“I’ve got ears. And as a fellow business owner, I can appreciate your efficiency.” Her voice was calm, and she waved a hand almost regally. “Make your calls. I can wait.”
I hit the call button. James Senior picked up immediately. “I knew you’d be calling me, you bastard. And don’t even try to pin this on my guys, because, contract or not, we’ll blow the whistle on your company’s unsafe practices.”
I was so stunned I could barely mutter out a, “What?”
I hadn’t talked to James in a while, but from what I remembered, he was an older, grandfatherly guy with two adult sons in the business and a few grandkids he was training to follow in their footsteps. Right now, his Jersey-accented voice was irate, and I was baffled as hell.
“I told you that if you kept using the cut-rate shit, there would be problems eventually.”
I shook my head rapidly, as if trying to remove water from my ears. “What cut-rate shit? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit, Ainsley. Devlin told me two years ago that you were cutting costs, and if I didn’t go along with the cheaper materials, you said you’d find a contractor who would. I have been with you since almost the beginning, right? You used to be concerned with quality. You used to have loyalty. Well, fuck you. You can find a new electrician. James and Sons no longer wants your business.”
James hung up, and I was left staring at the phone in my hand.
It had been right in front of me the whole time, and I wanted to punch something for not realizing it sooner. Devlin hadn’t needed to use any of Joel’s money at all. He’d been doing his own skimming. How many of my buildings had substandard materials? Where else had he cut corners? How could I be sure another fire wouldn’t break out, killing someone next time, while I scrambled around like an inept idiot, trying to figure out how much damage had been done?
Faced by the enormity of what I just discovered, I was frozen to my core. Because of Devlin’s greed, lives had already been put in jeopardy, and more could be in danger. Unsafe buildings that inspectors had probably been bribed to pass were scattered around the greater Chicago area with my name on them. Ainsley.
The contracting side was not safe from scandal as I’d thought. Instead, the fallout could be far worse than what Joel Cunningham had wreaked. It could be the end of my company. The end of lives.
Another realization hit me. Chester would be devastated by this new development. I’d just dragged it out of him a couple of months before that his doctor had been after him about some medical testing. He had heart issues. He had been pressing me about taking some time off after the trial, driving out to his cabin in Michigan. Hinting that we might not have much time left. This stress could kill him.
I was literally blinded by the need to destroy something, to exact payment for this latest betrayal, and it took me a long moment to calm down enough to finally turn around and address the Cunningham sitting in the room. Granted, she probably had no involvement in any of this, but by god, she was the only one here, and she was going to help me fix it.
“I need to go back to Chicago,” I told Olivia flatly.
“I gathered that much from your phone calls.”
She still looked angry, but there was a glint of concern in her eyes too.
I ignored it. “You’re going with me.”
CHAPTER TEN
Liv
Gabe made the pronouncement in the same flat tone he would have used while saying, “It’s getting ready to rain,” or “Your shoe is untied.”
“The hell I am.”
I stood up. He was walking toward me with purposeful steps, his face completely masked of all emotion, and his eyes were as hard as dirty ice. If it was possible, his voice was even colder. Any hint of the sexy, cocky guy I’d just seen a half-hour before was gone, and I felt a current of unease run through me. I definitely figured that being seated put me at a disadvantage.
“You’re going with me, or I will very quickly make your life very difficult.”
“You’re threatening me? You sneak into my life for some—”
“You’re a Cunningham.”
“I’m a Redmond,” I stressed, backing up a step. “I dropped the Cunningham name when I was seventeen years old, and I haven’t seen my stepfather or my stepbrother since the week before that.”
The tables had turned. I’d stomped up here fired up with righteous indignation, and now I felt like I was the one who had been cornered. He advanced another step, and I felt my back hit the wall, literally. Figuratively, I wasn’t ready to concede yet.
“I need to find Devlin. You lived with the Cunninghams for years as a family. You must know something. Tucked away family vacation spots, properties not necessarily listed for the IRS? You were high-school age when they were pulling their shady shit. You would have been old enough to hear things. See things.”
Little did he know the price I’d almost paid for just that.
Stubbornly, I lifted my chin and flat-out lied, keeping eye contact and preventing my knees from knocking through sheer force of will. While I was pretty sure he wouldn’t physically hurt me, right then, I didn’t want to test the theory. “The only thing I was worried about in high school was passing geometry. I can’t tell you anything about what those assholes were doing practically a decade ago.”
“Fine.” He stepped away, and I nearly wilted in relief. I couldn’t tell him that I was the anonymous source, even though it would probably mean him kissing my feet in gratitude. After all, I had pushed the snowball that started the Cunninghams’ downfall. I had steadily built a case over the course of several years, only releasing the information to the IRS and the FBI when I was absolutely sure that everything was airtight, and that Joel and Devlin couldn’t wriggle out of any charges and hunt me down.
For them, finding me wouldn’t be difficult. They knew where I was born. They knew my mom’s maiden name. I’d just figured that hiding in plain sight was the smartest option. Maybe if I very obviously and very completely cut myself off from everything related to them, they’d leave me alone. As far as I knew, it had worked.
