"Is that so?"
"It is," he replied with a nod, looking off into the water. "And when it goes down, a lot of the people around him are going to go down too. In fact, I’d advise anyone in Hannigan’s circle doing anything shady who doesn’t want to get caught in the crossfire, to take a step back.”
Jake kept his trap shut, letting his brother’s words sink in. No wonder Mike had made himself available on such short notice. He’d wanted to warn him off. But Jake was all too familiar with how the system worked. Even if Mike did everything right and nailed him, balls to the wall, guys like Hannigan never truly paid their debt to society. Best case, he’d get charged with forgery or trafficking and use his connections to ensure that he spent a comfy few years in some day spa they called a prison. Then, he’d be back out living the high life and not giving a shit about the lives he ruined doing it.
Jake couldn’t live with that.
Mike still eyed him, waiting to see if he’d bite, but he kept his face carefully blank. It reminded him of the night before when he and Sadie had danced both literally and figuratively. He and his brother did a similar dance now, only this time, there was no joy in it.
“I hope it works out for you,” Jake said. “I’d love for this to finally come to an end.”
“Me too,” Mike said, his jaw flexing. “Seeing him brought to justice will be a relief. But you know, there’s one big difference between justice and revenge. Justice is sweet. It’s right.” He scrubbed a hand over his stubbly chin. “Revenge is ugly, like a festering snake bite, and it damages the person inflicting it as much as the person receiving it. There’s no end to the pain it can bring, and it’s never as sweet as we think it's going to be, brother."
The stark words sent a chill over him in spite of the warmth of the day, and Jake stood. “Lovely speech. Now what say we switch bait, shut the fuck up and try to land a meal here, yeah?”
He was being flip, but his brother had pissed him off. Not to mention, Mike was dead wrong. So far, revenge had been pretty satisfying, and once he took care of this one last thing, surely he’d feel whole again.
For a long moment, the boat was cloaked in tense silence except for the sounds of the waves slapping the aluminum sides. Then, the gods intervened and Mike’s reel went whizzing.
"Got a bite!" he shouted as he leaned back with his pole.
Jake made to ready the net as his brother reeled in his catch. If he didn’t want to wind up on the end of Mike’s hook like that striper, he was going to have to shorten his timeline and force the issue with Alistair.
Because festering snake bite or not, there was no way in hell he was giving him up now.
***
“She’s making progress, but with her weight still so low, we can’t release her. Not yet, I’m sorry.”
Sadie closed her stinging eyes and leaned back against the nearest barstool, trying to keep it together. It was almost dinnertime at Roberto’s and she didn’t have the time for a meltdown.
She’d been so sure after their outing the other day that Clarissa was on the upswing and would be able to come home later in the week. The next day, though, the low-level depression was back and her appetite was gone again. It was a vicious cycle. She needed to be home to feel better, but she needed to feel better before they would let her come home.
At this point, there was no other choice. "Go ahead with the feeding tube, then."
There was a long pause on the other end of the line and she braced herself.
"I hate to broach the subject, Sadie. I know it's uncomfortable, for us as much as you, but we need to know-"
"How we're going to pay for this. Yes," she snapped and rubbed a hand over her eyes before taking a steadying breath. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. This isn't your fault. I know you're just doing your job. I'll take care of it. I can make a payment tomorrow and then, if you give me a week," which was half as long as she needed, "I can pay the balance."
She’d spent the past few days regrouping and had just finally settled on plan B, which was hitting Hannigan’s estate when he was away on the 15th. Now, though, between the latest medical crisis and the three-hundred and fifty bucks for the dress she’d ruined when she’d neglected to stick the landing on her flight off the balcony, she was out of time and out of options. She'd have to make her move sooner and hope for the best.
Pinching the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger, she shut out the sound of her father's voice ringing in her head.
Who will take care of Clarissa if you’re in prison?
She'd just make sure she didn't get caught. That was all there was to it.
The administrator agreed that payment within a week would be okay and they said their goodbyes before disconnecting. Sadie pocketed her mobile with a sigh of frustration. She'd just have to work with what she had and make the best of a bad situation.
“Cheer up, sad-faced clown, you’ve got a surprise.”
Sadie looked up to see Monica standing in front of her with a massive bouquet of flowers in her hands. Blush-colored hydrangeas, to be exact.
Her stomach flopped around like a beached mackerel as she reached out for the vase and spied a tiny white envelope tucked within the blooms. She set the vase on the bar and plucked the card from its nest.
“Whoever sent those has great taste. They’re stunning,” Monica murmured. She was standing so close that Sadie could feel a hot wash of breath on her neck.
“Yeah, I guess so,” she responded, turning and giving her co-worker a smile. She so wasn’t reading the note with Monica standing right there. After she’d taken a header off a balcony into a bush of those very same flowers, there was no question who’d sent them, but she was dying to see what he had to say.
She held the card in a now-trembling hand, trying to think of a polite way to get some space when the hostess on duty came clippity-clopping into the bar on a pair of stilettos.
“Monica, the four-top at table eleven is you.”
“I’m on it.” The redhead took a second to retie her apron and headed toward the dining room. “But don’t think you’re getting off that easy,” she called over her shoulder to Sadie. “I’m dying to hear all about your admirer.”
