"A friend of mine. We had lunch."
He held the door open for her and they entered the much cooler lobby.
"A friend? Or a boyfriend?"
He wanted to slam his head into the wall but instead he simply pushed the button to call the elevator.
I am such an idiot.
Mariah didn't appear perturbed about his intrusive questions, which only served to piss him off more.
"It was a date. If that's what you're asking."
"I wasn't asking anything."
"It sounded like you were asking if he was my boyfriend."
"Why would I ask that?"
The doors slid open and they stepped into the elevator. Ryan tugged at his collar, wishing he were just about anywhere but here.
"I don't know. How about we change the subject? What time are we leaving for dinner?"
Ryan had completely forgotten that they were supposed to go to dinner with his parents that night. Together. Like they were a couple.
"You don't have to go."
Shit, that sounded rude. He hadn't meant it to come out like that. He'd just wanted to give her an out. His parents had put her on the spot yesterday.
"Why would I not go? I told your parents that I'd be there."
"They didn't really let you say no."
"If I had wanted to say no, I would have said no. But I want to go. I like your parents and I love the cook's roast chicken."
"It's just chicken."
The doors slid open and they stepped into the hallway, the tension thick between them. He followed her to her apartment door.
"Ryan, can you please just say what you mean?" she asked, placing her key in the lock. "Did you want to have dinner with your parents alone? Because if you do, then I'll stay home."
That sounded like one of Dante's circles of hell. A four-course dinner of torture.
"No, but–"
"Then I'm going. If you don't want to ride together, I can go on my own. Just let me know."
"Fine, and you don't have to be so snippy about it. I was just giving you a chance to bow out if you really didn't want to go. I would think you'd be more grateful."
Even their arguing felt familiar, but not nearly as catastrophic as it had seemed when they were younger. Then every disagreement had been bigger and more important than it really was. Now, this was only some light bickering.
Her brows shot up. "Did you just call me snippy, Ryan Beck? You better take that back quick."
"I take it back," he said immediately, holding up his hands in surrender. He'd only said it to get a reaction from her. It was a bad habit from the past. "I'm sorry."
"Snippy," she muttered under her breath. "Really? I should make you go to your parents' dinner all by yourself for that crack, buster."
"I really am sorry," he apologized again. "I don't know why I'm trying to pick a fight with you."
She stepped into the apartment and tossed her purse on the kitchen counter. "I know why you're doing it. You're doing it to keep me at arm's length. Mission accomplished. I don't want to be around you right now. Congratulations."
He opened his mouth to tell her she was wrong but then snapped it shut again. She was probably right. If they were arguing, then he wouldn't think about how much he'd missed her all these years. How he still thought about her when it was most inconvenient.
Like when he was with other women.
If he was completely honest with himself, he'd been comparing his dates with Mariah his entire adult life. He didn't enjoy the feeling that he'd been that disingenuous in his relationships. It didn't speak well of him and the women deserved better.
"I appreciate the apology," she said, holding the door open for him. "Now I think I'd like to lie down and rest for a little while. You can send me a text and let me know what time we're leaving for dinner."
She was mad at him. Hell, he was mad at himself. It might be a good idea to give them both some space.
"We can leave at six if that's convenient."
"It's fine."
Apparently, Ryan didn't know shit about women, but one thing he did know was that it wasn't a good thing when they said something was fine. It wasn't fine, and he was going to hear about it at some point.
"I'll call you later."
"Fine."
Shit...two fines in a row. He was in the doghouse and eating Milk-Bones.
Since the minute his plane had touched down in Chicago, he'd been acting like an asshole to Mariah. It had to stop.
Something had to change. Because one very important thing hadn't.
He still had feelings for Mariah Campbell.
Mariah was still fuming when she slammed her door shut the minute that Ryan exited her apartment. Yes, it was petty, but that was the mood she was in at the moment. He was being a jerk on purpose and she was tired of it. They'd been circling each other like two boxers and she was exhausted. They weren't getting anywhere - which she assumed was the whole point of his behavior - and she couldn't take much more.
Grant had hit a nerve at lunch when he'd pointed out that she and Ryan had unfinished business. Mariah had managed to dig a hole and bury it but since his arrival it had brought up so much emotion from the past.
I'm not completely over him. I still miss him.
They'd had their issues but looking back they didn't seem so insurmountable now. When she was young, she'd thought that they needed to agree on everything. Now she could see that was a naive hope. She didn't want to date a carbon copy of herself. She wanted to be challenged and shown new things.
He hadn't been much better, though. He'd been so stubborn when at least she'd been open to compromise. Except her idea of compromise was that he needed to be more like her. His idea of compromise was that everything went his way. It was a recipe for disaster. But then, they'd been so young. They hadn't known shit about life or relationships.
When it all came down to it, Ryan Beck was still the best man she'd ever known. Bar none. Frankly, it wasn't even a close race.
So now what?
She didn't have a clue. She only knew that she and Ryan had history and that neither one of them was very good at ignoring it.