Now, Gabe wanted me to drop everything, including my hard-earned peace of mind, and come with him to Chicago. To voluntarily put myself in reach of the only fear I’d never managed to conquer: Devlin Cunningham.
I couldn’t do it, and I couldn’t tell Gabe why or he’d find a way to make me do it.
He picked up the phone on the nightstand and hit a number.
“What are you doing?” I instinctively knew he wouldn’t give up easily, and his emotionless face was making me nervous.
He didn’t answer me, but when the person picked up on the other end of the hotel line, he barked, “This is Gabriel Ainsley. I’d like to speak to the hotel manager. No, not the manager on duty. I need the hotelier. I’ll take his cell phone number if he’s not in today.” He picked the key card I’d used to get into his room up from the dresser I’d placed it on, giving me a hard look. “It’s imperative that I speak with him immediately about a matter of serious concern with a member of his staff.”
Latrisha. He was going to get her fired.
“Gabe, no.”
I tried to reach the phone, but he held me back effortlessly with one arm. Latrisha’s husband was in jail. Her parents had thrown her out of their house when she got pregnant at fifteen. She was the only support for her three kids. She couldn’t lose her job because of me.
“Stop it, Gabe!” I was near tears.
His face was a hard mask. “Come to Chicago with me.”
“I can’t!”
The words came out so choked I placed a hand on my throat. I couldn’t cry in front of him. All these years, I’d been building up this wall between my emotions and the rest of the world. I was a badass. I was a woman not to be fucked with. I wasn’t a scared, pampered little girl who folded to threats and attacks. I took on drunk bikers with a fucking baseball bat. But right now, he was peeling back those defenses, layer by layer, and I hated
him for it.
I could see it in his face. He wasn’t going to give up.
“I’ll do it. I’ll go.”
Gabe raised an eyebrow.
“I promise. You miserable bastard, I promise.”
The fear was rising again, and I had the urge to run. It didn’t matter where. I needed to get out of this room and away from this man. Away from the specter of Devlin, a threat that had suddenly come back in living color.
He started to lower the phone, and I grabbed it out of his hand, hurling it as hard as I could at the wall. It hit with a crash, and the back flew off, the battery bouncing off the carpet, the plastic handset cracking in two. There was a dent in the wall. A couple inches to the right and I’d have taken out the flat screen TV.
I grabbed my helmet and jacket and left, afraid that he’d follow me. If, or more likely when, I had a panic attack, I wanted to be as far away from Gabe as possible. I’d felt so safe with his arms around me the night before, and now I felt like I’d been trapped like an animal.
I hit the button for the elevator, stepped inside long enough to press the button for the lobby, then headed down the stairs at a run. I stopped somewhere around the third floor, tucked myself into a corner of the stairwell, and sobbed. Quietly, though, so the sound wouldn’t echo. The last thing I wanted was to attract attention and have someone come out and find me.
Especially Gabe.
He could never know that he’d made me cry for the first time in over five years. That was a victory I was not willing to hand over to him.
***
Spent from the emotional outburst, I waited long enough that I figured he’d gone back to his room or even left, and then headed down the rest of the way to the lobby. Thankfully, Latrisha was on break or something — it was a different person at the front desk. I kept my head down and headed out to where I parked the Ducati. I kept the visor on my helmet up so that the wind in my face would dry the rest of the tears. I couldn’t do anything about my likely bloodshot eyes or hot cheeks.
Five minutes into my ride, I felt that familiar tickle at the back of my neck that I’d been getting for days now. The feeling that someone was following me. When I checked my side mirror, I was completely unsurprised to see a black Mercedes. Mr. Ainsley, I presumed, making sure I was upholding my end of the bargain.
I made a quick stop by the bar to complete a few last-minute details and spotted Freddie’s car still in the parking lot. Had we only been washing dishes less than an hour ago?
Blowing out a breath, I gave Freddie the lite version of what was going on.
“You cannot be serious about this.”
“I’m so sorry to leave you like this, but I have to do it. I have to close that chapter of my life.” I gave Freddie a hug, and he squeezed me back. “Take care of sweet baby Mateo for me until I get back, okay? I want a minimum of seven pictures texted per day. Tell Rosalie I’ll call her.”
Shit. I owed her an apology too.
Feeling like a total failure, I gave him other last-minute instructions to make sure to feed Checkers and hire more staff if we needed it. The last thing I wanted to worry about were overwhelmed friends and employees struggling in my absence.
When I left The Red Stripe, the black Mercedes pulled out with me and followed me back to my house.
I dragged my Ducati up on the tiny deck off the back of the house, not wanting to leave it in the garage while I was gone. I had a sliding door I could bring it in through and would just wheel it into the living room.
Crime wasn’t as bad in this area as it was in some of the other nearby neighborhoods, but I’d learned the hard way with a mountain bike early on that if no one could see the thing you didn’t want them to take, that it might actually be there when you got back. Leave it in a garage unattended for more than a night? It might as well have a “free” sign taped to it.
