Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
STELLA
“Auntie Stell! Airplane me again!”
“Okay, but only one more time.” Lacing my fingers through my niece’s, I held on as I rocked backward onto the floor, my feet pressed against Sasha’s little belly.
She squealed in delight as I straightened my knees, lifting her higher into the air.
Her giggles morphed into airplane sounds as she kicked her stumpy little legs like crazy, more like she was trying to swim than fly.
“All right, pork chop,” Spence said as he grabbed his daughter around her ribs and lifted her off my feet. “You’ve made Auntie Stella airplane you a million and thirty times already. Time to give her a break.”
I didn’t mind, honestly. I loved every single second I got to spend with my favorite human being on the planet, but I was appreciative for the break. If I was being honest, the muscles in my legs were starting to tremble with strain.
Spence held her up with two hands on her belly dipping her up and down like a plane as he carried her out of the room.
Hefting myself off my parents’ living room floor, I flopped back into my dad’s favorite recliner and grabbed the glass of wine I’d abandoned earlier when my niece decided she wanted all of my attention, taking a much-needed sip.
“You’re so good with her,” my sister-in-law, Kira, said, a soft, genuine smile on her face.
Spence’s wife was absolutely perfect. It didn’t feel like she’d married into my family, but had been born into it, we were all so close.
She knew all about us and what we did, and instead of pulling a runner like my ex had, she’d accepted Spence for who he was, despite the things she might not agree with.
She wasn’t exactly thrilled with our proclivities, and there was no way in hell she’d be a part of a single con, but she loved my curmudgeon of a big brother, warts and all.
She loved all of us. She never made us feel bad about what we did or harp on and on about how wrong it was.
In return, we made sure never to talk about grifting in front of her.
It was the only way we knew to show her the same respect she showed us.
“She’s easy to be good with,” I assured her. “She’s an amazing kid. That’s all you, because everyone knows Spence is a growly jerk most of the time.”
“I heard that,” my brother called out from the kitchen where the rest of our family was congregating around the island, helping my mom put the finishing touches on dinner.
Weekly dinners at my parents’ house were a Ryan tradition, but I’d been banned from the kitchen since I was a teenager when it became clear it wasn’t lack of teaching or interest that made me such a stupendously terrible cook.
For how talented I was at picking pockets, I was equally as bad when it came to trying to prepare food.
I hadn’t been allowed within ten yards of an oven after that one teensy kitchen fire accident.
But in my defense, no one ever told me it was a no-no to put water on a grease fire. At least not that I remembered.
“I know, that’s why I said it so loud,” I called back, making Kira snicker.
“Well, thanks. It’s nice to hear we’re not total failures as parents.”
“Not a chance. You’re fabulous.”
The apples of her cheeks pinked at the compliment. “So are you. So when are you going to bite the bullet and have a kiddo of your own, huh?”
I choked on the sip of wine I’d just taken. “Excuse me?” I wheezed once I was finally able to breathe again.
“You’re so good with Sasha. I was just curious when you thought you might start a family of your own.”
There were many reasons why being the baby of the family sucked, first and foremost the way my family took overprotectiveness to an irrational level.
If they could have gotten away with it, I didn’t doubt they would have tried to pad me with bubble wrap to keep me safe.
In fact, there was that one time when we were all little that Spencer tried to do exactly that.
The first time I ever rode the school bus by myself, my big brother tried his hardest to convince my mom it was necessary.
“What if the bus driver sucks, Mom? If there’s a crash, the bubble paper will protect her. ”
Thank God my mother didn’t let him guilt her, because I never would have lived that down.
But the only thing worse that being the baby was being the single baby.
Serenity dated enough that no one really worried about her, and Spence was happily married.
Meanwhile, I’d barely dated growing up, my lack of seduction skills and clumsiness weren’t exactly a turn-on to the opposite sex.
Then, when I finally met someone, I ended up with my heart smashed to bits.
