If Herb conducts the new inspection, he’ll almost certainly find out about Dante’s plan here – the landfill beneath us, the sub-standard construction, all of it. He’s a good man, and unlike some low-rent inspector or county official, he’s not so desperate for money that he can be bribed. And once he finishes, we’ll have hard evidence to use against Dante.
But would it be enough to send the bastard to prison? And what about the timing? If Dante finds out we’re having another inspection done, it could give him a chance to protect himself and move against us. Backing him into a corner before we’ve got him dead to rights could make him even more dangerous.
It’s a tough call, and I can see Chloe shifting her weight uneasily as she looks at me. As the man, it’s my duty to protect her, even if that protection is from me.
But in the end, despite the chess game playing out in my mind, I know that there’s only one right move to make here. If this house is already falling apart, it could be hazardous to anyone who enters it. And if the unthinkable happens and I had a chance to have it inspected and chose not to – and that information got out – my career would be over, and I’d be liable for any injuries that occurred.
Not to mention I’d never be able to sleep at night ever again. Nixon raised me better than that.
With a huge exhale, I concede to the prod of my conscience. “Thank you. Yes, please conduct the inspection.”
Chloe breathes a sigh of relief as Herb nods.
“Okay, will do,” he says. “I’ll call my guys to come out here. We’ll have to run a few tests on the soil, water, and some other stuff, but we should be able to send you a complete report within a couple days.”
I spare another glance at the sinkhole, creating a huge liability hazard in this unfenced yard. “I appreciate it. Here, let me walk you back to your truck. There are some things Nixon wanted me to pass on to you.” I glance at Chloe. “We’ll just be a moment.”
Chloe frowns. Yeah, for once in my life a woman isn’t buying what I’m selling. And here I thought that sales was my forte.
As Herb and I walk to the driveway, he raises an eyebrow. “I’m guessing this little chin-wag we’re about to have ain’t got nothing to do with Nixon, huh?”
“Am I that bad a liar?” I ask, smiling.
He chuckles. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. So what’s the deal here?”
I meet his gaze so he’ll know that I’m as serious as a heart attack here. “I need this inspection done quietly. No one else can know about it, and your guys can’t submit any official documentation to the county. You can’t let the house’s owner know about it, either.”
Herb lets out a low whistle. “Jeez. That’s a mighty tall order there. You know I could get into some damn hot water if I cut those kinds of corners. Maybe even lose my license. Mind telling me what’s going on?”
I’m not quite sure how to let the man in on Dante without throwing away my chance to take the greaseball down in a flaming explosion of hair oil. “All I can tell you right now is that if word of this inspection gets out, Chloe and I could be in real danger.”
He looks me over slowly, scratching his head. “House belongs to Giovanetti, is that it? He’s running one of his bullshit scams, and you’re trying to mess it up for him?”
I pause, then nod.
“You got balls like boulders, kid,” he snickers. “Don’t ever let no one tell you different. Nixon know about your little scheme here?”
I nod. “He knows. He doesn’t exactly approve.”
Herb waves me away. “Okay, okay. I get the picture. I’ve got some pals in the county records and inspection offices who owe me favors, so if I need anything from them, I can get it done off the books. I won’t ask what you want me to find…it’ll look a lot less suspicious if I just do a full top-to-bottom and go from there.”
I shake his hand in a death grip as a wave of relief flows over me. “Thank you, Herb. I owe you for this.”
“Nah, we’re good, son. Like I said, your family’s helped me out plenty of times over the years, so it’s the least I can do. One thing, though.”
“Sure, name it.”
He puts a calloused hand on my shoulder, looking me in the eyes. The gesture briefly reminds me of my last conversation with Nixon, which makes me uncomfortable. “You don’t wanna fill me in on the details, fine. I’m a big boy, I’ll accept whatever risks come my way. And if it means giving that snake Giovanetti a spanking, so much the better. But if that lady back there could be in danger, she deserves to know the score. So whatever’s stopping you from telling her, you’d better put it aside before she gets hurt.”
