by Penny Wylder
“If you don’t believe me, I left the burner phone we were using for the heist, turned off and with the SIM card removed, in the same place as the cash. When you go to pick that up, you can listen to the voicemails yourself. Hear your father condemn an innocent woman and child to death, just so he can be sure he’s not pursued.”
When I open my eyes again, Ashley is white-faced, staring at me in open-mouthed shock. But she isn’t saying no anymore.
“I’m sorry, Ashley,” I repeat, softer now. “But you need to know. If you’re following in his footsteps, you need to know who Mauricio Marrón truly is.”
Ashley sucks in a deep breath. “God…”
“I hid the money. I knew the next thing your father would do would be to come after me, finish me next, as soon as he had his hands on that cash. It was the only leverage I had. So, once I hid it, I went to the safest place I could think of.” I shrug a little, half a sardonic smile coming to my mouth. “Then I turned myself in. Turned myself in, and I told the cops that Eric’s family was in danger, and they should move them to a safe place, which they’ve done.”
“Damon…” Ashley reaches up to cup my cheek. Her palm feels soft against the rough stubble of my cheek. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea…my father said you’d killed all three of them.”
I shake my head. Tilt my forehead against hers again. “It’s my own fault. I knew the risks when I agreed to work for your father. But you, you don’t deserve this, Ashley. You don’t deserve to be trapped with a man like him as your family. I’ll tell you where the money is hidden, but just promise me that you’ll use it to get yourself away from him.” I reach up to cup her face between my palms, draw her closer to me, desperate. “Run. Somewhere, anywhere, far away from his schemes and his lies. He’s a terrible person, and it’s only a matter of time before he drags you deeper into his mess. You deserve a better life than this.”
“But you don’t deserve this,” she whispers, reaching up to wrap her arms around my neck. “You don’t deserve to be trapped here, imprisoned for a murder you didn’t commit. You should never have taken the blame for that. Talk to your lawyer, see about getting an appeal, Damon.”
I laugh a little. “For the daughter of a mobster, Ashley, you can be so innocent.” The laugh dies away. “I took a plea deal already. That means no hope of parole or further appeals. I admitted guilt, because, like my crappy state-appointed lawyer told me, there wasn’t any proof I didn’t kill Eric, and besides, I robbed the bank, there’s camera footage of me in the vault. Only me. For all anyone else knows, I did this alone. And it doesn’t help that I didn’t give up the money.”
“So give it up and tell the truth.”
“I don’t care about the truth,” I say, louder than I intend to, my hands tightening on Ashley’s shoulders. She freezes, eyes wide with disbelief. “I don’t,” I repeat, softer now. “The truth never saved me before, and it won’t save me now. All that matters is that Eric’s wife and daughter are safe. That, and I can keep hiding the cash from your father. If at least, after all this, that’s the only small vengeance I can get from this mess, well, I’ve made my peace with that. I only wish I could get the money to Eric’s family, but, of course, no way to do that without tipping off your father too…”
“I’ll do it,” she says.
Now it’s my turn to stare at her in surprise. “Ashley…”
“No, please, I mean it. It’s the least I can do. Damon, after everything you’ve been through… Let me help you with this. Let me do this one thing, right this one wrong.”
I search her gaze one last time. If Ashley’s lying right now, this could ruin everything. Get her father’s grubby hands on that cash, get me killed, since I won’t have any leverage left to hold over him, any more reasons for him to keep me alive. But if she’s lying right now, then she is the best goddamn actress I’ve ever met. Because I see nothing in her big brown eyes but pain and heartache and… something else.
Maybe… affection?
Ashley leans in and kisses my lips once more, softly. “Let me do this for you,” she whispers against my mouth.
Just then, someone pounds on the door to the room. “Time’s about up, lovebirds!” the guard shouts through the metal door.
Ashley doesn’t move, doesn’t reach for her clothes, even though she’s still stark naked. Hell, so am I. Neither of us cares. Not right now.
