The Rebel

by Adrienne Giordano

  She gave him the eye-rolling, idiot-on-board look. “Have you forgotten I can’t go home? Where am I supposed to sleep?”

  Lucky for her, the idiot-on-board had a plan. “You’ll come to my mother’s. She’s got a guest room with a sitting area. You won’t even have to leave the room if you don’t want. But I’d feel better knowing you were there and not alone in some hotel.”

  “I’m fine being alone.”

  “I know you are, but until we get you back in your place, you’ll work out of my condo and stay at my mother’s.” The elevator doors slid open. “Ladies first.”

  She stepped off and came to a stop facing him. “It sounds like you’re ordering me around.”

  Of course he was. He also didn’t care. He wanted her under his mother’s roof. Period. In case anything else went wrong. And the way things were going, Amanda was on a hot streak.

  He reached under her chin and drummed his fingers. “I don’t like to think of it as ordering you around. I like to think of it as taking care of a smart, independent woman.”

  She laughed. “Oh, you’re good.”

  He leaned in and got right next to her ear, more than willing to show her how good he could be. No problem there. But, for now, he’d behave. “Humor me. My mother will feed you well and you’ll get a good night’s sleep. If my condo had furniture, I’d have you stay there.” He waggled his eyebrows. “With me. Since that’s not an option, my mom’s is the next best thing.”

  Eyes welling up again, she blinked a couple times. Now he’d made her cry. What the hell did he say that had brought that on? Rough day all around. He pulled her close, wrapped his arms around her and ran his hand over the back of her head. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “You didn’t. It’s... Thank you. I could call my dad, but they don’t have an extra room. Neither does Lexi. She’s got a one-bedroom cottage and the last thing I need is her detective boyfriend asking questions. I’d have to try and explain all this and I don’t have the energy for it. How do I explain something I don’t even understand? And you’re right here, giving me a place to work and sleep, and I can’t believe it. After all this time of being alone, you came into my life at the exact time I needed someone.”

  So, okay. Major points, Davie boy. But this wasn’t about the points—at least not totally. This was doing the right thing for a friend—hopefully more—who needed help.

  He kissed the top of her head, letting his lips linger for a second against the softness of her hair. “Just do me a favor and remember this conversation when you’re mad at me.”

  * * *

  AMANDA MARCHED INTO her bank, head held high, mind centered on not losing that last bit of control she’d locked down. Currently homeless and without a studio, and now, on top of it all, no way to access her money. Someone had some explaining to do.

  A few customers waited in line for tellers, but she and David veered left to the five desks occupied by the personal bankers. One of whom would be lucky enough to have a mega-irritated, borderline about-to-turn-psychotic customer plop down in front of him.

  The bank’s ancient marble columns and floors reminded her of all the reasons she’d fallen in love with her building. The one she’d been thrown out of and—oh, her blood pumped just thinking about it. Forget that. One issue at a time.

  “Good morning,” one of the bankers called from her desk, where two open chairs sat ready for the next customer.

  “I’ll wait here,” David said.

  At this point, her life was an open book to this man, but she appreciated his willingness to offer privacy. She gripped his arm. “Thank you. For all your help.”

  “Give a holler if you need me.” He tugged on her hair. “Send up a flare or something.”

  She spun back to the banker, a woman in her thirties with glossy red hair and creamy skin. A few freckles dotted her nose, and artist Amanda imagined that if the woman spent any time in the sun, those freckles would multiply. The nameplate on the desk revealed the woman to be Elizabeth Nelson. Personal Banker.

  Perfect.

  Amanda set her purse on the floor and took one of the vacant seats across from Ms. Nelson. “Good morning. I’m Amanda LeBlanc. I have several accounts here and there seems to be an issue with them.”

  “I’m sorry about that. What’s the problem?”

  “My debit card isn’t working.”

  “Well, let’s see if we can clear that up.”

  After proving her identity, Amanda sat quietly while Ms. Nelson tippity-tapped on her keyboard.

