Every Waking Moment

by Meryl Sawyer

  “That’s right. It’s supposed to go directly to the tribe, but a few Seminoles got greedy and took some off the top. They tunneled it through El Tambor into a private bank account.”

  “El Tambor’s owners must have taken a cut.”

  “Absofuckinglutely.”

  “Was Jim Wilson in on it?”

  “It’s hard to say. He was there at the time, but he got out before the raid.”

  “Sounds a little too convenient for me. He’s an accountant, a smart guy. He must have known what they were doing.”

  “Maybe one of the brothers will cop a plea and roll over on everyone involved,” Vince said. “Even if Wilson was in on it, does that mean he tampered with the Web site?”

  “Possibly. The coded material could refer to offshore bank accounts or it could be a way of letting the Seminoles involved see where the money is going.”

  “It would work. Post the info on the Web site, but keep it cleverly hidden. People could be anywhere and never have to meet face-to-face. The police would have a hell of a time linking all of those in on the scam.”

  Shane discussed the firebomb with Vince and learned the police had no leads. He hung up, thinking about Taylor. They were close now.

  Was it time to tell her the whole truth?

  Putting it off would only make it harder. He didn’t know how she’d take it. She had a lot going on right now, and the firebomb had added to her problems.

  He wondered how she felt about their relationship. He loved her, no question about it.

  Deep in her heart did she still feel a flicker of love for Paul Ashton?

  Did she still pray at night for him to return?

  Taylor walked in a few seconds later. Just one look at her face, and he knew things had not gone well with her mother. Now was not the time to bring up Paul Ashton.

  “What’s the matter?” He put his arm around Taylor and pulled her close.

  “My mother insists on giving an elaborate funeral for Renata. She wants me to call her friends and let them know about the services. It’s going to be so hard on her. I don’t know if she has the strength to live through it.”

  Shane kissed her forehead. “Man, oh, man. I don’t know what to tell you.”

  “A smaller graveside ceremony would be better, but she won’t hear of it. If Trent had been there to help me, I might have talked her into it, but he’s off looking for Raoul.”

  Shane led her into the kitchen, saying, “I fixed us a seafood salad. Why don’t we eat?”

  “You made dinner?” A hitching little smile tugged at her lips. “A guy after my own heart.”

  He patted her cute butt. “I’m after more than just your heart.”

  She sat down, and he poured her a glass of pinot grigio, then served the simple salad he’d prepared earlier. While he worked, he explained what he’d learned about Jim Wilson and the bingo skim.

  “You think our Web site is being used by criminals who are stealing money from Native Americans?”

  “It’s a possibility. Whatever is going on can’t be legal or someone wouldn’t have taken the time to hide it on your Web site in code.”

  “Lisa has hired Jim. He might do something to ruin her business.”

  “Or get her into trouble with the law if he hides anything on her Web site.”

  Taylor took a forkful of salad and chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “I should warn her. After all she’s been through, it wouldn’t be fair to not let her know she’s hired a criminal.”

  “We can’t prove a thing—yet. If you tell her about the problem with the Web site, she might mention it to Jim. He could delete it before we can prove anything.”

  “I already told her. I asked her if she knew the codes, if Trent had left them around when they were married. I had the codes on a piece of paper in my desk at home, so I wondered if Trent had, too. Of course, they were destroyed by the fire.”

  Shane checked his watch. “Let’s see if we can meet her for a drink after we finish. If she hasn’t already mentioned the problem with the Web site to Wilson, we can warn her to keep quiet.”

  Two hours later, Taylor was sitting in the VIP section of Bash, one of SoBe’s trendy clubs. Her head had been throbbing since the meeting with her mother, and the music here wasn’t helping.

  “It’s not like Lisa to be late,” she told Shane.

  “She’s probably hung up in traffic.”

  They ordered mojitos, the Cuban cocktail made from lime juice and rum. Taylor recalled what her uncle had said earlier that day.

  “Shane, do you think someone might have intended to firebomb your place, but got mine by mistake?”