“I’m assuming your father knows where I lived?” I whisper.
She nods.
I pull her close, just as keys jimmy in the lock. “Under the floorboards of my bedroom, there’s a key. Take it to the lockers at the bus station. Farthest one at the back. It’s all in there.”
The door swings open, and I reach down to yank the sheets up to cover Ashley, just in time, as the guard elbows his way inside. Walton. I never liked that guy.
“Well, you two certainly don’t waste any precious seconds,” Walton comments. Then he sneers and eyes Ashley’s body beneath the sheet. “Not that I can say I blame you, Tell. What I wouldn’t do to get a piece of that ass…”
“Close the damn door,” I hiss through clenched teeth.
“Your visitation hour is up.”
I shift in bed, so that Ashley can remain lying down, safely covered. Then I shove to my feet and plant myself facing Walton, not bothering to cover anything. I’m at least a head taller than him, and have plenty more muscle to go around, judging by his narrow arms under that drab uniform. “Close the door and let my fiancée get dressed,” I repeat.
He narrows his eyes. “You don’t get any extra time, Tell.”
“I’m not asking for extra time. I just want her to be allowed to dress herself properly, without an audience gawking at her.” I lift a brow, pointed. “Or would you like me to explain to your supervisor what inappropriate terms you were using to address my fiancée?”
His jaw tenses, tightens. I can practically see the tiny cogs churning behind his eyes, as he calculates whether he’d win over me. But then he glances at the bed, probably remembering Ashley’s surname, or the reason we’re in this private room—because her daddy is one of the most powerful men in the state. Without another word, Walton turns around and slams the door behind him.
“Thank you,” Ashley says, as I reach down to hand her her bra.
“Anything for you,” I say, and as the words come out of my mouth, I realize they’re true.
She smiles. Steps up beside me and wraps an arm around my neck. I bend down for one last, long, lingering kiss. I’ll have to savor this one. Have to remember what she tastes like, smells like, feels like, in all the long, lonely years to come.
When we pull apart again, she’s still smiling. “My turn to do you a favor, Damon Tell,” she whispers.
7
“It’s here?” Dad asks.
I pause in the doorway of the room and nod.
“It can’t be,” he says. “We already searched this room. We searched the whole damn house.”
“Do you trust me or not, Dad?” I ask.
He scowls. “I don’t trust Damon Tell, and he’s the one whose information we’re working with.”
“No. We’re working with my information now,” I reply. That, at least, is true. After all, I already came here ahead of time, got the key, which was exactly where Damon told me it would be, underneath the floorboards of his bedroom. I went to the locker in the bus station, retrieved the bag, counted every penny. It was all there.
Then I dropped it off where it needed to go. To the people who truly deserved it: Mrs. Brown and her daughter. I gave it to them to help them start their new life, far away from here.
But Dad doesn’t need to know that. Not yet.
I step closer to him. “Damon actually talked quite a lot, you know, once I started asking the right questions.”
Dad’s eyebrows rise. “Good, you’re learning. Now where in this room did he say the money would be? Is there a secret panel, a hidden door?”
“A loose floorboard, believe it or
not,” I say, a slow smile beginning on my face. Dad’s eyes light up, greed evident behind that shark-like grin. How did I never see it before? How did I never realize what a monster he was? I knew he was a bad person. Knew he had his rages, his fits of anger. I knew he did bad things, stole and lied and cheated people. But not this. Nothing like this.
I should have seen it sooner.
Dad reaches for the floorboards. I plant a stiletto heel on the ground, just over the loose board. “Not so fast, Dad,” I say.
His eyes narrow. “Ashley…”
“I just want to clear one thing up first. Then we’ll get the money squared away.” I lift an eyebrow as I say that.
“Ashley, we don’t have time for this.”
“Trust me, you’re going to want to make time for this.” I catch his eye and hold it, my own gaze steady as steel. “Someone is on to us, Dad.”
His brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, Damon is telling a different story than the one you told me. And I’m not the only one he’s telling it to. People know what really went down in the bank.”
“What people?” he asks immediately, his tone sharpening.
I notice he doesn’t ask what I mean, about what really went down in the bank. “So it’s true then.” I take a step closer to him, chin lifted. “You planned the whole heist.”
“Of course. You think an idiot like Damon could have put this together?” he scoffs.
“Not just that.” I shake my head. “You killed Eric Brown.”
“I didn’t pull the trigger, if that’s what you’re asking,” he snaps.
“But you ordered it done. Ordered one of your men to do it.”
“Ashley, it was nothing personal. A job is a job. I thought I raised you to understand that.”
“Oh, you did, Dad. But I need to hear you say it now. I need to understand just how far you’d go for your jobs. How badly you want this cash.” I stomp my foot on the floorboard I’m standing over for emphasis. It wiggles a little, still loose from when I pried it up earlier. Dad’s eyes flash to it, and I can see the hunger in his gaze sharpen.
“I ordered him killed. To protect us, Ashley, to protect this family. He’d seen my face, he knew my identity. He could have destroyed everything we have, everything we’ve worked so hard and so long to build together.”
“And his wife? His daughter?”
Dad waves a hand, dismissive. “I had some men follow them, told them to keep them quiet if they threatened to talk. But neither of them were anywhere to be found. I guess the wife is smarter than her man, and went to ground. That’s fine by me; I’ll leave them alone as long as they keep silent.”
“You told me they were dead. And you would have had them killed, too, if they hadn’t disappeared. Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Why the sudden third degree, Ashley? Why the change of heart? We’ve always been in this together. You’ve been showing so much initiative, investigating Damon for me, taking on more responsibility at the company… This is part of that responsibility. You want to be the heir to this fortune, then you need to understand where it comes from.”
“From bloodshed, from the sound of it. I thought we didn’t kill people, Dad.”
“We don’t kill innocent people. Eric Brown was far from innocent.”
“What did he do beside own a bank that you wanted to plunder?” I snap.
“Nobody is innocent, Ashley,” he replies, face flushing. “Now, I’ve had just about enough of your games. Move aside and let me have the money. This has gone on long enough.”
“Oh, I agree, Dad. It has definitely gone on far too long.” I step aside. Dad bends down to reach for the loose board.
He’s got his fingers wrapped around the loose edge, kneeling on the floor, bent over it like a kid opening a present on Christmas morning, when the door slams against the wall, and booted feet storm into the room.
“Freeze!”
“Hands on your head!”
“Nobody move!”
Cops swarm into the room, at least five of them. I lose count in the blur, as one of them grabs me and whisks me aside to safety. I hear the clink of handcuffs being clamped over my father’s wrists, followed by the sound of one of the other officers reading him his rights.
Dad just stares right past him, right past all of them, directly at me. I’m standing off to one side, untouched, one of the officers at my side giving me a fond pat on the shoulder.
I smile, just for Dad’s benefit. Because I’m enjoying the shocked, gut-punched look on his face right now. “You’re right, Dad,” I say conversationally, just loud enough to be heard over the officer still reciting Dad’s rights. “You did teach me a lot. I’ve learned that a job is a job, all right. And I’ve learned what kind of jobs I want to take.” At that, I reach down and raise up the hem of my shirt. Just far enough to reveal the wire taped to my stomach, and the little speaker on my side that’s been transmitting our conversation to the police waiting outside the house.
“Excellent work, I might add, Ms. Marrón,” says the officer beside me. “Was that really your first time involved in a sting like this?”
Dad grits his teeth, lets out a growl through them. “You little traitor. You’d turn on your own kin? Your own blood?” Dad spits on the ground at my feet as the officers lift him to his feet, one on each side, and begin to haul him away toward the stairs. “You won’t get away with this,” he shouts after me. “There will be a reckoning.”
“There already has been,” I reply, grinning. “The reckoning is me.”