Admirer, indeed. More like nemesis. Surely by now he’d pieced it together that she’d stolen his wallet. She winced just thinking about it.
What the hell had come over her? He’d recognized her and had been totally suspicious, but rather than just let it go and get out of the situation as cleanly as possible, she couldn’t resist.
Those sexy, muscled arms around her as they danced. That sparkle of heat and bit of the devil in his eye as he questioned her. And the accent? God, the accent.
She was out of sorts, confused by all the conflicting feelings --desperate to get away, but also inexplicably compelled to get even closer-- and right when she’d gotten him to agree to her Rumpelstiltskin deal and was ten feet from freedom, she’d felt the wallet pressed against her hip. There was no thought, only instinct. She could have no sooner stopped her heart from beating than stop herself from filching that wallet.
It was only hours later when she sat cross-legged on her bed looking at the contents spread out before her that she realized it hadn’t been about the money. In fact, four days had gone by and she hadn’t spent a dime of the three-hundred forty-three dollars that had been tucked in the billfold or even touched the credit cards.
No, she’d taken the wallet because, as crazy as it seemed, she wanted to take a piece of him with her. Something she could look at on those days when she felt nothing but defeated and remember how wild and alive she’d felt in his arms, dancing around that room, matching wits with him.
She glanced behind her again before tucking her forefinger beneath the flap and tearing open the envelope. With a quick tug, she freed the silky card inside and read the single line of text.
Keep it. It was worth every penny.
-J
Her pulse clamored wildly as she held the not
e to her chest. It was vague, but intriguingly so. One thing seemed clear. He wasn’t angry at her, and that relieved her mind way more than it should. But his words could be translated so many ways. Did he mean the dance was worth every penny? Or their time together? Or the fact that she’d unintentionally flashed him her cookie when she’d landed?
Whatever the case, there was no question that she’d spend the hours --maybe even days-- trying to decode his message, and wouldn’t that be a fun distraction. But whatever he’d meant, she’d clearly left an impression, and the thought warmed a place inside her that had been cold for far too long.
“There’s a deuce at table four for you,” the hostess said as she tottled past, toward the kitchen.
Sadie nodded absently and tucked the card into her apron. Obsessing over a man she’d likely never see again wasn’t going to pay the bills.
Guilt stabbed at her as she realized while she was all gooey and giggly over some stupid flowers, her sister was prepping to get her feeding tube. It was time to drill down and focus. She’d work tonight and then head straight home to work on a new plan of action. Waiting until the fifteenth was out, so that left only one alternative as far as she could see, and that gave her two days to prepare.
She was going to hit Hannigan on poker night.
Chapter Five
"I’m all in."
Alistair pushed in a stack of purple chips and four of the five men at the table groaned.
He'd been doing it all night, like a fiend. The constant pressure and aggression was taking the fun out of it for most of the guys who'd come more for the booze and camaraderie than for the game. That clearly wasn’t the motive for Alistair, though. Once the chips were on the table, his eyes had gone glassy and all that chatter he seemed so fond of faded to silence.
Because Alistair Hannigan had a serious gambling problem.
Jake had long suspected it when he’d last vetted the man’s finances. While Alistair was still very wealthy, there had been a steady decline of liquid assets over the past few years in spite of an increase in revenue. That meant he was bleeding money somewhere that couldn’t be accounted for. As Jake watched the other man scoop in his winnings with trembling hands, he knew for certain where the leak was.
With the estate staff having already been sent home for the night, and the host’s attention fixated so intently on the action, if ever there was a chance to make something happen, tonight was it. Now to be patient and not force the issue. He needed to make sure Alistair was thoroughly distracted before slipping away.
The next two hours dragged by as Jake bided his time. He'd just folded pocket kings --the winning hand-- to Alistair’s nines, sacrificing a twenty thousand dollar pot when he made his move, letting loose with a string of curses and pushed his chair away from the table.
"Deal me out, boys. I need a drink after that one."
As Alistair gloated, Jake moved toward the short sideboard that held a decanter of thirty-year-old single malt along with a bucket of ice and a neat stack of rocks glasses. He plunked a couple of cubes into his glass and splashed three fingers of amber liquid over it, gaze trained on the hallway a few feet away.
"I'm going to hit the loo," he muttered, satisfied at the half-assed chorus of grunts that greeted his announcement. He set down his drink and stepped out into the hallway, careful to stay as quiet as possible, one ear cocked. When he reached the bathroom, he flipped on the light switch and closed the door, but didn't go in. Instead, he continued silently down the hall, taking a moment to peer into each of the darkened rooms as he passed. Just as the blueprints had shown, the wing was comprised mostly of bonus rooms. A small library, followed by a den and then what appeared to be a massage room. Still no sign of anyone on the premises.
He reached the top of the grand staircase that led to the main floor and took a quick glance down. The place was cheerily lit, and not a creature stirred there either. Time to make his move.
