The tightness in my throat makes it difficult to speak. “The ring is gone. I sold it. But I’ve got four thousand in my bank account. I can write you a check. Just—please don’t tell anyone.”
“A check?” He shakes his head. “I only deal in cash and diamonds, sweetheart. Besides, the way I see it, you owe me a little over two hundred grand.”
Bile burns the back of my throat. Yes, I took the ring, and yes, he’s due compensation, but he’s crazy if he thinks I owe him two hundred thousand dollars. “That ring wasn’t worth more than five.”
“True, but there’s also the matter of the money your sister stole from me.” Cunning sparkles in his eyes. “And since you’re here and she’s not, I’ll collect from you.”
The world I’ve built for myself comes crashing to my feet. “You’re Cash Delacorte.” Calliope’s ex-boyfriend. The one who took her out of the strip club and turned her into a high society cat burglar. The man she ran from and never looked back. Tension stabs between my shoulder blades.
“Damn straight, I am.” His stare burns through me, through my defenses, through my courage. “Did you think I wouldn’t come looking for you?” The heat from his large body seeps through my clothing and into my soul, igniting a fire of danger and desire. “So how are we gonna settle this? The way I see it, you owe five thousand for the ring. Two hundred grand for your sister’s debt.”
My stomach drops. Maybe, if I sold my Honda, I could come up with five grand, but two hundred thousand dollars? There’s no way. “I—I don’t have that kind of money.”
He smirks. The gesture might have been adorable under different circumstances. “Tell you what. I’m feeling generous today. Forget the ring. Let’s make it an even two hundred G’s, and we’ll call it a day.”
Callie never said much about Cash. She kept that part of her life secret from me. Now I know why. He’s terrifying and charming and cunning. After a deep breath, I summon my courage and stare back into his deep brown eyes. “I’ll pay you for the ring, but I don’t know anything about Calliope’s debt, and I won’t be responsible for it.”
“Oh, girl.” One of his eyebrows lifts like he’s shocked at my refusal. His chuckle reverberates through my body and straight to the space between my legs. “You don’t get to decide that.”
“And what if I don’t pay you?”
With an easy push, he retreats from me and the wall and returns his hands to his pockets. “In my line of work, it ain’t no big thing to make a person disappear.”
My brain races through options and scenarios. None of them end well. “I—I don’t have that kind of cash, but if you give me a little time, I can come up with the money for the ring.”
“Two hundred grand, Jagger. That’s the deal. Either you pay up, or you don’t. Your choice. You’ve got one week.” He sighs, letting his shoulders drop. “Well, guess I’ve tied up enough of your time.” Noiselessly, he pivots and strides toward the door. But his departure doesn’t bring relief. If he’s sincere—and I believe he is—this situation is far from over. Halfway to the exit, he pauses, glancing over his shoulder at the covered bridge photograph. “How much?”
“What?”
“For the Stella Valentine. How much?”
“Um, three thousand?”
“I’ll take it as payment for the ring.” I watch in mute shock as he removes the picture from its hanger, tucks it beneath his arm, and unlocks the door. At the threshold, he pauses again. His voice is so quiet that I have to lean forward to hear his words. “I’ll be in touch.”
Two
Cash
Gage gives me a sideways glance from behind the wheel of the Escalade. I slouch down in the seat, ignoring his questioning gaze. He knows me well enough to stay quiet. I reach across the console and turn up the volume of the stereo until the windows rattle. Tiny snowflakes whirl in the headlights as we speed out of the small town.
We’re halfway home before he shuts off the music. “So, how did it go?” Like always, he’s got a knit cap pulled down low over his forehead. Back when we were kids, he’d been a scrawny, pretty boy, and I’d been the bully. Not anymore. He towers over me by a few inches, and his biceps are the size of small melons. That’s why he’s the muscle, and I’m the brains. Just the sight of him would make a man piss his pants.
“Not like I expected.” I shift in the plush bucket seat, trying to find a comfortable position, one that eases the rage and confusion banging against my ribs.
“What does that mean?” He flicks another glance at me. “Is she like Calliope?”
