Bourbon Bliss: Bootleg Springs Book Four

by Kingsley, Claire

  “Of course I would.” He reached up to touch my cheek, brushing his fingers against my skin. “I love you, June Bug.”

  I pressed my palm against the side of his face. “I love you too. And I’m fully convinced that despite the obvious challenges, justice will prevail for you.”

  “Thanks. I hope you’re right.”

  “I’m quite certain.”

  And maybe a little Bootleg Justice would help.

  36

  June

  Often, Bootleg Justice was swift, delivered immediately and without hesitation. People settled differences themselves in our town, only involving the law when absolutely necessary. As a result, there weren’t a lot of lawsuits in Bootleg Springs. Secret town meetings, bar fights, justice committees, and other less-than-official means were our way.

  It was a fact of life I’d understood to be outside the norm, but accepted as the way things were done here. Misty Lynn Prosser had cheated on Gibson Bodine, so Scarlett had broken her nose. Bootleg Justice. Earl Wilkins had ridden his lawn mower through Adeline Porter’s fence and refused to fix it, so Adeline had done the fixing and painted Earl’s side rainbow. Bootleg Justice. Leah Mae Larkin’s ex had engaged in public assholery, so the Bodines had tossed him in a dumpster. Bootleg Justice.

  But sometimes, Bootleg Justice was quieter. It didn’t always involve dumpsters and bar fights. Sometimes it was simply a way to encourage a person to quit being a dick-licking douchenozzle, as Scarlett would say.

  Andrea Wilson most definitely needed a dose of Bootleg Justice.

  I wasn’t going to try to step in and be George’s accountant to fix his tax problems. But his assistant? By Bootleg standards, she was fair game.

  So I went to Cassidy for help. Her research skills proved to be immensely helpful. She dug up some very interesting information on Ms. Andrea Wilson. And we came up with a plan.

  Of course, George knew nothing about this. I had no qualms about that. My mom and I had been organizing secret town meetings—only when absolutely necessary, of course—without my father’s knowledge for years. She’d always said what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, and now I truly understood what she’d meant. Because he was the sheriff, he couldn’t know when the town came together to do something that was slightly outside the confines of the law. Even when it was the right thing to do.

  And it was always only slightly outside the law. Nadine Tucker was a law-abiding woman, and she’d raised us right.

  Much like my dad, George couldn’t know that I was planning to treat Andrea to a dose of Bootleg Justice. This was something that needed to happen, and although I suspected he’d understand, it was better for him if he had no knowledge of it. The legalities were simpler that way.

  With that in mind, I used George’s phone while he was in the shower to text Andrea, asking her to come to Bootleg Springs to meet as soon as possible. I was surprised—and suspicious—at how quickly she agreed. I’d expected her to refuse, or possibly not reply at all. But she did, and once the meeting was set, I quickly deleted the texts.

  I’d tell George when it was done. For now, my plan required secrecy.

  George had come back to Bootleg Springs with me, and for the time being, was staying in my house. I was surprised at how comfortable I felt having him here. My personal space was important to me. Having Jonah for a roommate had proven to be minimally intrusive. But this was far more than another person living in the same house. This was a very large man sharing my room. My bed.

  I loved it.

  The first night, when we’d climbed in bed together, first base had quickly turned to second. Then George had stolen third. It had been satisfying for us both, although I was surprised he hadn’t suggested we go for home. Perhaps after our one and only experience with intercourse, he was reluctant to make another attempt. Or perhaps he was waiting for me to suggest it.

  Regardless, I’d gone to sleep tucked against his large body, his hand splayed across my stomach. It was hard to imagine anything more wonderful.

  My blissful nights with George sleeping in my bed had hardened my resolve to handle the Andrea situation. The thought of George going to prison was abhorrent. Mostly because of his innocence. But also because then I’d have to give him up.

  That was unacceptable.