He passed the wide staircase and made his way down the opposite corridor toward Alistair’s office. If the door was unlocked, he could be in and out in two minutes or less. If not, he’d have to take time to pick the lock. He’d been practicing almost daily, but the more intricate mechanisms still took up to five minutes to crack. His plan had been to spend this visit doing more recon so he would know what he was up against, but with Mike and his team sniffing around, the time for pussyfooting around had passed. It was now or never, and he’d just have to hope that lady luck was on his side.
He reached the office door and palmed the knob, saying a quick prayer.
“Come on, ya fucker,” he murmured under his breath before turning his wrist. To his relief, the knob gave way without pause and he blew out a long sigh. Halfway home.
He pushed the door open slowly and stepped into the room. Unlike the rooms down the opposite wing, this one was only partially darkened, with the rest bathed in moonlight pouring in from the floor-to-ceiling window that took up the length of the back wall.
He skirted the perimeter of the office until he reached Alistair’s desk. Popping a squat, he powered on the computer and reached into the pocket of his trousers to pull out two items. One was a thumb-drive, and the other was a disk-shaped device about half the size of a penny.
He plugged the drive into the input of Alistair’s computer and set to work, entering the information he’d been given by a hacker associate who had instructed him on how to bypass password protection. He wasn’t sure if his tech expert would find exactly what he was looking for on the hard drive of this particular computer since Alistair also spent a fair amount of time in his Manhattan penthouse, but regardless, this little drive was also programmed to upload a bug that would allow Jake’s private investigator to read and/or intercept any incoming or outgoing emails from any account Alistair had ever logged into from this machine. If he was as crooked as Jake knew he was, the proof he sought should come very quickly.
And if not? While the PC did its thing, he slipped a hand beneath the desk and pressed the tiny, flat disk to the underside of the top drawer.
His attack was two-pronged. Alistair Hannigan loved to brag. All he had to do was make sure he was recording the bastard when he did it. It wouldn’t hold up in court, but it didn’t have to. Alistair would be tried by the court of public opinion. So long as he was left in financial and social ruin and Jake’s father was cleared of wrong-doing, he didn’t much care if Alistair spent a day in jail. Being a broke nobody would be a fate worse than death for a man like Alistair.
The light on the mini-drive went green indicating that the download was complete and Jake unplugged the drive and glanced at his watch. Less than five minutes. So long as he headed back now and no one had needed the john, he should be in the clear.
He made to stand but a movement in his periphery caught his attention, and he froze in place. Maybe one of the dogs roaming the grounds?
Motionless but for the turning of his head, he peered out the massive window, every nerve-ending firing off at once as his brain processed what he was seeing.
Twenty yards away, kneeling beside a neat row of azaleas was Sadie Van Bergen, Waitress-Countess of Bavaria. This time, she was dressed as a stocky maid, but even crouching, that dancer’s posture and swanlike neck were dead giveaways.
He stared, brain abuzz at this new turn of events. What the hell was she about? Nothing good, that much he knew, but that didn’t stop his heart from thrumming with a dual rush of adrenaline and anticipation. Which was bonkers because her presence meant one thing for sure.
She hadn’t given up on Alistair at all.
She’d just changed her plan of attack and was either about to rob him now, planning to rob him later, or already had and was on her way out.
Son of a bitch.
He watched as she looked around before scurrying across the lawn toward the back of the house and out of sight.
He stood and padded quickly out of the office and back toward the poker room, mind reeling. Sadie had definitely thr
own a wrench in his works. Time to do some damage control.
"Good God, man, this place is bloody massive,” he said to Alistair as he stepped back into the room. “That bathroom is big enough to put a bed in it.”
Perfect thing to say apparently, because the peacock preened and strutted, making sure to share with the table exactly how many dollars the estate had set him back.
It was Jake’s own perverse sense of humor that made him delight in saying, "I do appreciate the meal and the game, but something I ate isn't sitting well with me, I'm afraid."
"I'm sure it was nothing you were served here," Alistair muttered, looking at the other men for confirmation. They all nodded like the bobbleheaded suck-ups they were, but Jake raised his brows and lifted one shoulder in a non-committal shrug.
"I can't say for sure, but the shrimp did taste a little off." He waved a hand like it didn't matter either way, and pushed the rest of his chips toward Alistair. "Either way, I'm sure I'll feel better tomorrow. Hang onto these and just record my stake since I'll be back next week...if that's all right with you?"
He was down fifteen thousand dollars, and Alistair and the rest of the men were all in happy agreement to let him return for another week of losing.
Even if he never returned for it, fifteen thousand was a small price to pay in order to skip out early and make sure he didn't lose any of the ground he'd gained.
Because no matter how sexy, ballsy, or damned intriguing she was, he wasn’t about to let Sadie the Waitress take this from him.
***
Sadie stared at the estate in the distance and peered at her watch once more. Ten fifty-three and, as expected, the last of the servants was long gone. She’d given herself more than enough time to ensure that none of them would come back for a forgotten cell phone or misplaced house keys.
She rose and grabbed the black leather satchel at her side, and scurried from the copse of trees she'd been hiding in to cross the expansive lawn. Alistair had two dogs, Gus and Lito, both of whom began to bark at the movement but quickly changed their tune when they caught her scent.
Catch Me if You Can Page 5