“They look alike.” Same long dark hair, olive complexion, and round ass. The similarities end there. While Callie has a sharpness about her, Jagger is the picture of sweetness. “She’s got the same smart ass mouth.”
Gage chuckles. “That explains a lot.” He met Callie a few days before me. The three of us were tight for close to a decade. Our friendship made her betrayal a bitter pill to swallow. “Did you get the money or not?”
“It’s gonna be more complicated than we thought.” The original plan had been to teach this girl a lesson. A man in my business can’t allow a debt to go unpaid. I’d been prepared to make an example of her until I caught a whiff of her powdery sweet perfume and touched her velvet skin. My dick gets hard at the memory. I adjust the fly of my jeans and try to forget the image of her pouty mouth.
“I still think you should go after Callie for the money. She’s the thief, not her little sis.”
“Callie’s Russian mafia boyfriend has her locked up tight in his Manhattan penthouse. I’ll never get close to her. But her sister? She’s a different story. Besides, going after Jagger sends the message that friends and family are fair game if you fuck with me.”
Gage tugs off his knit cap, tosses it aside, releasing his blond wavy hair. He scrubs a hand over his scalp. “You want me to have a chat with Jagger?”
“No. I’ll take care of it.” In fact, I can’t wait to see her again.
Three
Jagger
The instant Cash steps over the threshold, I jog to the door and flip the lock. Through the display window, I watch him climb into a black Escalade. He pulls away from the curb. The taillights disappear down the street. I set the security alarm and rush out the back. Once I arrive home, I lock all the doors and windows, close the curtains, and sit in the darkness of my bedroom with my knees pulled to my chest and my arms wrapped around them.
My first instinct is to call Calliope, except I don’t have her phone number. When we parted, she made me promise not to contact her. That’s how terrified she was of Cash. I know the general vicinity of her location. She has a rich new boyfriend in Manhattan. If she wanted to find me, she could. She has the resources and the money. Part of me is hurt that she hasn’t reached out, but the other part understands. Her desperate attempt to escape Cash had worked, and she had the selflessness to provide me with this new life. Only she failed to explain the lockbox full of money belonged to him.
Now he’s after me. Not only do I have to come up with two hundred thousand dollars, I’ve got to figure out a way to pay for the Stella Valentine photo tucked beneath his arm. The thought of lying to Mr. Mercer, a kind and generous man, is almost worse than Cash’s retribution. Mr. Mercer can never know.
Emeline comes home a little after midnight. I’m still wide awake. She’s been dating Tony for a few weeks. Their relationship seems to be going pretty well. I haven’t met him yet, but her smiles say everything. I hear her footsteps along the hallway on the way to her room. I hold my breath until her door closes. In the morning, I wait until she goes for a run to take my shower then escape to the store before she returns.
I’m staring out the display window with unseeing eyes when Emeline arrives twenty minutes late. She breezes through the front door, bringing a gust of fresh chilly air along with her. “I know. I’m late.” With a melodramatic sigh, she drops her purse on the counter and strips out of her coat and gloves to reveal a high-waisted pair of red slack
s and a sleeveless, white, ruffled blouse. Smart and classy. “You won’t believe what just happened. Mr. Johnson’s cows got out of the pasture and trampled Margaret Madison’s garden fence. She’s so pissed. She got out her shotgun and started shooting at them. Don’t worry. She’s a terrible shot. Then Mr. Johnson tried to run over her with his pickup truck, and the police came, and I had to—” Her gaze lands on my face then the blank spot where the framed photo had been. “What’s wrong? You’re pale as a ghost. Where’s the Stella Valentine photograph?”
“I sold it.” My tone is flat and dejected, but she doesn’t notice.
“Shut up. No way.” After tossing her long, brown curls over her shoulder, she marches to the wall. It’s a big deal. We haven’t had more than a few sales in the last month. “The gangbanger guy?”
A war erupts between my conscience and the need for self-preservation. She would never tell a soul, but if I confess, she’ll become a party to the deception, and I can’t do that to her. I decide to remain cautious for the time being. “Yeah.”
