Lies: Web of Sin book #2

by Aleatha Romig

  Sitting on the edge of the bed facing me, Daniel let out a long sigh.

  Although the scene was blurry through my tears and my emotions were all over the place, I tried to think like Daniel’s wife. The man sitting near me with his knees spread and his elbows on his knees, holding his head, was about as far from the law student who made me fall in love with him as a man could be. Disheveled and distraught were two descriptors that came to mind.

  “It began before I left Keller and Hawkins...” Daniel said dejectedly.

  “Daniel, please. I’m a judge.”

  He sprang to his feet. “You’re my fucking wife. You know the law. You can’t be compelled to testify against me.” He paced the small worn path to the vanity and back. “It’s more than that. There’s an even better reason why you can’t testify.”

  I didn’t ask, yet I couldn’t look away.

  “They’ll kill you. They’ll kill me.” Red filled his face as he gestured toward me. “They’ll kill her, probably before she ever takes her first breath. Annie, they won’t hesitate. Fuck, prison would be safer, but they have people there too. They’re everywhere. But if we leave the country...”

  My skin prickled as the ice of his statements flowed through my veins. “We aren’t leaving the country. We call the police. That’s who helps people when they’re threatened.”

  “They own the fucking police.”

  “Then we call the FBI,” I said. “I know. We contact the ones who did the raid. Or Agent Bane. He gave me his card. We call him.”

  Daniel’s head shook back and forth. “No.”

  My stomach twisted as nausea bubbled, and Araneae moved within me. “Tell me who,” I demanded. “If my life—our daughter’s life—is in jeopardy, I should know from whom.”

  “You know who my clients are.”

  “Rubio.” Daniel’s sister’s husband. Rubio McFadden owned one of the biggest construction companies in Chicago and was serving his second term in the Illinois state senate.

  “Yes, thanks to Pauline,” Daniel said. “That client acquisition helped me branch out on my own. The McFadden account is the cornerstone to McCrie and Associates. Getting out of criminal defense and into finance and crisis management has made us very wealthy.”

  “Are you saying that your own family is threatening to kill us?”

  Daniel sat back on the side of the bed. “The McFaddens aren’t my only clients.”

  My head shook as I swallowed the churning bile that was burning my throat and chest. “You have many clients.”

  “Including...” he encouraged.

  “Are we talking big or small?”

  “Big, Annie, the biggest in Chicago.”

  “Sparrow,” I said louder than before. “You’re working for Allister Sparrow?”

  I might be a judge, but I wasn’t blind. I knew there was more to Allister Sparrow than Sparrow Enterprises. I’d heard the rumors, the whispers, and seen the headlines.

  “In a way,” Daniel said.

  It was my turn to stand and pace. “We’re in the middle of nowhere, and you’re talking in riddles. Tell me what happened. Do you work for Sparrow Enterprises or not?”

  “I can’t say, not completely.” He took another deep breath. “When my clients have an issue that needs fixing I help them. Pretend there’s a mistress who needs an abortion or a girlfriend who needs incentive to keep her mouth shut. It’s not always that kind of stuff. Sometimes it’s finding people who have gone missing, when the parents can afford to keep the details away from the media. Most of the time, those cases are simple situations where a rich teenage kid goes rogue, borrows Mom or Dad’s credit card, and hops a plane to the Caribbean.

  “My firm finds them and brings them home. No one knows—no potential colleges or military programs—and the problem is fixed.

  “Financially, I move money. I do what can be done to help people, even Rubio, from paying taxes on some of the income, especially if the income comes from less-than-legal sources.”

  I shook my head. “Stop, Daniel. I can’t testify against you, but I could against your clients if I know what’s happening.”

  “The money moving is especially lucrative and easy,” he went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “It’s not complicated especially with shell companies.”

  “Dan—”

  He lifted his hand. “I’m telling you this because if or when something happens to me, you need to know that I’ve hidden a great sum in a few different accounts—”

  The bubbling won.

