No. She hadn’t gotten that sense from him. With all the anger radiating off of him, she would’ve crawled under the table if she’d sensed violence.
“What’s the story with Lynne?” It couldn’t be true. Flynn was too caring to leave his sister floundering. He’d described his mom as a bitter, awful person. He wouldn’t leave someone who couldn’t help themselves with someone like that. Would he?
“It’s, uh… It’s exactly as he said. I left home and never looked back. I send money to Mom for Lynne’s care.”
“You send money,” she echoed. “You pay her off to not bother you with her?”
“No.” His voice lacked conviction.
“Was Mr. Woods right?” She shivered, dark anticipation crawling up and down her spine. She glanced around like police officers were going to jump out of every corner and arrest her.
“I…” Flynn raised his tortured gaze to hers. “This is so much bigger than us. My company employs a lot of people. For some of them, it’s their primary income. They have families.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You’re not going to help me?”
“No, of course I will.”
“How?” She flicked the lid of the to-go box and his expression clouded over. “By feeding me? Should we do this in secret so we aren’t seen together?” She stood up and reached for the leftover chicken breast but snatched her hand back. A small gesture for pride’s sake. “What’s your excuse for not helping your sister? I can’t imagine her image will take down your empire.”
A muscle jumped in Flynn’s jaw. His expression was tortured. Worried for himself?
Tilly spun and stormed out, her bag flung over her shoulder and knocking into people. She almost shouted, “So sue me!” but this crowd actually would.
Hot tears streamed down her face and she ignored all the faces turned her way. She was so glad she had half a tank of gas left and hadn’t ridden here with Flynn. Why hadn’t she learned as a kid? There was no one there for her. It was me, myself, and I in this world and in her case, all three of them might go to jail.
Chapter Fourteen
Don’t cry yet. Tilly listened to her principal explain the terms of her leave. “Yes, sir. No, I understand.” She understood he’d drop her like she was Thor’s hammer if the school got anything more than a whiff of her personal turmoil. If this wasn’t resolved by the time school started, she might not have a job to go back to. And he’d made it clear that if she got arrested for something like child abuse, she’d be terminated.
She’d never said fuck my life after all she’d survived, but it was coming close.
She cruised through the help-wanted ads online. Anything with kids was obviously out. It was like flushing four years of college down the drain.
After the confrontation with Mr. Woods and witnessing the real Flynn Halstengard Tuesday night, she’d come back and cried herself to sleep. Then she’d strapped on her lady balls and searched for work all day yesterday.
Today, she was still unemployed. All her clients had abandoned her, and she wanted to hate them all but couldn’t. They had done what they felt was right for their kids, even though she was perfect for their kids, had helped them in so many ways. School was starting in over a month. Would the kids get set up with more tutoring before then? Or would their skills stagnate until then?
She told herself not to worry, but she couldn’t. She’d invested so much of herself in their futures, it was hard to not even be able to walk away. They were gone to her. If she waited for things to blow over, could she build her business back up, or would rumors circulate and forever tarnish her reputation?
She had a feeling she knew the answer.
Her parents. That asshole had tracked down her parents. Her dad had blamed her for the dead cat, when she’d sobbed over the limp body as her own took the most severe beating of her life.
A car accident? Anyone stupid enough to believe she could break only her jaw in a car accident didn’t deserve a dime, much less a fucking bank.
She wanted to lean on Flynn so badly. Her platinum-haired knight in shining gym wear, coming to chase away the mean girls throwing litter. Why had he helped her all those years ago?
It was before he’d left home. Before he’d left his mom and sister. Was his mom really as bad as he’d said? Or was it like her parents, spreading a different story of hate than what had really happened?
She tapped Flynn’s name into her computer. She sifted through several recent articles about him and his work until she found his dad’s obituary. A plain and simple article that listed his kids Flynn and Lynne as survivors. The cause of death was drowning.
From the year, he would’ve been fourteen, maybe fifteen. Poor kid, losing his dad so young and taking care of his mom and sister.