Back at his own apartment, Ryan made himself a sandwich and popped open a soda before settling at the kitchen island to eat. As much as his brain wanted to dwell on the problem across the hall, he needed to lasso his thoughts and stay on track. He was in Chicago to figure out what happened to Brad. That had to be his priority. His personal problems were lower down the list. Halfway through his turkey on rye, he called his boss Jared Monroe.
"How's Chicago?"
Jared must have been working from home because there was the definite sound of laughing children in the background. He and his wife had two, plus a dog named after Stevie Nicks, the singer from Fleetwood Mac.
"Hot, but that's not unusual in the summer."
"Have some Chicago pizza for me. Man, I love that stuff."
"I haven't yet but I will. I got your message. What have you got for me? I can't believe you were able to find anything on Brad's finances. It was over ten years ago. That's amazing."
"It wasn't that difficult, actually," Jared chuckled. "Your friend's finances were all wound up in his family's finances, and most of those accounts are still around. Plus nothing is ever really deleted in this world of computer databases. You might have to dig a little bit, but eventually you'll find it."
Jared was known for finding out information that others couldn't get. Ryan didn't know what witchcraft or voodoo the older man used, but it came in damn useful at times.
"So I'll just get right to the important question. Did you find anything interesting?"
"Depends on what you call interesting and what you may already know about Bradley Harrington. He spent a hell of a lot of money, and his family didn't seem to mind. They kept him supplied with cash and a pretty much unlimited credit line which he used with abandon. Clothes, trips, booze, and what looks like gifts to females. Perfume, lingerie, jewelry. That
sort of stuff."
"I know all of that," Ryan admitted. "Brad loved to be the guy that picked up the tab or bought several rounds. For all his issues, he was generous as hell. I heard that he paid a bunch of bills for a classmate in college because that guy didn't have any family to help him and was working two jobs plus school."
"He sounds like a decent guy, but that's not all I found out."
"I'm listening."
Maybe Jared had found something that would help the investigation. Right now, Ryan didn't feel like he'd made any progress at all.
"Your friend was a gambler. Big time. Did you know that?"
"I knew he gambled," Ryan replied carefully. "When you say he was a big gambler, how big are you talking about? Like he bet a lot of money on the Super Bowl? Because, Brad did like to make bets on football."
"He spent a hell of a lot of money on it year-round so I suspect that he bet on more than football. It looks like he gambled regularly."
Brad was addicted to gambling? It wasn't the most far-fetched thing that Ryan could find out about his old friend. When Brad loved something, he loved it a lot. More than anything. When he did anything, he went all out, balls to the wall. There were never any half-measures. It was go big or go home.
"How did you find this? I can't imagine that he put his gambling on his credit card."
"He didn't, but he did make regular withdrawals and sometimes transferred money to other accounts. I also followed his cell phone records and they led to about half a dozen bookies in Chicago and New York City. Looks like he was spreading his bets around so he could bet the maximum amount each day. And from what I can see, he did bet every single day."
"I had no idea he was that bad," Ryan finally replied, his brain running through so many images from the past. "I know that he liked to place a few bets on sports, but I don't think any of us knew the extent of his problem. I thought it was a few innocent bets. I placed a couple myself on the playoffs or the big game. I didn't think it was a big deal."
"From what I can find, your friend was betting up to seventy-five thousand dollars a day. That's just an estimate, though. I could be wrong. It might be more or less, but I think it's a decent guess."
A day? That was insane.
"His family didn't know? I can't imagine that he was in so deep without them knowing he was spending money like that."
"I can't answer that question. Maybe his family only looked at monthly totals, for example. Then they'd see that he spent more than he won but they wouldn't see all the details for each day. Or maybe they didn't monitor his spending at all. There's also a chance they knew and didn't care. Do the parents gamble? I'm wondering if the son learned from mom or dad."
"I don't know but it looks like I'm going to need to ask that question."
It was going to be awkward as hell too, depending on Skip and Lilly's attitude regarding gambling. Ryan was almost positive that Skip bet on golf when he played with Ryan's dad.
"Did you get anything else from his phone activity?"
"Names of a few women you may not have talked to yet. He had an active social life, that's for sure. Parties, bars, restaurants, nightclubs. All of that and more. He did slow down a little during his last semester, but the gambling stayed the same. If anything, it intensified."
Ryan would need to talk to Caroline again and see if she knew anything about the gambling. Theo, too. If anyone knew it would be Brad's best friend.
I have a feeling that perhaps a few people haven't been completely candid with me. And what about Isla? Did she know?
"Can you text me the information for the women? I'll make arrangements for Rosenthal to talk to them."
"Will do. How are your interviews going? Anything to report?"
"Not really. Everyone says that Brad was acting normally that night and in the weeks before. They all thought that he'd show up in Hawaii and were surprised that he didn't." A thought occurred to Ryan. "I know this is going to sound insane but they kept bringing up how Brad would talk about faking his own death. I don't suppose you could check on that? Maybe find out if he looked into buying a one-way ticket to Fiji? Can you even get information like that from the distant past?"