  The next day, I told George I had some things to see to. Without revealing why, I’d asked Jonah to keep him busy. The two of them were going for a run—George’s knee had healed to the point that he was able to run without pain—then coming home to grill steaks. That would give me adequate time for what I needed to do, and keep George out of the way while I did it.

  Shortly before the appointed time, I went to the Lookout, the designated location for the meeting. Cassidy and Scarlett were there, seated at the table next to me, with drinks and a plate of garlic fries—adding to the pretense that they weren’t there with me.

  The door opened. My blood froze with icy cold anger when Andrea walked inside. She was dressed in a stylish blouse and slacks, holding a designer bag. My eye twitched in irritation. She’d probably bought that with stolen money.

  She looked around, believing she was meeting George. Her eyes landed on me and recognition showed on her face. I folded my hands in front of me and met her gaze, keeping my expression carefully neutral.

  “June?” she asked, coming over to my table. “I’m Andrea, GT’s assistant. We met once before. Is GT here?”

  “No, George is not present,” I said, emphasizing his full name. “But please take a seat.”

  “What’s going on?”

  Cassidy and Scarlett had first suggested I appear friendly, lulling Andrea into a false sense of security. Then we’d all acknowledged that acting was not on my list of skills. Straightforward was our best option.

  “George doesn’t know you’re here,” I said. “I asked you to come so we could discuss the issue at hand. Woman to woman.”

  She pressed her lips together, her eyes narrowing, as she slowly lowered into the seat across from me. “I don’t have anything to discuss with you.”

  Her words didn’t match her actions. She claimed she had nothing to say while simultaneously sitting down, as if she meant to stay. But instead of confusing me, this contradiction spurred me on.

  “I disagree.”

  “You’ve been banging GT for a few months, and you think that means you can speak on his behalf? I’ve been working for him for the better part of a decade.”

  “Stealing from him, you mean.”

  “I’ve been loyal to him. You have no idea what it’s like to work for a professional athlete.”

  “I don’t suppose I do, yet I fail to see how that has any bearing on the current situation.”

  She sat back and crossed her arms. “He’s going to drop you. Whatever points you think you’ll score here won’t matter. I’ve seen it plenty of times. You’re not special. Trust me.”

  Andrea was trying to bait me, as she might any other woman. Ignite sparks of jealousy so I’d focus on defending myself and my relationship with George. For the first time in my life, I was grateful for whatever it was that made me June Tucker. June Bot indeed. Robots didn’t get jealous.

  I wasn’t here to prove to her that George loved me. I was here to negotiate.

  “We both know there are discrepancies on George’s tax returns, as well as in the amounts paid to the IRS,” I said. “It’s my understanding that you’re the one who has been responsible for George’s finances, including his taxes, for a number of years.”

  “Are you accusing me of something?”

  “Not yet.”

  She licked her lips. “All I ever had to work with was the documentation GT provided me. If he underpaid, it’s because he was trying to hide things.”

  “So you claim you acted in good faith.”

  “Of course I did.”

  Cassidy stood from the table behind us, dressed in her sheriff’s deputy uniform, and came over to lean her hip against the table. “June.”r />
  “Deputy.”

  Scarlett wandered over and leaned against the table next to us. She was dressed in street clothes, but had a lanyard around her neck with some sort of ID card, turned backwards so I couldn’t read it. She crossed her arms and leveled Andrea with a fiery stare.

  “Ms. Wilson, are you familiar with an online forum called Jersey Chaser?” Cassidy asked.

  Andrea paled. “What about it?”

  “It’s interesting,” Cassidy said. “It’s a subscription service for women to share information and get tips on how to land a pro athlete.”

  “So? There are lots of sites out there like that,” Andrea said.

  “That’s probably true,” Cassidy said. “But this one is special. It has to be, in order to demand a monthly fee to gain access.”

  “This site is run by someone with insider information,” I said. “Someone with access to players’ personal details. Who has a network of contacts—other assistants—who appear happy to share similar information with subscribers. For a fee, I’d assume.”