  “What?” Shane’s dark brows shot up.

  “Well, your work before you came here put you in contact with dangerous people, didn’t it?”

  Shane gazed at her in the intent way she’d come to expect.

  “If any of them had a grudge against me, they’d try to kill me. That firebomb was meant to scare—not kill.”

  “I guess you’re right, but the courtyard is a little dark, and it was raining. It could easily have been a mistake.”

  “I’d like to think it was a mistake, but I’m worried.” Shane put down his mojito. “I think you might be in danger.”

  For a second, Taylor didn’t take him seriously, but then she realized his expression, his eyes were steeped in genuine concern.

  “What kind of danger?”

  “I don’t know, but one woman is already dead. I want you to be very careful. Don’t go anywhere alone. I’ll follow you to work. People are around you all day. If you need to go to your mother’s or someplace, I’ll take you.”

  “Who would want to harm me?” She’d asked herself this question dozens of times and still couldn’t come up with an answer.

  “It’s probably linked to your mother’s money or the sale of the company. I’m not sure. My gut instinct says you’re in danger.”

  Shane wasn’t the kind of man to cry wolf, she decided. He was truly worried about her. A strange, alien sensation unfurled deep in her chest.

  Gratitude and perhaps something more.

  When times were bad, the way they were now, having someone care about you was priceless.

  “I’m wondering if Raoul might be involved in this somehow,” she said, then took a sip of her drink. “He asked Uncle Doyle for a hundred thousand dollars to get out of Miami, out of Trent’s life.”

  “He did? Interesting. The man has a strange past. At one point he was suicidal and had to be hospitalized after a breakup with a woman. Then he moves to SoBe and decides he’s gay.”

  “Men are often conflicted about their sexuality. Look at my brother. He was happily married—or so we thought.”

  “Raoul could be bisexual. It’s very ‘in’ these days. It really isn’t any of our business. What matters is whether or not he’s involved in this mess. Money would be a good reason to kill. With you and Renata out of the way, Trent would inherit your mother’s money.”

  She shook her head. “My mother hasn’t decided what to do about a new will. She may not leave either of us anything.”

  “Does Trent know this?”

  “No. Uncle Doyle is going to talk to him tonight. He’s going to tell him about the will and about the money Raoul wants.”

  An old memory tiptoed out of one of the dark corridors of her mind. Those first days after Paul had disappeared, she’d been frantic. Trent must be feeling the same way.

  “I think it’s selfish and cruel of Raoul not to call my brother and let him know he’s okay.”

  “Got that right. We’re dealing with more than one selfish guy. Caleb is the wrong person to be with your mother. She’s too vulnerable.”

  Taylor tried not to think of how much her mother had changed, how their relationship had changed. “I expected her to ask me to move home while my apartment is being repaired, but she didn’t. She barely asked about the firebomb. It was almost as if …”

  “As if what?”

&n
bsp; “As if she thought I’d done it to get attention or something.”

  Shane put his hand on hers. “I’m sorry, babe.”

  “It’s just that I know I’m going to lose her, yet in a way, I’ve already lost her. We used to be close. She could be difficult at times, but we got along. I—”

  She nudged Shane. “Here comes Lisa with Jim. Oh, my God. He’s got his arm around her.”

  “See if you can get her to go to the rest room with you. Tell her what’s going on and emphasize how important it is to keep quiet.”

  “Hi!” Taylor greeted her friend, her voice a little too bright, but Lisa didn’t seem to notice.

  “You remember Jim, don’t you, Taylor?”

  “Of course.”

  “I heard something on the news about a firebomb at your place,” Jim said.

  Taylor wondered if he was telling the truth. She’d watched the evening news with her mother. She hadn’t seen anything about it. A little firebomb was nothing compared to other crimes in Miami.

  “What happened?” Lisa asked.

  “We don’t know,” Shane said. “It might have been a mistake. A drug deal gone bad or something. Luckily, Taylor was with me.”

