifted his brow.
Max grinned and sat a hip on the edge of the desk as they waited.
The sound of Liam trudging up the stairs carried to them, and he came into view. He frowned when he saw all three of them around the desk. “What’s up?”
“The new issue just came in.” Jameson held up the magazine, and Liam’s eyes dropped to the sexy shot of himself and Velvet on the cover. His face went ashen.
“Oh.” He just stared at it.
“The article was great,” Ava whispered.
He nodded, with barely any emotion showing on his face. “Good.”
Ava took the magazine and opened to the article about Velvet. “You need to read this.”
He glanced down at it, and his expression changed to one of stunned disbelief. “What the hell is that? She conned the reporter into doing an article on her?”
“Read it.”
He shook his head. “No.”
Ava started reading it aloud.
Liam jerked the magazine from her hands and slapped it on the desk. “I said I don’t want to hear it!”
“You need to, brother,” Jameson advised. “It’s pretty shocking.”
“Shocking? How?” When he wouldn’t elaborate, Liam glared at him, but finally picked up the magazine and sat in a chair, reading it slowly.
“She was a victim, bro. Worse than this shop was. What was done to her was damn right child abuse.”
When Liam finished, he tossed the magazine on the desk and buried his head in his hands. “Jesus Christ. I wouldn’t even give her a chance to explain.”
Ava squatted next to his chair and touched his forearm, gently pulling his hands from his face. “Liam, did you know she couldn’t read?”
He pinned her with pain-filled eyes. “I had no clue. I would have helped her.”
“You didn’t know.”
He bit his lip and shook his head. “I should have listened. I should have given her the benefit of the doubt.”
Jameson hated to see him like this, and he didn’t know if what he was about to confess would make it better or worse. “Brother, I need to tell you something.”
Liam stared at him, waiting as if for the other ball to drop.
“She, uh…” Jameson dropped his eyes to the desk and slowly rubbed his hands together.
“Just say it.”
“She was paid a thousand dollars for that story. She came to apologize, and she gave the check to me. Signed it over to pay back the money I gave her mother ten years ago.”
He frowned. “When was this?”
“The day after the shoot.”
His brows shot up. “And you’re just telling me now?” He surged to his feet. “Goddamn it, Jameson.”
“I’m sorry.” His eyes cut to his wife’s, then back again. “I should have told you that day, but I thought you were through with her, and hell, I didn’t know about any of this.” He nodded to the magazine.
Liam’s gaze dropped to it. “I have to find her. I have to talk to her. Now. Today.” He spun.
Jameson stared at his brother’s retreating back as he moved to the stairs and dashed down them, then his gaze met Ava’s. She grinned in that, I was right, way she had. He rolled his eyes, and she burst out laughing. Jameson glared at her. “Go ahead and say it.”
She smiled huge and did exactly that. “Told you so!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Velvet sat in a booth in the back of the diner, her nails clicking against the thick coffee mug. It was five minutes after three. Her eyes scanned the street outside for Agent Sanders. It was hard enough coming up with an excuse to get out of the shop, but she felt like a sitting duck. What if one of the guys ran out to grab a cold drink or food? Hell, they could walk right past here.
Being left waiting was fraying her nerves, and sneaking around had them already worn down. She wasn’t sleeping, she was barely eating, and she was a nervous wreck most of the time.
The door opened and she glanced up. Sanders walked in and pulled his shades from his eyes. It only took him a second to spot her.
“Hello, Velvet,” he said, sliding onto the red vinyl seat.
A waitress came over. “What can I get you, honey?”
“Coffee. Thanks.” When she walked away, he glanced at Velvet. “You look tired.”
“I’m not sleeping much.”
The waitress returned with the carafe and a mug. “Did you want to order food?”
“No, thank you. Just this,” Sanders replied. When she’d retreated, he snagged a couple packets of sweetener from the bowl, tore them open, and dumped them in his mug. He stirred it slowly, his eyes studying Velvet. “What do you have for me?”
Her hand slipped into the pocket of her jacket, and she pulled out her phone. She showed him the pictures she’d taken of the register receipt and the deposit slip. There was almost two thousand more in the deposit.
