by Amy Brent
Silent but following close.
I continued to sling drinks all night, flirting with the older women while they continued to sip their expensive, fruity cocktails. Number after number was slid my way, but all I did was toss them in the trash can. I had absolutely no desire to call any of these women. The only thing I wanted to do was get off my shift, take my tip money, and go get the shit I needed to prepare for my dinner with Olivia tomorrow.
When a lull in the crowd finally happened, I pulled my phone from my pocket. I sat along the edge of the bar and pulled up a text message to Olivia, asking her if we were still on for tomorrow night. If shit got caught up with the paperwork, I needed to know so I didn’t spend all that fucking money on food.
If shit got caught up with the paperwork, I wanted a chance to convince her to come anyway.
Still on for tomorrow night?
I sent the message just as someone came up to order a drink, so I set my phone behind the counter and got to work. Before I knew it, another hour had passed, and Chad was tapping me on the shoulder.
“Go home,” he said. “It’s eleven-thirty, and you need to prepare for whatever dinner or shit you’ve got going on. You’ve got tomorrow off, but I’ll need you through the weekend.”
“You got it,” I said. “Thanks, dude.”
“I want details!”
“You always do!”
I grabbed my phone and clocked out before I checked my text messages. I saw a pending message from Olivia, and at first, I froze. For whatever reason, my mind began to whirl with all the things this message could possibly entail. Maybe she was turning me down, or maybe she was simply no longer interested. Maybe she was playing me, fucking around with me just to get me to lower the price of the property. Maybe I would open this message, and it would tell me the deal was off, or the deal was too much, or she’d reported me to whatever the fuck she could in order to rip me off even more than she already was.
With a trembling hand, I swiped across my screen and furrowed my brow at the two words Olivia had sent back nearly an hour ago.
I guess.
She guessed? What was she guessing about? That didn’t really sound like a woman who was amped and ready for a man to cook her dinner. “I guess” wasn’t what you told someone if you were excited to see them.
I tossed my phone in the car before I flopped down into my seat. I felt anger beginning to course through my system. There were plenty of women in Malibu, like the one I’d just turned down, who would be more than ecstatic to spend an evening with me. Women who wouldn’t even require dinner to spread their legs for me. There were so many fucking women tonight I could’ve picked up and staked on my fat-ass cock that Olivia soon would’ve been the smallest blip on my radar in my crusade to show the women of this world what happened when you screwed men over.
When you screwed me over.
I cranked my car and decided to head home. I wasn’t sure what to think of the message, nor did I understand why it made me so angry. I wanted to sleep on it. To give myself time to think and piece it all together. If she didn’t wanna come to dinner, that was her fucking loss.
What I didn’t understand was why the idea of her not being excited to see me angered me so badly.
“I’m not fucking in love!” I roared.
But then again, maybe I was.
Chapter 14
Olivia
I had it. All of it. I ran my software, tracked down all of Wesley’s aliases he’d used thus far, and printed off all the pictures. It was Wesley all right. Same face, same jaw structure, and same mischievous glint in his eye. I printed off sixteen different pictures of him with older women wrapped around his body, and it made me sick. Brown eyes with blond hair, green eyes with red hair. Black hair with blue eyes, and some with streaks and blond tips. Gray eyes with silver hair, and wild-colored hair for the midlife crisis women who had just gone through hefty divorces.
And in every single picture, he was there smiling.
It absolutely boiled my blood. What the hell did he think he was doing? He was wrapping these women around his stingy little fingers, playing with their hearts, and then robbing them blind. I cross-referenced the pictures of the women to find their names and see if any of them had filed police reports for stolen things. I was going to burn him. Make him pay for what he was doing to these women.
But with every single woman I identified, none of them seemed to file a police report about anything. I couldn’t check private detective files because they didn’t operate on the same open network, but as far as regular police action was concerned, there was none. Destiny would be the first to file a report on him, it looked like.
I printed off all the pictures before pulling out a manila envelope. I scribbled Wesley “Fox” Wilton across the front of it, and then I placed the pictures I’d printed out inside. I pulled the phone records of all his aliases and burner phones and put them all on a thumb drive and then stuck that thing in there as well. By the time I was done gathering all this evidence, I’d hand over enough to the police for them to lock him away for years.
But then, a final picture flashed up on the screen. A picture of the two of us from high school. The software was still running in the background so I shut it down, but not before I got a good glimpse of the person he used to be. That beautiful blond, shaggy hair and those golden gray eyes. His smile was so soft in high school. A boy who was all arms, legs, dreams, and passions.
I sat back in my chair and sighed. What had happened to Wesley? There were always rumors of the bad home life he had, but he always came to school with a smile on his face. The girls gravitated toward him, sure. He was a horny bastard, too, but what teenage boy wasn’t? I thought back to all the wonderful memories. Memories of my first kiss underneath the goal on the football field. Memories of my first homecoming dance and how we first met. I’d been stood up by my date and was crying in a corner. Wesley had come over and asked me if I wanted to dance, and he held me close the entire night.