“Nice.” The floorboards creak as she whirls and strides back to me. “He was hot. Scary but in a sexy way. I think he liked you.”
Some of the tension eases out of my shoulders. If she’s teasing me, she doesn’t suspect anything. I roll my eyes. “You’re crazy.”
Mischief flickers in her eyes. “Did you guys have freaky kinky sex after I left?” She pats a hand on the counter. “Here?”
“Of course not.” A flush heats my face because the thought had crossed my mind in that instant between his arrival and his ultimatum. To avoid her scrutiny, I flee to the backroom and begin unboxing a crate of handcrafted porcelain dolls.
Emeline follows me. “Did you tell Mr. Mercer about the sale?”
“No. His surgery was yesterday, remember?” The straw packing material crackles as I toss it aside.
“Oh, that’s right. I hope everything went well.” She gathers up the straw and stuffs it into a bag. “What about Stella? Does she know?”
“Not yet. She’s in Tanzania on a photoshoot. I’ll send her an email.”
“Must be nice to travel the world with your hot husband.” A heavy sigh gusts from between her pursed lips. “We should all be so lucky.”
“Yeah.” For a brief moment, I contemplate the luxury of overseas travel. I’ve always wanted to see the world. At this rate, I’ll be lucky to see another morning. “I went to England once. With my sister. She was working there and took me along. We didn’t really have time to sightsee, though.” It had been a job for Cash, robbing the patrons of an elite masquerade ball, and the last time I saw Callie. At Heathrow Airport, she’d sent me on my way with a hug and the key to her lockbox.
“Really? That’s cool.” Em’s brow furrows. “Wait a sec. You have a sister?”
“Yes.” A lump tightens my throat. “But we haven’t seen each other in years.”
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry.” Emeline crouches on her heels beside me and strokes a hand down my arm, empathy clouding her expression. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s okay.” Four years hasn’t lessened the emptiness in my chest left by Callie’s absence. “We aren’t in contact anymore.”
“What happened?”
“It’s complicated.” Where would I even begin to recount the epic disaster of our lives? The parents who loved their addictions more than us. The grandmother who was kind to me but hated Callie. “She got mixed up with some bad people and started over with a new identity.” Not exactly a lie, but not the truth either. To my knowledge, Cash had never laid a hand on her, and to his credit, he saved her from a life of prostitution. Other than that, Callie had kept the details of their relationship a secret.
“Why don’t you give her a call?” The sorrow in her tone brings the sting of tears to my eyes. She stands, giving me an encouraging smile. “I’m sure she’d be thrilled to hear from you.”
“No. I can’t. We—I just can’t. I don’t even know her number.” Although Emeline has been a trusted friend and employee for the past two years, no one knows the truth about my sister, and I plan to keep it that way. “I wouldn’t want to endanger her new life.”
“Well, it’s her loss.” Em takes one of the dolls and traces the round features with a fingertip. “These are cute. They should sell well. Do you have the details? I’ll get them up on the website.”
“Sure.” With an inward sigh of relief, I hand her the packing slip. She hums to herself as she returns to the office. I continue to work, my hands operating through muscle memory while my mind searches for resolutions to my newest dilemma.
“Hey, I don’t see the receipt for the photograph.” From my position in the backroom, her frown is evident. “Did he charge it or pay cash? The payment needs to hit the bank today. We’re a little tight on making payroll. Also, I’d like to cut Stella’s commission check since tomorrow is the end of the month, and I’ll need to close out the books for February.” A frown mars her forehead. “Even with that sale, we’re not going to make a profit.”
Damn, damn, damn. Heat rushes up my neck. “Um, that guy stayed forever. It was late and I didn’t write it up like I should have, but I have the cash. I’ll make the deposit at lunch.”
“I can do it.” She starts to roll her chair away from the desk.
“No.” I spring to my feet then force myself to take a deep breath and relax. With a sheepish smile, I reply, “It’s my fault. I’ll do it. Why don’t you finish putting the new inventory on the website, and I’ll take care of the other. I have to take the deposit to the bank anyway.”