He took her phone and texted the photos to himself. “Good. If the serial numbers from the PO Box money show up, it will prove he’s laundering money through the business in addition to mail fraud.”
“So am I done?”
He shook his head. “We were able to pick up some conversations in his office. There are other business accounts. There’s much more money going through that business than just the phone scam. We need to know where it’s coming from. If they won’t talk about it, we need you to see if you can find something.”
“Can’t you just break in after hours or something?”
“If we were discovered, we’d have to move too soon. I want this case locked down with air tight evidence.”
“These men” —she fiddled with her fingernails—“are not nice men. They’re dangerous.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“Look, we overheard them talking about some shipment coming in tomorrow. They talk quietly, and we just can’t pick it all up. We don’t know what the product is. Could be counterfeit goods—”
She cut him off, dread filling her. “Or drugs.”
He nodded. “Yes, if I had my guess, cocaine or heroin. But it could be anything. We need you to find out for us.”
“They’re already suspicious of me. They watch me like a hawk. I had to make up a story just to meet you. My brother thinks I’m out buying tampons.”
“I’m sorry, but this is the deal we made. You cooperate—”
“I am cooperating!”
“And you help us get evidence.”
“I’m living a lie, and I hate it.”
“I know this is difficult for you, but that was the deal.”
“Fine!” She started to slide from the booth, but his hand reached out and gripped her wrist.
“Same place, same time tomorrow.”
She yanked her arm free. “Great. How many accidents do you think I can have?”
He grinned. “You’ll think of something. If it’s one thing I’ve discovered about you, Veleena, it’s that you’re a very resourceful woman.”
“Fuck off, Sanders.” She stormed through the diner and out the door. What a jerk, and now she’d been gone too long; Vano was sure to question her. Velvet strode down the street, but she couldn’t get what Sanders had told her out of her head. This whole time, she’d thought this was a simple con her brother was running. But now the FBI thought her brother was involved in laundering drug money. Could it be true? Or was it even worse? Was he actually involved in dealing the drugs himself?
She’d bet her last dollar that whatever was going on, the show was being run by those two ex-cons he’d met in prison. Vano had seemed off lately, like he was under extreme pressure, and that just didn’t make sense, especially with as much money as was rolling in. Those men had to have something they were holding over him, or maybe they were just threatening him. Vano was never one to be easily coerced to do
anything, but in the end he was just a small time con artist. Those ex-cons were a whole different league of criminals.
And now Sanders wanted her to dig deeper into their activities. She could really put herself in danger.
Velvet walked around the corner, her head down, her eyes on the sidewalk. She tried to figure out what to do when she collided hard with the solid chest of a man. She stumbled back, and her mouth fell open. “Liam.”
He was just as stunned to see her, but he recovered quicker. “Velvet. I was actually just heading across the street to your shop.”
She frowned, her brain, like a car that missed a gear, was slow to make sense of his words. “House of Ink?” She swallowed. “Why?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“About what?” She didn’t want to let herself hope. This could be about anything. Maybe she’d left something at his apartment.
“I saw the article.”
That was the last thing she expected him to say. She frowned. “The article?”
“The one you sold to Inked Up.”
“Oh.” God, with everything going on, she’d forgotten about it. It was hard to read his face. Was he pissed she’d sold her story, like Jameson had been? Maybe he’d been on his way to the shop to tell her off.
“You haven’t seen it?” he asked, his brows dipping.
“No.”
“Jameson got an advanced copy sent to him today by Ryan.”
Velvet looked off down the street, her mind in a fog and murmured, “Maybe it’s in the mailbox.” Her eyes came back to his, and she frowned. “You read it?”
He nodded. “I had no idea you went through all that.”
“What did it say? Did Ryan make me sound pathetic?”
“Not at all. The story was very well written, very respectful of you.” He studied her. “Velvet, I…I can’t believe you were put through all that. Why didn’t you tell me?”
She huffed out a laugh. “Who would want to tell a story like that one? I’ll be a pathetic fool from coast to coast now.”