  Andrea’s spine was stick straight, her jaw set in a hard line. “It’s just a way to connect with colleagues and other people in the industry. Most of us don’t work in an office environment where we see our counterparts on a regular basis. It’s like… a virtual water cooler.”

  “A water cooler where you share player’s locations so groupies can find them?” I asked.

  “It’s a private forum,” she said.

  “Nothing on the internet is truly private,” I said. “For all your attention to detail, you couldn’t hide the fact that you own this website.”

  “Like I said, it’s a place for people in the industry to connect,” she said.

  “People in your industry sure have interesting topics to discuss,” Scarlett said. “One of your most upvoted posts was called Ten Surefire Ways to Fuck a Football Player.”

  “The matchmaking section was particularly fascinating,” Cassidy said. “It looked a hell of a lot like a prostitution ring.”

  “But even if it isn’t,” I said. “You’ve been using your position as George’s assistant to gain access to player schedules and travel plans. You know exactly where to direct women to find players, wherever they are. Clubs, parties, hotel rooms.”

  Andrea huffed out a breath. “Look, I don’t make those guys hook up with these women. They’re looking for it. So okay, yes, I make a little side cash. I refuse to take responsibility for who players decide to bang when they’re on the road.”

  “You give explicit, step-by-step instructions for how to extort the most money out of different players,” I said. “Including married men and men in relationships. You instruct these women on how to get past their defenses, how to convince them to have sex, and what to do afterward to make sure they receive high-caliber gifts. You even have an entire section on unplanned pregnancies.”

  Scarlett rolled her eyes and groaned.

  “What is this?” Andrea asked. “Are you all cops? What do you want from me?”

  “I want you to withdraw your lawsuit,” I said.

  Andrea stared at me. “My reputation in this industry is everything. He already fucking fired me. That’s bad enough. I have to do this to protect myself.”

  I didn’t say a word. Just stared at her, my expression blank.

  “What’s this all about?” she asked. “To tell me you found a forum where groupies trade secrets? That’s not illegal. Players want a certain type of woman. I’m simply making those connections happen. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “The way you go about it, there are about a million things wrong with it,” Cassidy said.

  “What’s your point?” Andrea said, her expression smug.

  “Ms. Wilson, we both know you’re responsible for George’s current predicament. But resolving that isn’t my responsibility. I’ll leave that to the lawyers and accountants. As I stated, I’m here to ask you to drop the civil lawsuit you’ve filed.”

  “Or what?” she asked.

  I didn’t answer her question. I wasn’t going to threaten her. Not openly. And often in a negotiation, people came up with their own answers to their questions if you gave them a little silence to work with.

  “That forum is supposed to be private,” she said. “People say things there that they wouldn’t say in an open setting. You have to keep it in context.”

  I waited, letting her stew over the implications of her posts becoming public knowledge. What would happen if she was exposed. I watched her glance up at my uniformed sister. At Scarlett, who looked like she could be law enforcement or an investigator of some kind. The ID card around her neck was a nice touch.

  Andrea met my eyes again and I let my gaze drift to the window, to where Bowie stood outside a car, wearing a black jacket and dark sunglasses.

  “Who is that outside?” she asked. “Are you going to arrest me? You don’t even have jurisdiction.”

  I intentionally refrained from answering her question. “I wonder what would happen if word got out that an athlete’s assistant has been using private information about her client and his teammates for personal profit. That same assistant who’s allegedly involved in her client’s tax evasion case.”

  “It’s a good story,” Scarlett said. “Lies, money, sex.”

  “So blackmail?” Andrea asked. “Is that it? I drop my lawsuit, and you stay quiet about Jersey Chaser?”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. Here was where I took the risk, but if anyone had an excellent poker face, it was June Bot. “I’m not going to blackmail you. That’s far too complicated. But you are going to drop your lawsuit against George.”