At lunch, I make the hour drive into the city and get a high-interest short-term loan to pay for the Stella Valentine. Then I deposit the money into the store bank account. The weight of one lie is already an enormous burden, dragging my soul into the depths of unhappiness. I have to find a way out of this mess with Cash before anyone finds out.
On the way back to the store, I stop at the hospital to see Mr. Mercer. He’s pale but chipper. His lined face brightens when I walk into his room. “There’s my girl.” His warm greeting doubles my guilt.
“Hi. I hear your surgery went well.” I place the vase of fresh flowers on the dresser and squeeze his hand. “How are you feeling?”
“Better than I have a right to.” His eyes crinkle at the corners. “Have a seat.” He nods toward the chair at his bedside. “Is everything okay at the store? Have you sold anything?” I sandwich his hand between my palms and squeeze. Arthritis has warped his long, artistic fingers.
Guilt presses on my chest. “We sold the Stella Valentine last night.” Anger at Cash bubbles in my veins. If Mr. Mercer knew, he’d be devastated, and I could never disappoint him. Borrowing the money to pay for the photo was the right thing to do.
“Excellent. I knew someone would jump on that thing. Did they squabble on the price? Do you think we should’ve marked it higher?” A worried frown deepens the creases on his forehead.
“No. Not at all.” The warmth of his hand in mine fills my heart with regret. If he knew how stupid I’ve been, he’d never get over it.
“Ah, I’m thrilled.” With a sigh of happiness, he reclines into the pillows. “And what about the Barrett Gems and Jewelry Trade Show in Las Vegas? Have you chosen your pieces yet?”
At his urging, I’ve entered a national trade show for gemologists. The best of the best will be there along with big-name buyers. This could be the break we’ve been waiting for. Waves of nervous anticipation make my stomach twist. “I think so, but I’d like your input.” Using my phone, I show him photos of my proposed merchandise.
“Great choices.” He nods in approval. “I only wish I could go with you.”
“I’ll be fine.” I give him a reassuring smile. “You need to concentrate on getting better. We need you back at the store.”
“You’re doing so well, Jagger. I don’t have any worries at all. Bringing you into the business was the best decision I ever made.”
“Meeting you
changed my life.” I press the back of his hand to my cheek. Memories of my father are limited to his bouts of drunkenness and rage, but in my fantasies, I imagine a real father to be like Mr. Mercer—kind, patient, and warm. Remorse continues to build until my ribs ache. I don’t deserve his praise.
“Mine too.” His smile grows larger. “You’re like a breath of fresh air after a thunderstorm.” Tears shimmer in his eyes. “That’s why I met with my lawyers last week to give you power of attorney over my affairs. I’m just not able to keep up anymore.”
“No. You can’t. I—”
“Stop. I won’t listen to any arguments. It’s what I want.”
It’s my turn for tears. “I’m flattered and grateful. But surely you have someone else? Another relative? A niece or nephew?” I don’t deserve his kindness, not after what I’ve done. “You’ve worked too hard to give it all away to a stranger.”
“Nonsense. You’re more like family than any blood kin. Besides, I lost touch with my family years ago.” Although we’ve had many long conversations since meeting, he’s never mentioned children or relatives. No one has ever come to visit him at the store, and we’ve always spent the holidays together.
“I understand.”
“After Hattie passed on, I was just going through the motions of living. We were married fifty-two years, you know.”
“I know,” I reply softly. He’s spoken of his wife many times. Her photographs still cover the walls of his apartment above the store. “She was lucky to have you.”
“I was lucky to have her.” A rusty chuckle grates from his throat. “That woman gave me hell from sunup to sundown, and I loved every minute of it. We met at the state fair when I was a senior in high school and she was a junior. She had a boyfriend at the time, but I didn’t care. From the moment I first laid eyes on her, I knew she was going to be mine.” Remembrance softens his features. “Love like that only comes once in a lifetime.”
Absolute Power (Absolute Power Duet Book 1) Page 2