I packed a small backpack of clothes and necessities, made sure to retrieve some cash from the safe I hid in my kitchen, and grabbed my laptop bag. I hadn’t used the laptop since I’d sent the anonymous email bringing down the Cunninghams, and the bag, some files I’d grabbed from Joel’s office, and the clothes on my back, were the only things I’d left town with all those years before.
I’d transferred all my money out of the bank, unsure if Joel, as a guardian, would be able to access my accounts, and for the next couple of years, worked only in cash. Dangerous back then since my stash included the modest inheritance I received when my mom died, but I’d been lucky and hadn’t been robbed.
Walking out to the Mercedes, I waved at Gary sitting out on his front porch and asked him to keep an eye on things around the house for me. Gabe got out, walked around the car, and opened the car door for me, and I sank into the plush, air-conditioned interior without even looking at him.
I was more exhausted now than afraid, and thankfully, that didn’t leave room for other emotions like anger and fear. My crying jag had left me feeling sapped. I was operating on very little sleep. I’d had a wildly emotional day.
Gabe climbed into the driver’s seat, and in the close confines of the car, I could smell his pine and spice scent that had become so familiar to me already.
He was silent, and I couldn’t think of anything to say. The silence in the car, rather than being awkward or antagonistic, was somehow soothing. He switched the radio on to a rock station but kept the volume low.
Soon, I was hurtling toward Chicago.
I closed my eyes and fell into an exhausted sleep so I didn’t have to witness my approach to hell.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Gabe
“I’m not staying with you.”
“And I’m not arguing with you.”
Although that was exactly what I was doing.
I took a deep breath. “Look, we’re not going to stand here all day.” I tried to grab Liv’s arm, but she stepped back. We were in a standoff on Clark Street, and people were starting to stare. “Just come up, and we’ll talk about this.”
Liv stubbornly stood her ground, her dark eyes flashing, and crossed her arms over her breasts. “Just because you manipulated me into coming here does not mean that I’m going to play everything by your rules. Take me to a hotel.”
I tried not to let her see my frustration. I’d decided on the way back from Detroit, as Liv slept next to me, that my penthouse was where I wanted her while she was in Chicago. Not only could I keep an eye on her there, but hell, if we were “working” together, there was no reason we couldn’t enjoy each other at the same time.
Her scent — lightly spiced like cinnamon — had teased my senses for the four hours I’d been trapped in a car with her. Right now I was feeling edgy and seconds away from dragging her up to my place and satisfying the state of arousal I’d been in almost since the moment I’d first seen her.
But she was refusing to cooperate.
“Fine.” I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Beckett, one of my North Loop guys. “Hey. I need a favor. Can you get me a room at the St. Clair on Walton?”
“I don’t know why I wouldn’t be able to,” Beckett answered. “I kind of own the place. Why do you need it, considering it’s right around the corner from where you stay?”
“I need a place to put Olivia Cunningham. Just have them bill it to me. We’ll head over there now.”
“Sure, man. Hey, I’m sorry about the fire. Hunter texted all of us this morning. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
“You’re doing it. Thanks.”
“Come on,” I growled at Olivia, heading back toward my car. She just gave me a simmering glare and tossed that braid of hers. If she kept doing that, I was going to wrap it around my hand and—
“You’re not paying for my hotel. And my last name is not Cunningham.”
I whirled on her, and her eyes widened in surprise. Grabbing her waist, I yanked her up against me so she could feel my heavy cock pressed against her.
“Olivia. Shut up.”
Olivia’s eyes
shot black fire, and it looked like she wanted to say a helluva lot more to me, but she bit her lip and threw her backpack into the back seat of the Mercedes. We drove the few blocks to the St. Clair in tense silence.
The hotel was unassuming from the front, a tall, plain brick edifice with a discreet black and gold sign. I was very familiar with the inside, though. My company had gutted and restored the hotel to its original Art Deco design, and the place was now a showpiece among the luxury hotels in Chicago. The lobby was done in a checkerboard pattern of black and white marble tile, and clusters of comfortably cushioned rosewood-backed club chairs were scattered in groupings centered with ornate rugs. We approached the reservation desk, which had sleek, curved lines, brass accents, and was flanked on each side by torchiere lamps featuring glowing globes held up by nearly naked women. Beckett had picked those out himself.
A soft-voiced receptionist dressed in severe black with her dark red hair pulled back in a sleek twist, sat at the desk. “Mr. Ainsley, welcome.” She nodded and smiled to Olivia, who looked back with no expression. “We’ve reserved one of our terraced suites for you and your companion. Would you like me to ring someone to carry your bags?”
Olivia hitched her beat-up backpack higher on her shoulder. “Not necessary,” she replied coolly. “And I’m not his companion. Mr. Ainsley won’t be staying.”
I took the key from the receptionist and thanked her before she could apologize unnecessarily. “Lose the chip on your shoulder,” I muttered to Olivia as we walked toward the elevators.
“Why? Afraid they’ll stop you from bringing your ‘companions’ here in the future if I’m too rude?”
“No. If I bring a woman somewhere for the night, it’s to my apartment or hers. This hotel belongs to a friend, and he’s doing me a favor, so quit acting like you don’t remember how to behave in classy surroundings.”
Claiming My Vengeance Page 7