  My boots slipped on the worn carpet as I regained my footing and ran toward the lavatory. Reaching for the toilet seat, I fell to my knees. I hadn’t eaten much since breakfast. The bigger Araneae became, the less room I had for food. That didn’t stop the dry heaves as I hung my head over the toilet and my body convulsed.

  With my head pounding, they eventually stopped. Standing, I made my way to the sink. Cupping a handful of sulfur-scented water, I held my breath and rinsed my mouth. By the time I turned back around, Daniel was standing, his face red as tears descended his cheeks.

  For a moment, I couldn’t speak.

  I’d never in our lives seen him cry. He’d been sad when I’d miscarried, but he never showed it. At the time, I thought it was his way of supporting me, letting me know he didn’t blame me. What I was seeing now was different.

  “Annie, I’m so sorry.”

  “Did you steal that money?” I asked. “From our family?”

  He shrugged. “It came from multiple sources. Some here and some there.”

  “Is that why we’re in danger?”

  “No,” Daniel said, “I haven’t been caught.”

  “Then, dear God, what is this about?”

  “About a year ago, a kid went missing. He was—”

  “Please, don’t use names,” I said.

  “Okay,” Daniel replied. Sitting on the end of the bed, he patted the surface beside him. “Annabelle, have a seat, and I’ll do my best to make this impersonal.”

  As I sat, he went to our coats that had been left on one of the vinyl chairs. When he turned, he was holding a small flask. “I’m sorry. I know how you feel about me drinking, but I can’t get through this if I don’t.”

  There was no fight left in me. “Impersonal,” I reminded him.

  The bed shifted as he sat. “This kid wasn’t my normal type of client. His family didn’t have money. The mother worked for one of my clients. That client came to me, knowing what I had done in the past and asked for my help. She offered to pay whatever expenses were incurred if I found the kid.

  “It was a rabbit hole. The dark web...” He took a drink from the flask, leaving the cap open. “...I started putting together bits and pieces. The trails were well hidden. I shouldn’t have been able to follow them. But over the years, I’ve worked with and for some of the best. I started to uncover things that were strangely familiar.” His eyes closed. “Once I saw, I couldn’t unsee.

  “I thought maybe I could leverage my newfound knowledge, save the kid and make money in the process.”

  “Blackmail?” I asked, flabbergasted. “You blackmailed—”

  “Technically, it was attempted. It didn’t work like I’d hoped.”

  “Was any of this on the computers or in the files that the FBI seized?” I asked.

  “No. I played that part smart. The evidence is all hidden. The FBI will come up empty. That’s why we’re still alive. I swore on my own life—on all of our lives—that the evidence would never be seen.

  “I gave Allister what he wanted, but it wasn’t enough.”

  “Do we have to leave Chicago?” I asked. “Can’t Rubio help us?”

  Daniel’s eyes closed and opened a few times. “He’s my brother-in-law, but I’m already in debt to him. If I ask this...”

  “Then I’ll talk to Pauline. We’ll work it out. If anyone can help us against Allister Sparrow, it’s Rubio.”

  “I can’t go back on my agreements. Leaving would be the safest.�
�

  My head pounded from the stress.

  “Daniel, I want to go home. But I’m not sure I can make the car ride right now.” I stood and walked toward the head of the bed. Pulling back the covers, I assessed the sheets. They were white. I said a little prayer that they’d been bleached since their last use. “I’m going to lie down. When I wake, we’re going home.”

  “The evidence. Don’t you want to know where it is?”

  “No,” I answered matter-of-factly.

  “Annie, if something happens to me, it could be your saving grace, your bargaining chip.”

  I laid my head on the pillow and met my husband’s gaze. “Then don’t let anything happen. Stay safe.”

  Daniel didn’t say another word as the heater roared to life. With nothing but white noise, I drifted to sleep.