No. She couldn’t feel sorry for him when she didn’t know his circumstances. He certainly hadn’t told her. Nor had he disputed Mr. Woods’s insinuation that he was paying his mother off to leave him alone and keep quiet about his sister.
She wanted to believe the best. So badly. Yet he wasn’t here. He hadn’t called. He’d let her leave and hadn’t come after her with an explanation. Despite what Mr. Woods had said about Flynn’s mom, his reputation at work meant more.
After all, he hadn’t invited her to bring lunch again. As if that moment in the office had had too much of the feels. As if he’d never put her on his arm and call her his girlfriend.
There was nothing she could do about him. She had to help herself. Tapping around on her keyboard, she eventually spit out Mrs. Woods’s full name. A search turned up nothing. No honors. No top of her class. She’d probably been a spoiled girl who’d gotten her way, then found a man to give her everything she asked for with minimal work.
That hadn’t been Tilly’s future. She’d had to scrape to keep out of the gutter. Yet people suspected her of hitting a child when Mrs. Woods was the one with a Hulk-sized cruel streak.
She pulled up Mrs. Blumenthal’s number and dialed it. When the woman answered, Tilly explained her situation.
“Oh, dear, that’s bad. Yes, thanks to your man friend, I’ll give you two free months of rent. That’s what it would’ve cost if I’d had to pay the deductible.”
Tilly slumped, letting her eyelids fall closed. Finding a place to rent in the cities was hard enough, but a nice and reasonable place was almost impossible. And she had no extra money for a deposit or first and last months’ rent. “Thank you so much. I wasn’t sure what I’d do. I just need to find a temporary job to tide me over.”
“I’ll call my son. He’s always looking for help in his grocery store in Bloomington. What hours can you work?”
“Anything and everything.” For the first time in days, she smiled. Just being able to bring in an income, even save some money, would take a load of stress off her mind.
“Okay, let me call him. Can I give him your number?”
“Of course. And thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“It’s no problem, Tilly. You’re my best tenant, and I don’t believe that load of shit for one second.”
“Between you and me, I think Charlie’s mom beat him.” Tilly snapped her mouth shut. Where had that come from? But it made sense. Mrs. Woods was the only other person with consistent access to Charlie. For all his many, many faults, and no matter how he’d treated Tilly, Mr. Woods seemed to truly care about Charlie’s welfare. “I honestly wouldn’t put it past her to do it when I was working, or when the nanny was there, so she had someone to blame it on.”
“That shouldn’t be between you and me, Tilly. Tell the police.” After a few more encouragements to hang in there, she hung up.
Who’d believe her, with the pull Mr. Woods had?
Mrs. Blumenthal had her back, though. Tilly sighed. Her boyfriend was too concerned about his image to stay by her side, but her landlady believed her. So there was that.
She didn’t want to get too excited after the call, so she cruised more help-wanted ads. Scribbling down her choices fro
m best to worst, she listed all the jobs she thought she’d be competent at and where her potential legal woes wouldn’t be a problem. Basically, a place that wouldn’t vilify her if word reached them about what she’d been accused of.
Her phone rang. For a moment, she fervently hoped it was Flynn checking on her. She didn’t recognize the number.
Foolish girl.
She answered. It was Mrs. Blumenthal’s son, offering her a job. She could start tomorrow, stocking shelves on the graveyard shift.
She clicked her phone off after agreeing to start at eleven p.m. the next night. She’d work all weekend, eleven to seven. It wasn’t like she had lessons to plan all day for the rest of the summer.
There was knock at the door. Her heart leaped into her throat. Flynn?
She sprinted across the room to answer it. Without even checking her peephole, she swung the door open.
Two police officers, a male and a female, waited on her stoop.
“Tilly Johnson?”
***
“Flynn? Dude? Mr. Halstengard, sir?”
Flynn glanced up at the sarcastic tone. Matthew stared at him, one manicured brow raised. “You never call me Mr. Halstengard.”