  Her eye twitched again. “Then why even make me drive out here? Why not just go to the press?”

  I glanced out the window at Bowie. Gibson walked by and ruffled his hair. I almost winced. Damn it, Gibson, you’re going to ruin it.

  By the time Andrea looked out the window, Gibson was gone. Bowie almost looked a little scary, standing out there dressed in black, his chiseled jaw clenched.

  Once again, I didn’t say a word. I let Andrea make up a story in her mind about what was happening. Obviously we weren’t going to arrest her, nor was Bowie some sort of federal agent who was ready to take her in. He was a high school vice principal. The worst he could do was give her detention.

  But she didn’t know that. And if I waited long enough, let a few more seconds tick by, she might just—

  “Is he FBI? Or something worse? What is this, some kind of mafia?” she asked. I still didn’t reply. “Oh my god, fine. I’ll drop the lawsuit. Just let me go. Please.”

  “Call your lawyer,” I said.

  “Now?”

  I nodded.

  Her hand trembled as she took out her phone and made a call. I watched with a blank expression while she talked to her lawyer, requesting that they drop the lawsuit against GT Thompson.

  “Happy now?” she asked, slipping her phone back in her purse.

  “I’m satisfied with your decision to withdraw the lawsuit.”

  “So, is that it?” she asked, her eyes flicking to Cassidy and Scarlett. They both acted as if they were bored. “Are you going to let me go?”

  “Yes,” I said. “You’re free to leave.”

  She hesitated, narrowing her eyes. “Are you going to go to the press about my website?”

  “No.”

  With another wary look at all three of us, then at Bowie outside, she stood and gathered her things.

  I watched her go without saying a word. She cast a glance at me over her shoulder and stumbled, almost tripping. Barely keeping her feet, she hurried outside.

  After the door closed behind her, Cassidy and Scarlett both burst into laughter. I couldn’t help myself. I laughed too.

  “Did you see the look on her face?” Scarlett asked. “She was about to pee her pants.”

  Bowie came in and slipped an arm around Cassidy. “She’s gone. Is that it?”

  “Yes, we achieve
d our desired aim,” I said.

  “But why did you tell her you won’t go to the press about her website?” Cassidy asked. “You had her by the lady balls. Why back down like that?”

  “I said I wouldn’t go to the press,” I said. “I didn’t say what George will do. As she so helpfully reminded me, I haven’t been with him very long, so I certainly don’t speak for him.”

  “You’re a little bit evil, Juney,” Bowie said. “But I like it.”

  “Why didn’t you make her admit she stole George’s money?” Scarlett asked.

  “I estimated the chances of getting a confession at less than twenty percent. And even if we did, there would be a high probability that it wouldn’t be admissible in court. So I determined the best course of action would be to use the leverage at our disposal to convince her to drop the lawsuit.”

  “I’m in awe,” Cassidy said. “You assured me you weren’t going to threaten her with anything you couldn’t back up, and you weren’t kidding.”

  “I took a risk and it paid off,” I said.

  “What is this?” Cassidy asked Scarlett, tucking her finger beneath the lanyard around her neck. “You realize that impersonating a law enforcement officer is illegal, right?”

  “It’s just my gym card,” Scarlett said, her eyes going big and round in an expression of mock innocence. “It’s not my fault if Ms. Skankson thought I was FBI or something.”

  Cassidy shook her head, smiling. “You gonna tell George?”

  It was my turn to smile. “In time. For now, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

  37

  George

  The news that Andrea had dropped her lawsuit lifted a weight from my shoulders. I still had the IRS breathing down my neck, but at least I wasn’t trying to fight a war on two fronts.

  And then, not two days later, I got even better news. Marc and his team had clear, undeniable evidence of Andrea’s theft. They’d put together a paper trail that was not only admissible in court, it would prove I hadn’t intentionally defrauded the IRS.