Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
“ I n my professional opinion, he doesn’t have much of a case.” Tanika Nowak leaned back in her chair, crossing long legs and clasping her manicured hands in her lap. With her impeccable makeup, cap of short, dark hair, and the ivory pantsuit that highlighted her warm brown skin, she was the picture of confidence, even without the diplomas from UVA and Harvard on her wall. “Even if precedent didn’t dictate that mothers overwhelmingly win custody battles, a judge is going to take circumstances into account. You’ve both been documented victims of identity theft and fraud of the exact same variety that Mr. Raynor went to prison for. Even if that original conviction was appealed, it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together. It’s not like the timing was subtle.”
“What about that whole innocent until proven guilty thing?” Cayla asked.
Tanika waved her hand. “Those are instructions given to juries in an effort to promote impartiality. Mr. Raynor isn’t on trial here. There’s no jury involved. And he was proven guilty on those counts. I can’t imagine any judge awarding him custody. Not without irrefutable evidence that y’all are unfit parents, which I feel certain doesn’t exist. A hard-working long-term single mother and a decorated war hero? The only possible angle I can think of that he might try to argue could be some kind of psychological issue on Mr. Steele’s part.”
Holt sat ramrod straight, unmoving in the chair beside her, as if he were on trial himself or testifying to his Army superiors. “Dr. Audrey Graham, the therapist in charge of my program, will be happy to testify as to the stability of my mental health.”
“Then they have nothing.”
“What about visitation?” he demanded.
Tanika angled her head, conceding the point. “That’s harder. His crimes weren’t violent, so it’s harder to make a case to keep her from him entirely. But we can certainly fight to limit it to supervised visitation. Since the FBI is still working on gathering evidence for the retrial, my inclination would be to use delay tactics to stretch out the process as long as possible before we go in front of a judge. The bottom line is, you aren’t in this alone, and you don’t have to worry about losing your daughter.”
Cayla relaxed the death grip she had on her hands. Her fingers tingled as blood rushed back into them. “How long are we talking?”
“Easily a few months. And if we need to, I can stretch it out up to a year, most likely. A veritable death by a thousand paper cuts, as it were.”
A year. The idea of being embroiled in this mess that much longer made Cayla physically ill. How many more people would Arthur drag down in the meantime because he wasn’t getting his way? And he wouldn’t be getting his way. Not now. Not ever. But that didn’t make living with the consequences any easier.
“There’s just one more thing.” Cayla renewed the strangled tangle of her fingers. “If we do this and it stretches on that long, there’s the matter of billing. How would that be handled? Given the current restraints of our situation because of the fraud investigation, that’s something of an issue.”
Tanika’s velvety brown eyes softened. “We’ll do it however you need to. Hell, we’ll ask for attorney’s fees because he’s brought a nuisance suit to waste everyone’s time.”
“Will that work?” Holt asked.
“I mean, stranger things have happened. But even if they say no, we’ll make whatever arrangements are necessary, whatever kind of payment plan you need, until they sort things out for you.”
Cayla struggled to keep her shoulders straight and maintain eye contact. “And if it’s years?”
“Then it’s years.” Tanika shrugged. “I’ll still win this battle for you. Trust me, honey, I’ve taken payment in the form of fresh eggs and turnip greens before. I’m not worried.”
Humbled by the other woman’s kindness and buoyed by her confidence, Cayla nodded. “Thank you. Then we’d appreciate it if you would take the case.”
They stayed a while longer, going over the particulars of what information Tanika needed to formulate their initial reply to the petition. When they left her office, it was nearing the end of the school day. As they hadn’t known how long they’d be in Johnson City, Donna was picking Maddie up and taking her back to the house. Cayla was grateful for the near hour’s drive to pull herself together. She felt brittle and bruised, and she was so very aware of the need to present a picture of normalcy for her child, even though it felt as if her world was falling apart.
She didn’t know how to do that with the man sitting next to her in the driver’s seat. Holt kept his eyes fixed on the road, his jaw set. He’d been entirely shut down, back to the distant, taciturn soldier she’d seen when he first arrived. But he’d never been that way with her before.