  Frowning, she leaned forward a few inches and studied her screen. No frowning. Nuh-uh. Frowning was decidedly not good. From Amanda’s vantage point, all she saw were grid lines and one highlighted field.

  “I see the problem,” Ms. Nelson said, “but I’ll need to check with my manager on something. Excuse me one moment.”

  Without waiting for Amanda to reply, the banker popped out of her chair and hurried to an office in the far corner of the building. Amanda shifted sideways and made eye contact with David, who abandoned his post against one of the columns and wandered over. “What’s up?”

  “I don’t know. She said she saw the problem and then ran off to talk to her boss.”

  “Ms. LeBlanc?”

  The two of them glanced up.

  “Hello,” Ms. Nelson said to David.

  “Hi.” He reached to shake her hand. “David Hennings. I’m a friend of Amanda’s.”

  Ms. Nelson remained standing behind her chair. As in making no attempt to sit. Another not-so-good sign along with the nothingness pasted on her face. Not a smile, not a grimace, nothing to indicate...well...anything.

  “Ms. LeBlanc, if you would follow me. The branch manager would like to speak with you.”

  “Is everything all right?”

  She held her hand toward the office. “Right this way.”

  Okay. None of this felt right and Amanda’s pulse kicked up. Pressure exploded behind her right eye and she squeezed her eyes closed for a second. Just one second to center herself. Just get through it. Whatever this was, she’d get through it. But, damn, she despised emotional warfare.

  She rose from her chair and once again made eye contact with David, who cocked his head in question. She’d love to give him an explanation, but she was just as confused. With her current state of unease, it might not be a bad idea to have a second set of eyes and ears with her. A lawyer to boot.

  She paddled her hand. “Come with me. Please.”

  As he fell in step beside her, his long legs and big shoulders moved with such confidence that her panic, that streaming anxiety from seconds ago, vanished. David would help her. Whatever this was, he’d help her.

  “We’ve got this,” he said.

  A girl had to love a lawyer. At least when he was on her side.

  Once inside the branch manager’s office, Ms. Nelson closed the door and left. Oh, boy.

  “Ms. LeBlanc. I’m Mariette Clarke.”

  Unlike Ms. Nelson, Mariette Clarke was an older woman, maybe mid-fifties. She wore her navy suit jacket buttoned and her hair in a tight bun that created an instant face-lift. Simply put, she looked like a prison warden.

  The two women shook hands and Amanda introduced David as Ms. Clarke motioned them to chairs. “Have a seat.”

  Far from in the mood for small talk, Amanda got right to it. “Thank you. Forgive me for cutting to the chase here, but what’s the problem with my accounts? I have both my business and personal accounts with this bank and I can’t access either.”

  “Yes. I apologize for that. Unfortunately, I’m not able to release any funds to you.”

  Amanda took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. She would not, not, not lose control. But that about-to-turn-psycho person inside her might be on the brink. “Why?”
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  “Your accounts have been frozen. We received an order this morning.”

  An order... What? Amanda shook her head, letting the words sink in.

  David reached over and squeezed her hand before she could say anything. “And the order came from?”

  “Cook County.”

  He stood. That fast. Just up and out of his chair.

  “Thank you,” he said. “Let’s go, Amanda.”

  “What? Wait.”

  “The bank received a restraining order,” he said. “Apparently from the Cook County State’s Attorney’s Office. They are legally bound by it. They cannot release any funds to you.”

  Ms. Clarke nodded and Amanda gritted her teeth, barely hanging on to that last bit of control. The last couple of days had been a maze with brick walls in every direction.

  Clearly in a rush, David held the office door open and waved her through.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, moving quickly to keep pace with him. “But I’m not sure I understand. Someone from the State’s Attorney’s Office froze my accounts?”

  “It appears so.”