The truth of this settles on my chest like a bowling ball. “You’re right, of course.”
“Hell, ain’t I always?” He grins before climbing into his truck and driving off.
The voice of reason tastes especially bitter today.
I make my way back to the rear of the house – I tell myself that my limp feels worse than usual, and that it’s the reason I’m walking so slowly. But deep down, I know it’s because I’m dreading this conversation.
Chloe stands with her hands on her hips. “Okay, that does it. I know you weren’t passing along messages from Nixon. What’s going on here? What aren’t you telling me about this house?”
I invite her to sit down with me next to the cracked pool, and I tell her everything.
Chapter Nineteen
Chloe
A few hours after hearing Lincoln’s explanation, I lie on my couch with my hands behind my head, staring at the ceiling and wondering what the hell is wrong with me. My prosthetic leg stands upright next to me, like a dog waiting to be taken for a walk.
Not much of what he revealed surprised me. Well, except for the fact that Dante Giovanetti constructed the whole house over a former landfill. I can’t believe anyone could get away with something so brazenly illegal when putting up a housing development, even someone with Dante’s money and connections. When I think about the long-term effects that could have on the health of the residents and their kids…
I’ve never wanted to throat punch a man more in my life.
Except the poor unsuspecting residents will probably be crippled or killed long before then, when these shoddily constructed homes come tumbling down on top of them. I find myself staring at the place where my leg used to be.
I can’t risk letting that happen to anyone else.
Not again.
Even so, any sane person who’d been told that they’re involved with a plot to take down some big-time mafioso would run as fast and as far as she possibly could, which would make me a glutton for punishment. And I have to admit, the thought of sticking with Lincoln while he tries to get Dante sent to prison scares the living hell out of me. Ever since he told me, my chest has felt tight, and my hands have been shaking.
So why did I agree to help him, especially after he kept this information from me for so long?
I think back to our night together, and I have my answer.
Yes, it’s crazy to care about someone so much after knowing them for such a short period of time. Yes, it’s ridiculous to believe in an instant connection like this one, particularly when our first encounter screamed nothing but open hostility. But what we shared when we finally let our guard down together…I’ve never felt anything deeper or more real than that. For the first time since my accident, I felt whole.
And the most incredible part of all is that I get the sense he feels the same way. It’s not necessarily apparent in his face, or his voice – he keeps a tight lock on his true feelings, clearly as a defense mechanism, and I get that. But it’s still undeniable whenever we’re close, coming off him in waves like heat from a stove.
Now we’re in this together, God help us.
A loud rap on the door startles me out of my reverie. Who would just drop by unannounced? Jamie’s way too OCD to show up without texting at least an hour in advance. And none of my professional contacts have ever been to my
apartment.
Maybe it’s Lincoln, and he’s about to profess his undying love for me.
Another knock. More insistent this time. I feel a strange dread rise up in my throat like bile. With a chuckle at my ridiculous hope that it’s Lincoln coming to admit his buried feelings for me, I struggle to my feet.
“Just a minute.” I reach for my prosthetic. Whoever it is, I’ll be damned if I’m going to let them see me hopping around on one leg. I secure it as quickly as I can, stand up, smooth out the front of my blouse, and try to walk to the door as casually as possible even though my heart jackhammers in my chest.
Just before I turn the knob, a third knock rings out – loud, like a gunshot. I take a deep breath to compose myself and open the door. It’s the stuff of nightmares and sexual harassment lawsuits and felonies, standing with his hands in his pockets and smiling, his lips pressed into a thin sneer.
My blood freezes and my brain vapor-locks. I want to say something calm, welcoming, neutral, to make him think Lincoln hasn’t told me anything about his despicable scam. Instead, I stand there paralyzed as anxiety rockets through me, and six words keep clanging in my head over and over like a fire alarm.