"If it's in a computer database somewhere we can try," Jared replied, confidence in his tone. "Listen, I don't mean to be an asshole here, but your friend talked about faking his own death? Why? Did he hate his life or something? Were his parents abusive to him?"
"Not that I know of but Brad liked to be different, quirky. He thought it was cool to be rich and eccentric. He thought the idea of running away from society and living barefoot on the beach was kind of romantic."
"He sounds like an interesting guy," Jared remarked. "Definitely not boring."
"That's true. He was never dull. He always had something going on."
Did Brad have something going on that had gotten him killed? Ryan was beginning to think the answer might be yes. Time to backtrack to the parents and Theo. He had new questions to ask.
18
So far, dinner hadn't been the ordeal that Mariah had expected it to be. Ryan had been friendly and polite to his parents, and Jack and Patricia hadn't made any digs about being a cop or not joining the family business. All in all, it had been quite pleasant.
Of course, Mariah wasn't in the same boat as Ryan. She actually liked his mom and dad. They seemed like good people who loved their children, but perhaps didn't always know how to show that emotion. Instead they bought them things hoping their American Express card would do the talking.
How Ryan couldn't see this, Mariah didn't know. He was one of the most intelligent men she'd ever known but when it came to his family he couldn't see past the end of his nose. He was just angry that they weren't the kind of parents that he'd wanted so he'd set out to be the son they didn't want either. No one wanted to budge from their position which made the entire situation more frustrating for everyone around them.
Liza had been working on her parents for years, telling them to back off Ryan about his career choices. She'd also been working on Ryan, and Mariah had been as well when they'd still been together. She hadn't made much progress though, and he'd constantly tried to avoid spending any time with them. Deep inside, she felt that he'd regret that eventually. His parents weren't going to live forever, after all.
"So how is the investigation going, son?" Jack asked as the dinner plates were whisked away. "Any progress?"
They'd somehow managed to avoid talking about Brad during the meal, instead discussing the upcoming party for Patricia's birthday which had led to an even more in-depth debate about the merits of the Caribbean versus Europe. Jack was planning to take his wife on an extended vacation as part of her birthday present and they were trying to decide where to go. They'd already traveled extensively so neither location would be new to them. Mariah had suggested an Alaskan cruise as her parents had just returned from one and were still raving about it.
Ryan dabbed at the corners of his mouth with the heavy linen napkin. "I'm still putting together a picture of what happened that night when we were all together. I still have to speak to a few people including Isla Norton. She's had a busy schedule but I'm hoping that I get to talk to her tomorrow. My boss has also done some research into Brad's finances and came up with a few leads for me to follow."
This was the first that Mariah was hearing about new leads. She'd specifically asked Ryan in the car on the way there how his day had gone. He'd said it was fine but he hadn't elaborated on it any further so she'd assumed that meant there was nothing to talk about. Apparently, she'd been wrong.
Liza's brows rose expectantly. "You can't just throw something out there like that and then clam up, big brother. Talk. What did your boss find out? Was Brad funding an underground research facility that was trying to weaponize trained sharks?"
Her husband Mike grinned. "Or even better, a clandestine paramilitary group that goes around and helps people in trouble like ’The A-Team’?"
Chuckling, Jack smiled. "I t
hink both of you watch too much television. I doubt it was anything very interesting. What would Ryan find if he looked into your finances, I wonder?"
"That I like shoes," Liza sighed. "And Italian takeout. He'd find out that Mike plays too much golf."
"There's no such thing," Mike said with a mock anger tone in his voice. "Golf is a great way to spend a lazy Saturday afternoon."
"Lying in a hammock drinking a lemonade is even better," Liza teased her husband, placing her hand on his. "Or you could spend time with your wife. Now there's a radical idea."
"I'm just giving you time to go shopping," Mike replied with a grin. "We both have our little hobbies."
"So...what were Brad's hobbies?" Liza asked, taking a sip from her water goblet. "We know he played golf and partied."
For a moment, Mariah didn't think that Ryan was going to respond but he did, although she could tell it was a reluctant reply.
"I haven't had a chance to talk to Skip and Lilly about this so I would appreciate your discretion until I do. It's all going to come out eventually I would imagine, but I'd like them to hear it directly from me since I'm the one working on the case."
"That's fine, Ryan," Patricia murmured. "We're not gossips."
"I didn't think that you were," he assured his mother. "I just need you all to know that this is not common knowledge. Brad appeared to be gambling quite a bit. Every single day, as a matter of fact. He may have had a gambling problem."
Those words were a punch in the chest to Mariah. If Brad had been gambling, did he owe people money? Had one of them hurt him that night?
"Do you know for sure?" Jack asked, his expression somber. "How did you even find something like this out? It was over ten years ago."
"His cell phone was on his dad's account, which still exists," Ryan explained. "They traced his calls to several bookies in major metropolitan areas. He would make multiple calls a day, plus he was taking regular withdrawals and also transferring money. I'm going to need to ask Skip and Lilly if they knew about it."
Gilded Craving: Cowboy Justice Association (Serials and Stalkers Book 3) Page 12