  Outside the bank, stinging wind clawed at her face and she hunched against it. Her eyes watered, whether from the wind or the ungluing of her life, she didn’t care. Hanging on to her emotions, maintaining that brutal control she always fought for, mixed with the lack of sleep last night, left her wrung out. She wiped at her eyes, inhaling and exhaling a few times to let that good, clean oxygen clear her mind. I can do this.

  At the corner, they stopped to wait for the red light and she faced David. “Why would they freeze my accounts?”

  “I don’t know. But my brother is an ASA for Cook County. We’ll call him and get answers.”

  * * *

  TWO BLOCKS FROM Zac’s office, David and Amanda entered a café and grabbed an empty table toward the back. The surrounding tables were all unoccupied and would give them some privacy. Thanks to the aroma of fresh coffee and baked goods, David craved a caffeine-laced sugar buzz.

  A handful of customers were busy yapping with their friends or messing with electronic devices and barely noticed them. Zac had made a good choice with this place.

  Upon leaving the bank, David had called and given his brother the Amanda’s-life highlights and he must have made a call or two, because he suddenly had info for them. And by arranging to meet at the café rather than his office, it was clear he didn’t want his coworkers to see him delivering that info.

  The bells on the door jangled and Zac entered, suit in perfect order, his blond hair equally neat, and David was reminded of their differences. I have to be adopted.

  Sharp-dressed Zac was the epitome of blue-blood offspring. His overall fair-haired appearance gave him an air of confidence—superiority, really—which he exploited in every way possible. Whether in a courtroom or socially, Zac knew how to work people and he wasn’t ashamed to throw around the Hennings name if it got him somewhere. David? He’d done his best to avoid references to the family name. Whereas David looked like a regular Joe in his jeans and biker boots, his little brother screamed wealth and privilege.

  Zac perused the place, but with the lack of crowd, they weren’t hard to spot.

  “Hey,” he said, backhanding David on the shoulder.

  David stood and shook his brother’s hand. “Thanks for coming. This is Amanda.”

  Zac hit her with the famous Hennings grin, and David damn near puked. He supposed he shouldn’t comment or crack wise because as much as he avoided throwing the family name around, he had no problem whipping out his own version of that smile when necessary. At this point, it was a tool in their arsenal. A tool that rarely failed.

  “Thank you for seeing us,” Amanda said.

  “Sure. If my brother is involved, I’m happy to help.”

  “Yada, yada,” David said. “What do you have?”

  Zac took the chair between them and leaned forward on his elbows. “Not much. It’s a little sideways.”

  Everything was these days. David held his hand palm up. “Meaning?”

  “I talked to the prosecutor who wrote it up.”

  “And?”

  Zac swung to Amanda. “You need to hire an attorney.”

  Not what David wanted to hear. Hiring an attorney meant the government’s case had teeth. What they needed to know was how sharp those teeth were. And if they were real. Because the spooked looked on Amanda’s face and the sudden dismemberment of her life led him to believe someone had targeted her. He didn’t know her well. At all. But he liked to think his judgment was sound when it came to people and their character, and nothing about her set off his thief meter. He leaned toward her and held out his hand. “Give me a dollar.”

  “What?”

  “My brother has told you to hire an attorney. For the time being, that’s me. Give me a dollar and you’ve retained me.”

  “Oh, my God. What’s happening?”

  Zac jerked his chin. “Give him a dollar.”

  Amanda dug out her wallet and combed through the bills. “I don’t have a dollar.”

  She slapped a five into his hand.

  “That works.” He went back to Zac. “What have you got?”

  “They think she violated UDAP.”

  UDAP. What the hell? “How?”

  “What’s UDAP?” Amanda asked.

  Zac took that one. “It’s a consumer protection law, part of the FTC Act. Have you ever been involved in a check-cashing business?”

  “No.”

  “Know anyone who has?”

  “Don’t answer that yet.” David kept his eyes on Zac. “What do they think she did?”

  Whatever this was, Zac had at least some details, and as much as he trusted his brother, he still worked for the state’s attorney, who’d just seized Amanda’s assets.