She’d hurt him yesterday. For all the things unspoken between them, she knew that beyond the shadow of a doubt. In her despair, she’d essentially thrown everything he’d done for her and Maddie back in his face as worthless. It wasn’t worthless. Despite the inherent stress of their circumstances, the past several weeks with him had been so much more than she could’ve hoped. She’d truly believed that they were building something real and lasting.
Now it felt as if the man she’d come to love was a stranger.
She’d been the one to do the hurting, so she was the one who had to make amends. Not knowing how to broach the topic, she glanced in his direction. “I’m sorry about last night.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw, but he said nothing.
Cayla gripped her fingers again. “I overreacted in the moment. I was upset and felt cornered. And I… I’m just so sick to death of empty assurances everything’s going to be okay. Because right now, I don’t see how. It feels like nothing can be done to stop him, and that terrifies me. Knowing the full scope of what he can bring down on the people I love, what he has brought down—I don’t know how to live with the burden of knowing I’m the reason he’s targeted everyone.”
The tightening of his hands on the wheel was the only sign he was listening.
“But I’m going to have to learn how to live with it. Because there’s no reality where I’d sacrifice Maddie. Not even if he burns the world.”
Holt’s exhale was slow and controlled, a clear releasing of tension. “Good.”
That single word was his only response. He didn’t even look at her.
God, did he really believe she was capable of doing that? Had he truly been worried she’d go that far?
Heart breaking, Cayla suffered his silence the rest of the drive back to Eden’s Ridge, wondering if she’d destroyed her marriage with her lack of faith. Then again, was it a real marriage at all if it could be so easily broken? She’d come up with no answers by the time he pulled into the driveway at the house.
He parked outside the garage and finally deigned to look at her. “I’m gonna drop you off. I need to catch up on some work at the bakery.”
There was nothing of the warmth she’d come to expect in his vivid blue eyes. No hint of forgiveness. But maybe he needed more time to process on his own.
“All right. Do you think you’ll be home for dinner?”
“I’ll probably be working late.”
Eyes burning, Cayla just nodded and slipped out of the SUV.
Without another word, he drove away.
In the bakery kitchen, Holt kneaded fondant, working in the blue food coloring with hard, almost violent strokes. He’d have felt better with a gun or knife in his hands, but this fight with Arthur Raynor wasn’t the kind he’d been trained for. To end this, he had to play a different sort of game. One that went against most of his better instincts. But the plan was solid, all the pieces in place, with multiple fail-safes. He refused to believe that Raynor was smarter than the team he’d put together to do this.
He just had to get through tonight. Then he could go home and make up with his wife. The drive back from Johnson City had been awful. Everything in him had wanted to comfort Cayla. To pull the 4-Runner over, drag her into his arms, and erase the distance between them. But just in case Raynor was watching them, it needed to look like they were rocky. Everything hinged on that.
Holt checked the clock. Nearing nine. Almost showtime.
The air in the kitchen was stuffy, so he propped open the back door to let in some of the cool night breeze. Music played over the Bluetooth speaker. No show tunes or Disney tonight. The driving rock kept his blood up, ready for action, though it was highly unlikely Raynor would give him a reasonable opportunity to use his fists. More was the pity. He’d relish the chance to take the guy on in an honest, man-to-man brawl. A guy like that wouldn’t last a minute. He had soft hands. The kind that probably didn’t even know how to make a real fist. No, Raynor preferred to take on unsuspecting victims. Innocents. All so he could maintain his attitude of total superiority. Holt had to remember that and cater to it.
If the asshole actually showed.
God, he hoped he was doing the right thing.
The front door opened right at nine. The guy was prompt.
Holt continued working the fondant as Raynor glanced around the front, taking it in as if he’d never seen it before. His expression said he wasn’t impressed. That wasn’t Holt’s concern.
“Come on back.” He jerked his head toward the swinging door.
Arthur pushed through. He wore dress pants and a button-down shirt that fit him so impeccably that they had to be tailored. His brown dress shoes were polished to a gleam and squeaked with every step. He stopped just inside the kitchen, his gold eyes scanning the room with clear contempt.
“Thank you for coming.”
“I have to admit, I was surprised to hear from you.”
I’ll bet you were.