I closed my eyes, smiling at the memory before another thought hit me.
It didn’t matter who he was then. The truth of the matter was, he was robbing women blind.
I shoved the manila envelope into my desk and locked it before I grabbed the real estate paperwork. Clipping them with a paper clip, I strode from my office and down the road to my lawyer’s office. Nelson Wainwright was the local lawyer I used when I needed help with a few things, and I figured I could have this conversation in person. I walked into his office, blowing right past his wife-slash-secretary, and then knocked on his door before I called out.
“Nelson. It’s me. We gotta talk.”
His door flew open and there he stood. His thick, black-rimmed glasses slid down his nose as his dark brown eyes pierced directly into my skull. His lips were downturned, frowning heavily at the intrusion. But the look of panic must’ve been evident in my eyes because he quickly stepped aside and let me in.
“Sweetheart, cancel my plans for the next couple hours,” he said.
“Will do, honey,” his wife said.
The door shut with a thud behind me and I jumped. Nelson stared me down all the way to his desk before he ushered me to take a seat. I slid the papers to him, and he studied them closely, cocking an eyebrow when he saw they’d already been signed.
“Buying some property, I see?” he asked.
“I’m actually working undercover on a case,” I said.
“I take it the punchline is you need them filed but not really filed,” he said.
“Yes.”
“All right. Back up. What’s going on?”
“You know my friend Destiny?” I asked.
“Everyone knows Destiny,” he said. “Go on.”
“Well, she was robbed about a week ago. By a guy she’d been sleeping with for a few weeks. Apparently, things were going well, so she asked him to stay the night, but when she woke up, all four of her credit cards were taken, as well as all the cash in her wallet.”
> “Any jewelry stolen?”
“Nope. Just a quick grab and go. I’ve figured out that she’s not the only person he’s been doing this to, however. I’ve got sixteen different pictures of him in different outfits with different colored hair and eyes. Different names, too. It’s pretty extensive.”
“And you’ve posed as a what, this time?” he asked.
“Real estate developer and investor,” I said. “The name he lives under legally is Wesley Fox, and he works at a cabana bar on the beach. He was selling a piece of split property right there on the ocean, so I posed as someone interested in buying it.”
“If you’ve got the information to nail him, why don’t you just do it?” Nelson asked.
“Because I need a bit more time to put everything together. If I’m going to get him off the street and into the hands of the police, I need everything in order. Some things are taking a bit more time.”
“Like?”
“Nelson, do I poke and prod at this type of detail with your work?” I asked.
“All the time,” he said, grinning. “Spill.”
“I’ve got his pictures, the names and pictures of the women he’s done this to before, phone records for all his aliases on a flash drive, but none of the women, other than Destiny sought out help. There are no local police reports, and it’ll take me a couple of days to contact some other P.I.’s in the area and ask them if they had anyone approach them about it. But since he’s still on the street, I’m assuming—”
“No other PIs have been looking for him, got it,” Nelson said. “So, you need that one last thing to tie him to everything. Thinking it might be in his personal possession?”
“I was honestly hoping not to go there.”
“Why?”
“Because I know the man I’m targeting,” I said.
“How so?” Nelson asked.
“We dated in high school.”
Nelson sat silently in his chair as his hard glare bored into my forehead. His black suit draped over his towering form, and he shifted in his chair before he placed the papers on his desk.
“Are you using your personal connection to get closer to him?” he asked.
“In a way. I’ve positioned myself and dropped a few lines here and there that I’m a wealthy individual. If I can catch him in the act or rummage around in his home for a few things I could use, then I’m done. Filing but not filing this paperwork will buy me time to do just that.”
“And you’re certain that’s all this is?” he asked.
“What the hell else would it be, Nelson?”
“Olivia, you don’t get out much. Now, you’ve been pulled into a world that isn’t simply about tracking down a con man, but it’s a con man you once enjoyed being around. That can take an emotional toll. I’ve got no issues taking care of the paperwork. I’ll do it right here and hand them back to you. We’ll make it look legitimate, and I can even file some fake paperwork in my system just in case he wants to poke around or something. But I want to make sure you’re all right.”
“I’m fine, Nelson. Really. And thank you for helping.”
“Anything to get a man like this off the streets,” he said.
I watched him witness and notarize the paperwork before he took it to his computer. I sat back and sighed with relief, crossing one leg over the other before I closed my eyes. The past week had been a whirlwind, to say the least, but the moment I closed my eyes, the memories of yesterday came flooding back. The way his lips felt on my neck. The bruises his fingertips left behind on my hips. The sweat that dripped between my breasts and the dried fluids I washed off my body when I got home.