  “From what I saw, they think she’s involved with a company that buys debts owed to payday-loan places. They allegedly call consumers and tell them they owe an amount higher than the original loan. Someone thinks you helped bankroll a check-cashing company where he cashed a couple of checks. Then, months later, he gets a call from some company saying he didn’t pay back the loan and he’d be going to jail if he didn’t make it snappy. It’s all bogus. The SA went into an ex parte hearing this morning.”

  Amanda’s head dipped. “Ex what?”

  “Parte,” David said. “It means they don’t have to give you notice. It’s usually for temporary orders until a formal hearing happens. In this case, they want to make sure you can’t start moving money.”

  Of the list of offenses David had guessed—mail fraud, kiting checks—a loan scam hadn’t even come close to the top. And he knew, as sure as he was sitting there, this was garbage. Had it been just the UDAP violation, he might have been able to stretch his imagination and at least consider the possibility. As a wills and trusts attorney, he saw all kinds of financial shenanigans. All these weird occurrences combined? No way. Someone was methodically dismantling Amanda’s life.

  “No.” She jammed her finger into the table. “Nuh-uh. That’s not me. I’ve never been in one of those loan places, let alone funded one. How can they just tie up my money?”

  David patted air. “This is nonsense. But yes, they can do it. Asset forfeiture allows prosecutors to freeze accounts they believe are part of alleged criminal activity.” He set his hand on her shoulder and squeezed before going back to Zac. “Whose name is in the court filings?”

  “Simeon Davis,” Zac said to Amanda. “Do you know him? Maybe he’s a past client or someone you interacted with.”

  “Or,” David added, “someone who might have a beef with you?”

  For a few seconds, she stared down at the table, gripping the edge, popping her knuckles with the effort. After a minute, she met David’s ga
ze straight on. “I don’t think so. The name isn’t familiar.”

  “But you’re not sure.”

  “David, I’ve interacted with a lot of people over the years. He could be the guy who works where I buy my art supplies. I know he’s not a client or someone I do business with on a regular basis.”

  He sat back and rested his hands on his thighs. Annoying her wouldn’t help them. “All right. Don’t get mad.”

  “I’m not mad. I’m being honest.”

  Zac’s phone beeped and he rose from his chair. “Listen, kids, I gotta get back. Obviously, this conversation stays between us.”

  “No doubt,” David said. “You haven’t told us anything I couldn’t find out on my own anyway. You saved me time, though. Thanks.”

  Amanda stood and held out her hand. “Thank you, Zac.”

  He glanced down at her hand, and the side of his mouth twisted. “Hell with that.”

  And then, little brother, being a total wise guy, leaned in and hugged Amanda, the whole time his eyes on David, challenging the bonds of brotherly affection.

  “I know what you’re doing,” David said.

  “I’m sure you do, Dave. I’m sure you do.”

  After mauling her, Zac gave David their version of the shoulder-slap-chest-bump man hug. David had his issues with Penny, but he and Zac? They were solid. Always had been.

  “I’ll see you tonight,” he said. “I told Mom I’d swing by. She’s got some invitation samples for Emma to look at.”

  “Yeah, well, good luck with that.”

  “I hear you, brother. Later.”

  Amanda slid back into her seat and waited for David to do the same. “I like him,” she said.

  “You should. He’s the best.”

  “So, no sibling rivalry with him? Only Penny.”

  “He’s the mediator.” He shrugged. “From the time we were kids, it’s been that way. But we’re not talking about that now. Now we head to my condo and do research. Let’s find Simeon Davis and see why he’s accusing you of fraud.”

  * * *

  DAVID NABBED A parking space in front of his building and as soon as he’d cut the engine, his cell phone rang. At least someone’s phone had activity; Amanda’s had remained annoyingly silent. Nothing from her landlord on her building or her call in to Detective McCall. And now, with this Simeon Davis development, she’d tried again but was told the detective was on a homicide call. Who knew when he’d get back to her?