Is he here to kill me? Is he here to kill me? Is he here to kill me?
“Hello, Ms. Sanderson.” An odd malice lies just underneath his cheerful tone…or am I just imagining that because I’m scared shitless? “I apologize for intruding like this, but there’s a delicate matter I feel we should discuss. May I come in?”
I feel like screaming or slamming the door in his face. Or both. I feel like calling the cops. I feel like calling Lincoln. I feel like hopping out the bedroom window and shimmying down the fire escape.
“Sure.” No, you may not come in. Because you probably want nothing more than to do me grave physical harm. I swing the door open and gesture for him to enter. Did he hear my voice shaking? I hope not.
“Thank you. I promise not to take up too much of your time. As I understand it, you’ve had a rather eventful day, yes? The sinkhole, and that crack in the pool…but houses settle, do they not? And this one is no exception. I wouldn’t really worry about it that much.”
“How did you know about the pool and the sinkhole?” My tone rises sharply before I can control it. With the hitch in my voice, I’ve already shown him my hand, and I don’t have an ace in the hole.
He’s clearly amused by my obvious surprise and excitement, and he gives me a shark-like grin that looks more like a bearing of teeth. His are pearly white and square, not pointed, but they couldn’t be more dangerous if they were weapons.
“You and Lincoln have been working so hard on this house.” He taps a finger to this side of his nose as if he’s lost in thought. “That you seem to have forgotten it belongs to me. And since it’s my house, I know everything about what’s going on inside it. Like the fact that an unwelcome and unapproved inspection was ordered, off the books, and without my knowledge. Or the fact that the woman staging it was once an empty-headed drunk who ruined an innocent person’s life forever.”
My world starts to get cloudy around the edges, and for a terrible moment, I think I’m going to faint. He still looks at me with his toothy smile and flat black eyes, as soulless as a stormy sky at midnight.
He can’t know about that.
He can’t.
“It’s time for you to fully embrace the idea that I know everything where you’re concerned,” he continues as though he’s been reading my mind. “And to act accordingly.”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about, or what you think you know,” I begin. Husky with panic, my voice cracks, and I try to clear it. My throat feels like the Vegas desert. My heart feels like it’s being squeezed to death in a vice. “But you’ve clearly got me mixed up with someone else.”
“Let’s not play that game, Ms. Sanderson. It’s boring, isn’t it? Because of you, a former high school track star – a girl who had her whole life ahead of her, who could have been an Olympic athlete – is confined to a wheelchair for the rest of her miserable life. You know this. I know this.”
His words echo through my apartment, low and lethal, like a promise of all the things he could do to make me hurt.
I swallow hard. “Please. Don’t–”
He holds up a hand. “The only thing left to discuss is how many other people need to know in order to get you to stop that miserable cripple, Caldwell. He’s the stupidest of the entire bunch. If you do what I want, no one needs to find out about your guilt. Your shame. If you don’t, well, you can kiss your big Bravo premiere goodbye, along with the rest of your career. And I’m sure you haven’t bared your soul to Caldwell yet, have you?”
“Lincoln will understand,” I tell him. My heart races because it understands the whisper of a lie laced in with the truth. “It was an accident. He’ll see that.”
Dante laughs, a harsh rasp, like a file against metal. “How quaint, my dear. But you haven’t known that whelp as long as I have. You didn’t know him when he spent most of his time in his wheelchair, helpless and twisted, needing nurses to dress him and wipe his ass for him. You didn’t see the bitterness in the little retard’s eyes back then, the anger. I did. That whelp Nixon can’t protect his own casino, let alone his family. And you seriously believe little Lincoln will forgive you for doing that to someone else? Especially when he hears the details of how it happened?”
My heart skips several beats as this thought soaks into me like cold rain. Dante might be right. Because I’ve never really deserved forgiveness for what I did, have I? I’ve never deserved to move on, since that girl I hurt can’t move her own legs. My mother never stopped reminding me of that. Waves of worthlessness and regret flow over me until the emotion becomes so powerful, it bursts forth and condemns me to the life I deserve.