  I didn’t know the time when I’d lain down or for how long I’d been asleep, but when I awoke, I was alone. In the chair was my coat. Daniel’s was gone. With my heart beating faster, I slipped on my boots and made my way to the old ratty drapes covering the window. More stale odors filled the air as I moved the drapery. Beyond the glass, the sky was dark, yet the yellow beams from the lamp posts in the parking area reflected new accumulating snowfall.

  A tear fell from my eye. Pushing it away, I made a vow to be strong.

  “For you, spider-girl,” I said aloud.

  She and I were alone. Daniel’s rental car was gone. Based upon the level of snow in the spot where he’d been parked, he’d been gone for a while.

  Araneae

  Sterling had been right about our private dining area. Much like the club last week, the hostess greeted us with excessive enthusiasm, forgoing other customers as she personally escorted us up the modern-looking stairs to our private dining area.

  In shades of gray, the interior was chic and subtle. Through a larger dining area and off a hallway we were led to the private room. One wall was covered in gray tile as water flowed over the surface. The other walls were like the rest of the restaurant, shades of gray.

  Beside our table was a silver ice bucket, complete with a bottle of champagne.

  Sterling pulled out my chair with a grin as his stare bore into mine.

  After the hostess promised us the best service possible, we were momentarily left alone.

  Sitting in the chair beside mine, Sterling’s hand disappeared under the black tablecloth, finding its way to my knee. His gaze teased as his fingers inched upward. Almost immediately, a gentleman dressed in all white appeared in the doorway. Sterling’s lips quirked as his hand found mine and pulled our union to the top of the table.

  “Mr. Sparrow,” the man said. “It is a great honor to have you and your guest with us tonight.”

  Though his expression had lost its mischief, our connection remained unsevered. Sterling squeezed my hand. “Chef Nicholas, this is my very special guest, my girlfriend, Araneae McCrie.”

  Girlfriend.

  It seemed strange for a man like Sterling to use the same term that teenagers used, yet unlike other descriptors he’d employed, this one seemed accurate. If it were, that made him my boyfriend.

  No, Sterling Sparrow wasn’t a boy.

  According to Sterling’s rules, my introduction to the chef meant I could speak.

  Why did I remember that?

  Chef Nicholas stepped forward and offered me his hand. With my right hand free, we shook. As we did, he said, “What a lovely and unusual name.”

  Sterling nodded. “For an extraordinary woman.”

  “Well, thank you,” I replied.

  “For you, tonight,” the chef said, “the menu is yours to design. Tell me what you desire and you shall have it.”

  Sterling looked my way, his gaze telling me that what he desired was not on the menu. He turned back to Chef Nicholas. “We’ll have the ten-course tasting with wine pairings. Surprise us.”

  As Sterling spoke, another gentleman entered the room.

  “This is Anthony,” the chef said. “He will be one of your servers this evening.” He gestured toward the chilled bottle of champagne. “Once he opens your champagne, we will prepare your feast.”

  My eyes grew wider with each statement.

  The pop of the cork echoed as Anthony, with a towel over his arm, poured a small amount of the bubbling liquid into one glass.

  “Sir?” he said, offering Sterling the glass.

  Sterling nodded my way. “Let the lady try it.” He looked at me. “If it’s not to your liking, we’ll open bottles all night until we find the right one.”

  Anthony handed me the crystal flute. “Ma’am.”

  Letting go of Sterling’s hand, I accepted the flute and brought the rim to my lips. The liquid bubbled, tickling my nose as the tart dry taste covered my tongue.

  “Will it do?” Sterling asked.

  “Yes,” I said to both men, setting the flute down upon the black linen tablecloth. “It’s delicious.”

  After filling both glasses, Anthony excused himself, leaving us alone.

  Sterling lifted his glass and I did the same. “To our first date.”

  Our glasses came together to the clink of connecting crystal.

  “I believe I chose our destination unwisely,” he said after a sip of the champagne.

  “Why?” I asked, looking around. “This place seems amazing.”