  “Oh, my Lord! How scary,” Lisa said. “I wish you’d called me. I didn’t know a thing about it until Jim saw it on the news just after you called me this evening.”

  “It was a crazy day,” Taylor replied. “I didn’t have a moment to myself.”

  “I know what you mean,” Jim said with a smile directed to Lisa.

  “You’re working for Lisa, I hear.”

  “No, we’re working together,” Lisa said with a smile Taylor hadn’t seen since Trent had left her. “Midnight Lace’s Web site is doing gangbuster business.”

  “Really?” Taylor heard herself say.

  “The Web site is doing better than the shop. You have no idea how many women out there in Middle America have no place to go for things like aromatherapy oils and candles and—”

  “Furry handcuffs,” Jim said with a grin.

  “How about piña colada flavored condoms?” Shane added. “I’ll bet they’re not available in Sioux City.”

  Taylor wanted to laugh, but she couldn’t. This was her best friend, and she was obviously involved with this man who might very well be a criminal. He would break her heart—again—and ruin her business. Lisa might even go to jail.

  The waitress sashayed up to them and took Jim’s order for a white chocolate martini, and Lisa decided on a mojito. Taylor couldn’t help noticing the attractive blonde kept eyeing Shane.

  “I’m glad you called the shop,” Lisa told her. “Jim and I have been working way too hard. We needed a break. Sorry we were late, but the rain made the traffic worse than usual.”

  Taylor nodded. “Friday is Renata’s funeral. My mother is so, so stressed. Do you think you can come?”

  “Of course, I’ll be there.” Lisa touched Jim’s arm. “We’ll be there.”

  “Sure,” Jim replied, but he didn’t sound thrilled.

  “I need to run to the ladies’ room.” Taylor stood up. “Lisa, come with me.”

  “I don’t need—”

  Taylor shot her the old “trust me” look from their Yale days, and Lisa excused herself. The music was too loud to talk until they were inside the black marble and stainless-steel rest room.

  “Lisa, are you and Jim …”

  “We’re living together in the loft over my shop.”

  Lisa hugged Taylor with a little squeal of delight.

  “I never thought I’d be happy again, but I am. Jim’s the perfect partner. We work together, then test the love toys after dark.”

  “Lisa, the security firm investigating problems we’ve been having think Jim could be involved in tinkering with our Web site.”

  “Jim? No way!”

  Taylor recognized the hostility simmering in her friend’s dark eyes. “Just listen to me, please.”

  Lisa’s nostrils flared as she breathed hard. Taylor waited for a moment while a young woman in a crotch-high dress washed her hands and left them alone in the VIP rest room.

  “The police shut down the bar where Jim worked for laundering bingo skim money. There’s a good chance he was involved. Don’t tell me a man with Jim’s looks and talent couldn’t find a better job than tending bar.

  “He’s the prime suspect in the tampering with Maxx’s Web site. Now he’s working on yours. I’m concerned he’ll ruin your business or get you unknowingly involved in some criminal activity.”

  Lisa crossed her arms in front of her chest. “He’s been a tremendous help. His ideas, the speed at which he got us online, amazes me. There’s no funny stuff on my Web site.”

  “You might not realize it. I don’t understand exactly how it works myself, but there are passwords and concealed icons people can click on to access hidden material. If there hadn’t been some glitches with our orders, we might never have found the secret text.”

  “Jim’s a good man. He’s had a run of bad luck—thanks to your mother—but we’ve become close. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.”

  Taylor could have pointed out Lisa had been deceived before, but she didn’t. Their friendship was frayed at the edges. She didn’t want to make things worse especially since she didn’t have any proof yet. She’d learned her lesson with Renata.

  “Please, just do me one favor. Don’t tell Jim about the hidden text on our Web site.”

  It took Lisa a moment to agree. “All right. I won’t mention it.”

  “Thanks,” Taylor responded, relieved, yet knowing this man was bound to drive them further apart.

  “You need to realize your mother is a very manipulative person. I’m giving him another chance. We’re going to make a fortune at Midnight Lace. Watch and see.”