And I don’t deserve Lincoln Caldwell. But I will help him. I owe him that much. And this greasy motherfucker will not stop me from doing it. But first, I’ll pump him for every shred of information I can glean that might help Lincoln take him down for good.
It’s about to become my own personal battle cry.
“What do you want from me?” I feel myself blinking back tears. Damn it, I can’t break down. Not in front of this bastard.
“Stop this inspection immediately,” he snaps, leaning in ever closer. Menacing. A tic in his cheek grabs my focus, and I realize one further insult could set him off like a loose cannon.
With every thread of strength I possess, I stand firm. “How am I supposed to do that?”
He flicks his wrist. “I don’t care how, but you’d better do it fast. Tell Lincoln it’s bad publicity for the TV show, convince him it’s just the house settling. Suck him off with your talented mouth, whatever. Hell, I don’t care if you open your one good leg to the inspector to get him to bury the results. But by nine o’clock tomorrow morning, I’d better hear that the final inspection has been called off. If not, the whole world will know your secret, and your life’s going to turn into a sinkhole that makes the one in the backyard look like a goddamn piss hole in the snow. Do you understand?”
The tears come, spilling hotly down my cheeks. I can’t hold them back. The shame of letting this piece of filth witness my pain is worse than the pain itself.
“Okay.” I barely recognize my own voice.
Hell, you barely recognize yourself, Chloe. What on earth have you done? You should have known you can never outrun your past.
“I’m delighted to hear that,” Dante replies in a silken tone. The tone of victory. He thinks he has this one in the bag. But during intermission is when most of us gather our strength for the big finish. “It’s wonderful when two reasonable people can come to an understanding in situations like these. Now you can have your career, your TV show, your gimp boyfriend…everything you ever wanted, yes?”
My hands clench into fists so tight they tremble under the strain.
“I’ll leave you to enjoy your evening now.” Turning his rigid back to me, he stroll
s toward the door. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon, and when we do, I’m perfectly comfortable pretending this conversation never took place. If you’re successful, of course.”
He leaves, his words hanging in the air like swords swinging from silent threads.
I don’t know how long I stand there, replaying the scene in my head. My hip feels like someone took an ax to it, but I don’t care. I deserve the pain. I deserve the overwhelming fear.
Lincoln won’t have his shot at stopping Dante because the house will probably fall down on some family a month after they’ve moved in, and it’s all because of me, because of something I can never take back.
My smartwatch vibrates, and it snaps me out of my trance. I see Lincoln’s name on the caller ID and remember my short, silly fantasy when I heard the first knock at the door.
I tap the device in my ear. “Hey, Lincoln.”
“Hi.” He pauses, then asks, “Is something wrong? Your voice sounds like you’re…like something might be wrong.”
I open my mouth, wanting to blurt it out – Dante’s visit, his threats, the horrible thing I did years ago, all of it. I want him to save me. Protect me. Cherish me. But somewhere in the pit of my stomach, I know I blew that chance the moment the first lie fell easily from my lips so many years ago.
“No, I’m fine.” A new mental image floats across my brain, one where Lincoln tells me exactly what he thinks of me and my litany of untruths. “What’s up?”
“My fundraiser is being held tonight. I don’t know if you’ve heard of it – Helping Hearts and Hands? We raise money for kids with disabilities to receive…well, the kind of treatment I’ve had.”
I twirl a lock of hair with my fingers. Stress squeezes my throat like a vice. “Are you calling me for a date or a donation?”
He pauses, and I wonder if he’ll start pressing me for the truth. But then he says, “A bit of both, actually. I’d like you to attend as my guest, and I’d like for you to donate your time in the form of a speech.”
On The House (Caldwell Brothers Book 7) Page 14