  “Wait until the food arrives. It’s a production. Dry ice makes smoke effects. LED lighting hidden in the plates and under ice. The various servers will explain every dish, and just wait for dessert.”

  “And why is that a problem?”

  “Because, Araneae, I want nothing more than to finish what I started prior to Chef Nicholas’s entrance; however, with Alinea’s attention to service and detail, I’m afraid that will have to wait.”

  My muscles tightened. “Anticipation, Mr. Sparrow. This is our first date. And with ten courses, I’m afraid what you’re wanting may have to wait for tomorrow. I may have a food coma.”

  “I would prefer to put you in another type of coma.”

  I didn’t get the chance to answer; we were joined again by another server.

  The courses and wine continued until I wasn’t sure I could eat or drink another mouthful.

  A balloon.

  That was what came with the dessert. The entire evening was truly a unique experience. As we stood to leave, I mentioned to Sterling that I needed to make a stop in the restroom.

  “I’m not comfortable letting you out of my sight.”

  “Then you’re going to need to get me a female bodyguard because I don’t have a choice, and I don’t think even the great Mr. Sparrow should be seen entering a ladies’ room.”

  Placing his hand on my back, he replied, “I’ll escort you, sunshine. I’ll be right outside the door.”

  The truth was that I had an alternate reason for going in the restroom. Locking the door of the stall, I did what I should have done back at the apartment. I removed the satin thong. Yes, it made me uncomfortable to walk to the car, and down the stairs.

  Oh jeez.

  However, our first date had been—well, everything.

  Maybe it was the multiple tastes of wine. All I knew for sure was that I was ready to get back to the apartment, but the fire I wanted to play with was the heat that had been smoldering all night long in Sterling’s eyes, not what would happen to my ass if he knew I’d defied him.

  When I opened the door, Sterling was waiting. “Are we all set to go home or would you like another stroll down by the lake?”

  “Home sounds good.”

  “It does when you say it. Patrick is waiting outside.”

  As we climbed into the back seat, I turned to Sterling. “Thank you, this was the best first date I’ve had—ever.”

  “It’s not over. Remember, we have unfinished business.”

  “I think you’ve forgotten my first-date rule.”

  “No, I didn’t,” he said. “I plan to break it and then punish you for doing so.”r />
  My head tilted. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

  He leaned closer, his whisper low. “I’ll let you come.”

  My cheeks grew warmer as they rose. “Maybe I won’t let you.”

  Without warning he tugged my leg closer to him and walked his fingers near my core.

  “Oh,” I moaned before I could bite my lip. “Sterling.”

  His lips were at my neck. “Shh. I’m just checking, doing what I’ve wanted to do since you walked down those stairs.”

  Willingly, I opened myself to him as my eyes closed.

  A simple sweep of his finger and a lingering roll of my clit was all it took to string me higher. My fingers splayed over his thigh as I tried to ignore that Patrick was right in front of us.

  Removing his hand, Sterling brought his finger to my lips. Without hesitation I sucked his digit, not stopping when it was clean, but instead reaching for his hand and taking his entire finger into my mouth.

  The control in his gaze changed before my eyes, melting into molten desire. “Sunshine, you’re playing with fire.”

  I liked fire.

  “I have an idea,” I said as he retrieved his hand.

  “You do?”

  “I do. A way to not break my rule, not technically.”

  His head tilted.

  It wasn’t until we were back in our bedroom that my idea was made clear, yet by Sterling’s actions, I was relatively certain we were on the same wavelength.

  “First,” he said after our door was closed and locked, “that dress needs to go.”

  I reached for the zipper at the side of the bodice.

  “No, sunshine, I’m peeling it off of you.”

  My hands stilled as he walked toward me, each step more predatory than the last. A further tug of the zipper and a pull of the golden scarf that had been my sash and Sterling lifted the hem, pulling the dress up and over my head. He teased a strand of my hair back over my shoulders. The cool air-conditioned air contrasted with the fire in his eyes as he scanned me from my high heels to my blonde hair.