As the fondant was now a consistent robin’s egg blue, Holt folded it in plastic wrap and stripped off his gloves before putting it in the cooler. He let the door fall shut with a thump. “Yeah, well, you haven’t left me a lot of choice. So I figured we’d handle this man-to-man.”
A glint of intrigue lit Raynor’s otherwise bland expression. “I’m listening.” He pulled something out of his pocket. A coin of some kind. He began to walk it from knuckle to knuckle on his left hand.
Needing to keep moving, Holt wiped down his workstation. “I’m ceding the field.”
One blond brow arched up. “I beg your pardon?”
“I’m pulling out of this whole situation. I’ve seen what you can do. You’ve cut me and my business partners off at the damned knees.”
The other man’s lips twitched. “It appears someone else got there first.”
Holt didn’t allow himself to react to the jab. A guy like this would absolutely see him as less, as broken. Now wasn’t the time to prove him wrong. He had to play exactly as Raynor saw him. So thinking, he limped a little as he moved around the table, wiping away debris.
“Cayla was yours first. The kid’s yours. They’re not worth losing my future, my business. And I can’t afford for you to decide to go after my sister. God knows Hadley’s just gotten on her feet. I’m not gonna be the reason she fails. And I can’t risk you going after my surrogate mother or anybody else I care about. They were in my life first. They’ll be in my life last. I’m not losing everything over a woman or a brat that’s not mine. So I’m letting you know I’m out. You’ve won.”
Raynor’s lips curved, the unholy light of victory brightening his face. “And why did you bring me out here for that?”
“Because I knew you’d want to look into my face as I had to admit I wish I’d never gotten involved with them in the first place.” And Holt let the frustration and irritation at that show. For all the man thought him less, he’d understand that such an admission would be a blow to Holt’s pride. “And because I want to make a deal.”
“A deal?” Faint surprise crept into that upper crust voice. “You don’t seem to be in a position to negotiate. What do you have that I want?”
Throughout the conversation, Holt had hoped Raynor would say something that qualified as an admission of guilt. But as he’d expected, the guy was too careful for that. So he braced himself to pull the metaphorical trigger and do the thing he’d come here to do. “I’m in your way. As long as Cayla thinks she has me, she’ll hold out against you. But if that’s taken away? She folds. She’s already so damned close.”
Arthur hummed a noncommittal note. “So you’re suggesting that you will get out of my way in exchange for…?”
“Money. Ten grand. It’s not a lot in the grand scheme of things. Certainly to a guy like you. But it’s enough to save my business. Transfer it to me tonight, and I’ll make it easy on you and file for divorce tomorrow.”
The hissed breath came from behind him, and Holt knew even before he heard her voice.
“How could you?”
Fuck.
He turned, catching one glimpse of Cayla’s ashen, horrified face in the open doorway before she backed away and ran. Her steps echoed on the wood planks of the wrap-around porch.
Everything in him wanted to race after her. But if he did, all this would probably be for nothing. He had to stick to the plan.
With a sigh, he turned back to face Raynor, who appeared infinitely amused by the proceedings.
“That changes nothing,” Holt began.
The other man laughed. “Oh, you are delusional. I don’t need you to do anything. She’ll do it on her own. But I do thank you for the show.” He turned to go.
“Wait!”
With a bored air, he looked back. “What?”
“Forget the money. Can I at least have your assurance you won’t touch anybody else connected to me? You got what you want. Me out of the way. There’s no reason for you to target them.”
Raynor merely huffed another laugh and walked out.
Holt forced himself to wait until the front door had closed. He shut off the speaker and listened for the sound of a car engine driving away. The moment Raynor was gone, he was dialing Cayla’s number.
Of course, she didn’t answer.
He let out a stream of curses until the voicemail kicked on. “Cayla, honey, it’s not what you think. I swear, it’s not. Just give me a chance to explain.”
The moment he hung up, he sent her a text to the same effect.
But no reply was forthcoming. Hell, she was probably still driving. But to where? Not home. He could only assume that Donna, or possibly Mia, was at the house with Maddie. She wouldn’t take this upset to where her daughter would see.
Think, think, think.
Where the hell would she go? Panic bubbled just beneath the surface as he reviewed the options and came up with nothing.
Locking the doors, he quickly set the alarm and dove into his 4-Runner, intent on tracking down his wife before she did something neither of them could take back.