That combination had created a strange contradiction within my family.
Either they were pushing me to get back out there again, or they were threatening death to any man who looked in my direction they thought wasn’t good enough for me, meaning pretty much every member of the opposite sex. Their yo-yoing reactions made me dizzy.
“Um, I’m pretty sure you have to be having sex in order to have a baby, and it might sound old school, but I think that means you should probably be in a relationship for any of that to happen.”
“Then put yourself out there again. You’re gorgeous and cool and smart and sassy. Any man would be lucky to have you.”
I appreciated her kind words. But . . . “No thank you,” I replied firmly. “I have no interest in re-entering the dating pool. I’m pretty sure there’s pee in it.”
It was Kira’s turn to choke on her drink, then crack up once she was able to breathe again. “Oh, man. That’s colorful.”
“You’re welcome,” I said smugly.
“You know, it’s not all”—she swallowed, trying to find the right words—“all full of pee. That’s mainly just the shallow end, and you don’t want a man from the shallow end anyway.”
I crinkled my nose. “I think this metaphor might be getting away from us.”
Kira cringed and nodded her head. “Yeah, you’re right. I feel kind of like a predator talking like that. How about I be direct instead of all creepy?”
I let out a laugh. “Go for it.”
She took a breath, like she was preparing herself to drop a bomb on something. “I know things with Jason didn’t work out—” I dropped my head back on a dramatic groan before sucking back the last of my wine. But she pushed forward. “But that guy was an über douche.”
“An über douche, huh? Is that bigger than a mega douche? Or a super douche?”
She nodded briskly, her face stern and serious. “Absolutely. It’s the biggest of all the douches. The douchiest douche in all of existence.”
“Noted,” I said, trying not to laugh at her firmness.
“Anyway, like I was saying, I know he’s the biggest of all the douches, King Douche, but it’s been close to two years since you guys broke up, and you’re still closed up tighter than a nun.”
I couldn’t hold it back any longer. Kira was just the sweetest thing in history. More than an hour in her presence and you were at risk of diabetes, so hearing her talk like that was just too damn funny.
“Sorry, sorry,” I offered, holding my hands up in surrender. “I’m stopping now.”
“Anyway,” she repeated, “all I’m saying is that you deserve to have a man who worships you, one who makes you feel as incredible you are.
Preferably one who can give you multiple orgasms.” She smiled giddily, and I nearly threw up in my mouth at the idea that she was potentially describing her and my big brother’s sex life.
“Oh God.” I gagged, feeling the wine I’d just drunk burn as it attempted to crawl back up my throat.
“Please, just . . . no more talk about sex.” I shook my head like I was trying to shake all the gross thoughts out.
“I’m begging you. I have these images playing behind my eyes right now—” I gagged again.
“Oh hush,” she giggled. “I don’t mean it like that.” Her expression grew wistful. “Although—”
“I’ll leave,” I threatened. “I’ll get up right now and walk out.”
“Okay, okay,” she said on a laugh. “I’m done. I promise. What I’m trying to say is you deserve someone as awesome as you are, and I’m worried that one burn is going to turn you off of relationships forever.”
She wasn’t completely wrong. I’d been glaringly and pathetically single since things with Jason had gone down the shitter.
The thought of putting myself back out there was physically exhausting.
Being in a relationship had been so much work, and I didn’t know if I was up for that.
I was exhausted. I had enough baggage as it was.
There was no room in my chaotic life for a plus one.
Especially right now. There hadn’t been a single man who caught my eye since our breakup.
Not even so much as a niggling of temptation. Well, not until a couple weeks ago.
I hated to admit it, but that disastrous night after the bar wasn’t the first time I’d googled the hell out of Weston Scott.
And it probably wouldn’t be the last. Of course, I hadn’t found shit about the man on the internet, but that hadn’t stopped me.
It had actually gotten to the point I worried the memory I had of the man in my head was exaggerated, that he wasn’t really as beautiful as I remembered.