I shivered in the chair before my phone vibrated on my hip.
“Feel free to take that,” Nelson said. “I’ll be a few more minutes.”
“Thanks.”
I picked up my phone and slipped out of his office. I nodded to his wife who gave me a polite wave before I went and stood in a corner. I wanted a bit of privacy the moment I saw Destiny’s name pop up because I knew I would have to answer some case-sensitive questions.
And possibly cover my ass.
“You must’ve felt your ears burning,” I said, grinning.
“I did, I did. Everything all right? How’s the super-secret sting operation going?”
“I’m getting the real estate papers signed and notarized by my lawyer now, and he’s been briefed on everything. He’ll make it look legit, and that’ll buy me until at least Friday to gather absolutely everything. I’m about halfway there.”
“What all did you find?” Destiny asked.
“I’ve got sixteen or so different pictures of him,” I said. “All different types of outfits, personas, hair colors, even eye colors. I’ve also got the names of the women he had on his hip during those times as well. I tracked down some of the aliases he used and pulled records that are blatantly indicative of burner phones—”
“How do you know that?” Destiny asked.
“Because the phone records underneath his aliases only have incoming and outgoing calls and text messages from one number. Sometimes two. And he’s got multiple records of those. They’re all burner phones, trust me. Including the number he gave you.”
“Oh, my gosh,” she said. “This is incredible. We’re gonna get this son of a bitch. We’re gonna nail his ass to the wall!”
Her excitement at the situation was a bit off-putting to me, which shocked me even more. I furrowed my brow while Destiny went on and on about how he had it coming, and I couldn’t have agreed more. I knew I had good reason to drag this out, what with the evidence and everything, but I couldn’t deny that part of me was going to enjoy dragging this out just because of what he was doing.
And obviously, how long he’d been doing it.
But when Destiny started saying things like “rotting in prison” and “never seeing the light of day” and “dirty rotten bastard,” I tensed. My shoulders rolled back, I drew in a deep breath, and then a thought ran through my mind.
What the hell’s wrong with her? Doesn’t she know she’s playing with a man’s life?
I had no idea why I felt the need to defend him. I knew what he was doing was illegal, wrong, and manipulative. Usually, I took great pride in putting people like him in the hands of the police. In my mind, I was taking the cases they didn’t have time for and handed them all the credit in a manila envelope, along with the person who did it.
“Olivia?”
I whipped my head around and saw Nelson standing there with the papers outstretched.
“They’re notarized and in the system,” he said. “Just understand that when he files them on his end, they’ll kick back because they’re fake. If you give them to him Friday, you’ll have the weekend. But if you give them to him before that, you’ll have about twenty-four hours before he’s got proof that you aren’t what you say you are.”
“Thanks, Nelson,” I said.
“Who’s that?” Destiny asked.
“My lawyer, Nelson Wainwright. I’ve got the papers we’re gonna use to get what I need before we bring this to a close.”
“Give that man a fucking blowjob for me,” Destiny said.
“He’s married, but I’ll pass on the sentiment.”
“No, thanks,” Nelson said, wrinkling his nose. “Whatever it is, we’re good.”
“He says ‘thank you for the imaginary blowjob since I’m married,’ and I’ll call you once I can get everything else gathered, all right? Just hang tight, Destiny. It’s almost done. Any luck with your credit card companies?”
“Once we can get them this information and get the police to file an actual report, I’m golden,” she said.
“Beautiful. I’ll talk with you in a few days.”
“I’m definitely looking forward to it,” she said.
I hung up my phone before Nelson’s wife-slash-secretary started giggling. I threw my head back in laughter as Nelson made his way back into his office, and the slamming of his office door cause
d me to jump.
“Don’t mind him,” his wife said. “It’s been a rough week. That was a good little giggle, thank you for that.”
“What can we say?” I asked. “You’ve got a sexy husband, apparently.”
“Don’t I know it,” his wife said, winking. “Have a nice day, Olivia. Good luck catching whoever you’re chasing.”
“Yeah, thanks,” I said.
But when I left the office, I didn’t feel like I was any step closer to relief. I didn’t feel any closer to a normal life, or a normal world, or even to a better world.
All I felt was confused, worried, and anxious.
Suddenly, I felt my hip vibrate. I saw Wesley’s name scrolling across the screen, and then I swiped my phone open to see what he’d sent. It was a text message from him, asking me if we were still on for tomorrow night. I closed my eyes outside of the office building, allowing the dinnertime rush hour of people whizzing home to overwhelm me as I tried to clear my mind. If I went to Wesley’s house and poked around in his stuff, I could leave the papers and have him nailed by Friday morning at the latest. If I put him off, it would get me more time, but it might be at the expense of Wesley thinking I was rejecting him.