  Chapter 23

  Doyle left Brianna visiting her mother in the hospital and went to see his nephew. Trent hadn’t come into the office all day, which was very unusual. Doyle knew he’d been prowling the streets of Miami trying to find Raoul.

  The conniving little swish had been out hustling the family for money, but he hadn’t bothered to call Trent. Doyle didn’t want to break the bad news to Trent, yet what choice did he have? Sooner or later, Trent would learn the truth, and he might blame Doyle for withholding information.

  Doyle hiked up the steps to the trendy SoBe loft Trent had purchased after his divorce. He rang the bell and waited, hearing the sound of classical music coming from the stereo.

  The door swung open. “Oh, hi. I was expecting SoBe Pizza,” Trent said.

  Doyle expected to be invited inside, but his nephew stood there waiting for him to say something.

  “I dropped by to talk to you about Raoul.”

  “What about me?” Raoul poked his head around the corner.

  Doyle said a silent curse for getting himself involved in this mess. He didn’t understand the gay life, and he never would. Still, Trent was family.

  When his brother had died, Doyle had been at the hospital, holding his hand. “You’re the stand-up guy now. Take care of the family.”

  What a family. Dysfunctional from the word “go.” Taylor was the nearest to normal, and even she had fallen for a worthless wanna-be photographer more interested in the family’s money than his own career. As far as he was concerned Paul Ashton’s disappearance was a blessing in disguise.

  “Glad to see you, Raoul,” Doyle said. “I came by to ask if Trent had heard from you. I know how worried he’s been.”

  Raoul turned on the smile that had charmed countless women and just as many men.

  “That rehab was not working. Lectures all day long. Then meditation. That’s not what I need.”

  Doyle begged to differ but knew it would do no good. Brianna had clued him in on the tricks crystal meth plays on the mind.

  “I’m having a Sober Living By the Sea companion come here to help Raoul,” Trent said.

  Doyle didn’t bother to ask what this was costing.
He had money problems of his own. This was Trent’s life and money, not his.

  “Renata’s funeral is on Friday. Your mother has invited everyone she knows. I think you two should be there.”

  “Of course,” Trent said. “Who’s handling the arrangements?”

  “Taylor.”

  “Good old Taylor,” Raoul said with a smirk.

  Doyle struggled to control himself. He’d lost it far too often lately.

  “I think you should visit your mother. Make your peace with her. Don’t go to the funeral and she’ll wonder if you’re the killer.”

  “Has Her Majesty rewritten the will?” Raoul asked.

  “I don’t know,” Doyle replied, although he knew she had not.

  “She’s balking, torturing the family. Right?”

  Doyle hated to admit this was dead-on, but it was. Vintage Vanessa Maxwell. Manipulate everyone. Keep them guessing.

  “We could drop by your mother’s in the morning before work,” Doyle said, “and see if there’s anything we can do for the funeral.”

  Trent’s eyes shifted to the side, and Doyle knew he was less excited than Doyle had been when Brianna suggested the visit.

  “Great idea,” Raoul said with a megawatt smile. “Patch it up with your mother.”

  Taylor looked up from her desk and saw Brianna sail into her office. “Okay, I’m here to help. Where’s the list?”

  “What list?”

  “Doyle said your mother gave you a list of people to call about the funeral tomorrow.”

  “Right,” Taylor said. She’d been putting off calling everyone, uncertain of what to say. “I appreciate the help.”

  Brianna smiled, and for a moment Taylor’s world lit up.

  “You said we were friends. I want to help you any way I can.”

  Those heartfelt words spoken in a New Orleans hotel seemed to belong to another person in another lifetime. But Taylor had meant everything she’d said. Brianna was special. Even if she left Doyle, Taylor would think of her as family.

  Taylor handed Brianna the printout from her mother’s address book. “I don’t know how many of these socialites are in town, or how many can make it on such short notice, but let’s try. You take half the list. I’ll take the other.”