But that couldn’t be true. Right? I mean, the man had enthralled me the very moment he came up beside me in that bar. I wasn’t imagining or exaggerating that. It wasn’t possible. Was it?
It was on that thought that Serenity came out of the kitchen and announced dinner was ready.
Like usual, family dinner was full of laughter and love.
For a short time once a week, we were together, able to forget all the turmoil swirling around us, or at least temporarily pretended everything was normal.
When I left for home a few hours later, I was still feeling that sense of calm, that false sense of relaxation I knew wouldn’t last, but I was determined to hold on to it for as long as I possibly could. It had been a good day, and I was thankful for that.
Unfortunately, that calm disappeared the moment I opened my front door and stepped into my shitty apartment.
Nothing was out of place, at least not that I noticed at first, but something just felt .
. . off. The Glade plug-in I used to cover up the moldy, musty smell I could never quite clean from the apartment was now being overrun by the what smelled like body odor and . . . was that Cheetos?
Damn it. That smell could only mean one thing. That skeevy, slimy blight on humanity that was my landlord had invaded my sanctuary. I scanned the room frantically, looking for signs that he’d been here. For a moment, everything looked exactly how I’d left it, then I saw it.
The dime store sailboat painting was tipped slightly off center. Most people wouldn’t have noticed, hell, I wouldn’t have either . . . if what lay behind it wasn’t so freaking important.
Leaving the front door wide open and dropping my purse and keys on the floor, I ran the few feet between the door and the wall.
Grabbing the chintzy frame in a grip so hard it was a wonder it didn’t crumble to dust beneath my palms, I ripped it from the wall.
What I saw didn’t just steal my breath, it deflated my lungs completely.
The picture fell from my hands and clattered to the floor, but I barely heard it over the blood rushing in my ears and the blaring whomp, whomp, whomp of my heart.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I turned woodenly toward the door, spotting my creepy, beady-eyed landlord.
He wore a tank that stretched over his humongous beer gut.
It should have been white but was covered with stains and tinged yellow, the same color as his grimy teeth.
His stomach hung over a loose pair of jeans that appeared just as dirty as the tank.
His eyes danced in the way they always did, making my stomach roil until I thought I might puke.
“You were in my apartment,” I accused, my words barely more than a whisper.
He smirked in a way that made my blood run cold. “That hole in the wall needed to be patched. You’re welcome, by the way.”
I looked back to where the hole had once been, the hole where I’d stashed the money I’d managed to collect over the past couple weeks.
$5,372. The pile of cash had been growing and growing, but still nowhere near what my family needed.
Between the five of us, we’d worked our asses off the past two weeks, hardly sleeping, and had each pulled in huge chunks of cash.
Especially thanks to Serenity and those photos she’d managed to get of that judge in a very precarious position.
He’d paid the blackmail without even blinking, and she already had another whale on the line.
I’d collected the least out of all of us, and now it was . . . gone. All of it. Gone. “What—” It was all I could manage to say before the words dried up and turned to dust on my tongue.
“But don’t worry, I made sure to clean it out before I closed it up,” he said with a raspy smoker’s chuckle.
That motherfucking weasel!
I was never going to see that money again, that was for damn sure. Unless, of course I was willing to do something gag-inducing to get it back—or at least part of it. Which I absolutely was not.
Stomping back over to the door, I grabbed the edge of it and threw it closed so fast the asshole had to stumble backward to keep from being smashed in the face by it. Then I twisted the deadbolt and added the chain for good measure.
I gave myself twenty minutes to have a good old-fashioned mental breakdown, sobbing until my eyes were swollen and my nose was so stuffy I couldn’t breathe out of it.
Once the time ran out on that, I snatched up my phone and shot a text to my sister, using the word our whole family had for emergencies.
FUBAR, I typed and hit send. With that one text, I was telling Serenity to get her ass to my place as fast as freaking possible. We needed a plan, and we needed it fast.