“Thank you again for everything,” the officer is saying. “If there’s anything more you need from us, any extra protection—”
“I won’t,” I answer, confident. “Dad can’t hurt me now. But thank you.”
It’s only later, after I’ve taken off the wire and given the my statement to the police, a statement as to my father’s character, the way he constantly threatened and abused the people around him to get them to do his bidding, and the way he’d threatened me with violence at times, his own daughter, that one of the cops thinks to ask.
“The money…” he starts.
I shake my head, biting the inside of my lip to maintain the straight, sorrowful face. “I looked everywhere. Damon guessed at where he thought my father’s other men would have hidden it, but…”
“That’s all right, Ms. Marrón. You’ve given us enough. Suppose we can’t look to you to do all of our jobs,” he replies with a chuckle.
I flash another broad smile and sign a few more statements, and then, just like that, by late afternoon, I’m free to go. And not a moment too soon. Because I’ve got a meeting to make.
“How,” is all he says as he walks out of the main gate of the prison.
The smile on my face is so wide it actually hurts my cheeks. “Don’t underestimate me, Damon,” I reply.
“Never again,” he swears. And then he’s at my side, sweeping me up into his arms, his mouth colliding with mine, claiming mine, and I lose myself in his kiss. His familiar scent fills my senses, and I wrap my arms around his neck, tilt my head and part my lips to let his tongue slide between my lips, tangle with mine. I lose track of time, of space. I don’t even think about where we are until someone in the distance clears his throat sharply.
“Might I suggest you get a room? A private one, perhaps?”
We turn to find one of the prison guards watching us, a single brow raised, and we both burst into laughter.
“Don’t worry,” Damon answers, one hand looping through mine as he speaks to the guard. “We’re out of your hair now.”
“Thank God,” we hear him mutter as we turn toward my car—the only one I managed to save from Dad’s garage before the cops came and seized everything as part of his arrest warrant.
Me, I got off easy. Made a deal for a complete pardon as long as I told them everything I knew about my father and his business, which at this point, I was more than happy to do. Every inch deepe
r the cops dug into his files, they uncovered new depths of depravity. There are more murders hidden in there, more cover-ups, more despicable things than I could have possibly imagined. I can’t believe I went along with it for so long, naively believing that I knew my father, that he would never sink so low.
Until Damon opened my eyes. Until I finally took a long hard look at the life I was signing up for.
As for Damon… “I don’t understand,” he says under his breath as we climb into my car. “How did you get me out of here? Even without the murder charge, I should be in for at least a decade for armed robbery.”
“Dad took the blame for that too,” I say, a sly smile curling my lips.
He frowns. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I… shall we say, persuaded him that it would be in his best interest to claim he blackmailed you into participating in that robbery.”
Damon tries to keep frowning, but his expression gets the best of him. A little smile starts to tick at the corner of his lips. “You’ve gotten better at bargaining since we first met, I take it.”
“I prefer to call it negotiating,” I reply with a flip of my hair, as I reach down for the keys. “And it wasn’t difficult. All I had to do was remind him of the men I have at my fingertips. His men, who would be very displeased with my father if I were to, say, call and tell them my father went to the cops and named names…”
Damon laughs softly. “Beating Marrón at his own game.”
“I’m a Marrón too,” I point out. “What can I say? I learned from the worst.” I grin, hard and pointed.
Damon leans across to cup my chin in his palm. His calloused fingers are rough against my soft skin, and it sends a shiver of delight up my spine. “Just promise me you’ll use your newfound negotiating powers for good,” he whispers.
“Always,” I murmur. Then he leans forward, and this time, when our lips meet, it’s soft and sweet. I close my eyes, let myself sink into him. And then, engine still idling, I let him wrap his hands around my waist and draw me up out of my seat. I slide across to the passenger side and straddle him, both hands buried in his thick hair. He runs his hands down my sides and slides them under the hem of my tight sheath dress. With a naughty grin, he starts to inch the dress higher on my hips.