“Because it’d be a waste of air after two years as your PA. But, dude, you so weren’t listening to me. Do you want your hair appointment after your suit fitting so you don’t shed little stubs all over new threads you haven’t bought yet?”
“Yeah, I don’t care.” And he really didn’t. Usually he did, was very particular about what he wore and when he upgraded his work clothes. Always the best image possible.
“Seriously.” Matthew set his tablet down. “I’m going to step out of bounds here, so fair warning. Now I’m not oblivious. You came back from your bachelor vacation a moody beast. Then you were skiing on rainbows for the last few weeks. I even got home at a decent hour every single night. And you didn’t call or leave messages at all on the weekends. Don’t think I haven’t been dying to know who the cutie is that Mrs. Silverstein was horrified she almost kicked out. What’s her name?”
Flynn stared at the door. How many times since that awful night had he wished Mrs. Silverstein would notify him of a girl who’d brought him lunch and wouldn’t leave?
Tilly had taken the news of Lynne pretty hard. She’d seemed more hurt that he hadn’t been completely honest with her. But the look of total betrayal when he’d chosen his career over her was a knife in the gut every time the image ran through his head. He hadn’t seen it that way at the time; he would’ve been there for her, but every time he came to work and didn’t phone his legal department, he imagined himself stomping the knife in her back even deeper.
He hadn’t heard more from John. Perhaps he could finish the project and sign off on everything without incident. The man must not have found anything on Tilly. Of course, how would Flynn know?
Matthew snapped his fingers. “You’re spacing on me again. Woman problems?”
“You’re right. You’re stepping out of bounds.”
Matthew’s lips pressed together, and he snatched up his tablet like, well then.
Flynn should apologize. His phone rang. Wes. Was he calling for a golf date? Cuz Flynn could get lost in eighteen holes for a while.
“Just a minute,” he told Matthew, then answered.
“What. The hell. Is going on?” Wes’s voice shook. He was livid.
“What the fuck are you talking about? Wait.” Flynn sat forward. “Is Tilly okay? Did that bastard get to her?”
“No, Tilly’s not okay, fuckwad. Mara just bailed her out.”
Flynn slammed his hand on the table. Matthew jumped but stayed where he was. “Where is she?”
“Not Arkham anymore, no thanks to you. Mara and I barely got the story out of her in the first place. Then she was incoherent when Mara and I didn’t know you two were seeing each other. Why the hell would you keep that secret?”
Flynn sank his face into his free hand. “We haven’t talked much in the last few weeks. I’ve been busy.”
“Yeah, with Tilly, I hear. How is all this shit connected?”
“Where is she?” The only thing pushing to the front of his mind was Tilly’s well-being. She’d been arrested and thrown in jail. For how long?
Wes let out a breath of frustration. “She’s home. She only called because she was frantic to make the first shift of her new job since that asshole blasted her career.”
His Tilly wasn’t going to sit at home and lose hope. “When does she leave for work?”
It was four o’clock on a Friday. Where would she be working?
“Not till tonight. I guess it’s some night-shift job stocking shelves.”
Flynn shot up. Matthew’s eyes widened. He’d been riveted to Flynn’s side of the conversation. Tilly was going to be working herself into the ground all night long?
Meanwhile, who the fuck beat that kid and was getting away with it?
“Wes, you helped out Mara with some legal issues, right?”
“No. Oh, you mean the sleazy professor. I did that whether she wanted me to or not.”
Flynn caught Matthew’s gaze. “Your partner’s a cop, right?”
“Yup.”
“Does he know legal shit?”
Matthew rolled his eyes. “Please, half his job is pleasing or pissing off lawyers.”
“What about cases of child abuse? Does he deal with that?”
Matthew sobered. “More than anyone would realize.”
Flynn hit the speaker on his phone. “Okay, guys. I need some help.”
Chapter Fifteen
Tilly slogged into her house. The hot July sun was already up, and it wasn’t even eight in the morning.
Her muscles ached. Her job—her former job—had been active, but it was nothing like her new one. It was moving her body for eight hours up and down stools, filling bins, lining goods on shelves, emptying boxes.
She’d missed the entire weekend. Work, sleep, repeat was all she’d done.
Because now she had to pay Mara back the bail money. She had a court-appointed lawyer. So there was that.
She trudged to her computer. No messages. Nothing on her calendar. She didn’t have another shift until the weekend. That meant when she woke up, she’d have to find another job.
Speaking of work. She pulled up the email from her boss at the school. She had resigned, effective immediately. There was no use putting him in the difficult position of prolonging the inevitable. Clearing her name against Mr. Woods’s accusations would prove impossible.
Kicking off her shoes, she didn’t bother with her clothing. She collapsed into bed and threw an arm over her face. The inability of her blinds to keep out the sun had escaped her notice before now. They were threadbare, and light shone right onto her bed.
Her phone rang.
Dammit. Who the hell would bother her at this ungodly hour?
She didn’t recognize the number but that wasn’t unusual during the past week.
“Tilly Johnson?” It was a woman’s voice, someone she didn’t know.
“Yep.” Tilly kept her arm over her face.
“I’m Luna O’Donnell, the attorney who’s been hired for your case.”
“Oh, the court-appointed one?” But the guy who’d been at her arraignment had been, well, a guy. And clearly unimpressed with her suspicions in Charlie’s case.
“No, ma’am. Flynn Halstengard hired me.” Tilly bolted upright and almost dropped the phone. Luna kept talking. “I have some documents to go over with you, and then some questions about your experience with Charles Woods and his dad, John Woods. What time can you meet?”
“Flynn hired you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“What about his precious business?” Bitterness seeped through her tone, but she was beyond caring.
“The corporation has attorneys assigned to it in that regard. I’m dedicated solely to you.”
Tilly couldn’t respond. He’d hired her a lawyer. After he’d t
aken care of his own company. She wasn’t nothing to him, but she wasn’t his priority, either.
His best friend hadn’t even known about them. Flynn was so considerate in private—except for that one time at the theater with Becky. He hadn’t shouted his love for her. But he hadn’t pointed out that she was the crazy lady who’d bid for him, either. So, he’d stood up for her, but at the same time, he hadn’t.
Kind of like high school.
He’d been nice enough to her, but he hadn’t. Crazy J.
“Miss Johnson, we’d like to conduct our own investigation into the identity of Charlie Woods’s abuser. Can we meet to talk?”
Not when she’d been up all night. “Want to find out Charlie’s abuser? Let’s see, since they couldn’t keep a nanny, I’d ask the Stepford mom exactly how Charlie got his bruises.”
Luna was quiet on the other end. Was she taking notes, or did she have the blank look Tilly’s court-appointed attorney had given her?
There was a knock at her door.
“For the love of God, can’t a girl get some rest around here?”
“Excuse me, Miss Johnson?”
“Not you. Look, I’m tired and I have to talk to Mr. Halstengard about this arrangement first. But unless you’re going to be the kind of lawyer who cares that I don’t end up in jail, who’ll gun for the real abuser, and who’ll legal-speak my parents into the ground for what they said about me, I may as well stick with my listless court-appointed attorney. Thanks.” She tossed the phone on her nightstand and went to answer the door, Luna already forgotten. Why get her hopes up?
She didn’t bother to check who it was. Last time had turned out pretty swell. She was a hardened criminal now, could take whatever was on the other side of that door.
A rumpled-looking Flynn greeted her. His gaze drank her in like a man starved of water, but she steeled herself. She needed her fortitude to fight the good fight, and from what she’d learned the last time they were together, the good fight wasn’t Flynn.
“I, uh… Did a lawyer get ahold of you?”
She draped one hand on the doorknob and the other on her hip. “You’ll have to be more specific, Flynn. I suddenly have a lot of lawyers in my life.”
Highest Bidder (Fanboys Book 2) Page 14
