Chapter 23 Tallus #2
“I followed his career the best I could, but there are weird financial gaps. I can’t sort out the jump from middle-class to multi-millionaire.
The idea that he got rich through a strategic real estate investment sounds feasible in theory, until I dove deeper and discovered there isn’t anything that stands out.
The guy has done umpteen interviews and talks about having perceptive foresight and visions that turn profits, but…
he doesn’t. He’s fake. Contractors hate him.
He’s been taken to court numerous times, and I can’t pinpoint where his wealth began.
One day, Joe Average suddenly purchased a whopping property he should never have been able to afford.
Yes, that property turned him a huge profit, and it all rolled from there, but how did he get the money for it in the first place? ”
“Bank loan?”
“It’s possible. He filed for bankruptcy in ninety-five, but it would have been wiped after ten years max and wouldn’t have shown on his credit check, but his income wouldn’t have qualified him for such a steep loan.”
“Inheritance?”
“I thought of that too. His parents are alive. His deceased grandparents all passed decades ago. No rich uncle that I can find.”
“Maybe he’s good at saving money.”
“Not that much.”
“Rich wife?”
“He was married for eight months in ninety-nine. I can’t find evidence of a long-term relationship before he got stinking rich.
Now he displays a rotating harem of girls on his arm for photos, but I’m hard-pressed to call it dating.
They’re half his age and bear a striking resemblance to Barbie, and they seem to come and go with the tide. ”
Diem spun his water glass, looking thoughtful and sexy with his sweat-dampened hair sticking to his forehead. “What are you suggesting?”
“We know he took thirty thousand dollars from Ellwood’s account, right?”
“Supposedly.”
“You suggested Lukyan might have several kids helping him run similar scams on other seniors. Let’s pretend there are ten Darcys.
Multiply Ellwood’s thirty thousand by ten, and you have three hundred thousand dollars.
That’s one job that took three weeks. Darcy claims Elwood was his first and used as training, so the timeframe was longer.
He’s done four jobs since December. Each of those jobs was a single contact thing.
Do the math, D. If Lukyan’s been at this for years and has even a handful of kids like Darcy working for him, he’s raking in millions. ”
Diem’s gaze flitted back and forth as his inner wheels spun. “Then he uses the money to invest in properties, turns those properties into more money, and shows legitimate income on his tax return that supports his lifestyle. No one suspects a thing.”
“Exactly, and I suspect he’s worth way more than two hundred million.”
“That’s a lot of speculation.”
“Maybe, but if I’m right…”
Diem nodded and pushed the sweaty strands from his forehead. “I need to think about this.”
“We need to find proof.” But the only way I could think of to accomplish that task was to cross those legal lines we weren’t supposed to cross, and I wasn’t ready to suggest that quite yet.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“As it stands, we can’t report Luke unless we report Darcy.”
“I’m not doing that.” Diem’s tone brooked no argument.
“I know, so we need to dive deeper into this guy. Find proof his empire was built on a scam.”
“Surveillance first.”
That would usually excite me, but this time, I wanted to take action. “What time is your meeting?”
Diem cut his gaze to his phone, a stitch appearing between his brows. “Nine. I can bow out, and—”
“No.” I checked the time on the microwave. Seven thirty. “We’ll wait for you.”
Diem leveled me with a mistrustful glare. “Don’t get your ass in trouble.”
“Never.”
“Tallus.” A warning.
I smirked, coy and mischievous.
“Tallus.” He harshened his tone.
“Go shower, Guns. I’ll make your carton of eggs and side of pig.”
The demon arose with the scent of food. He padded blearily into the kitchen, nose wrinkled as he peered over my shoulder into the frying pan. “I don’t like eggs.”
“Well, they’re not for you.”
“But I’m hungry.”
“Then find food. I’m not your maid.”
He clutched my old prescription bottle with his good hand as he shuffled to the fridge and stood with the door open for several long minutes, peering inside.
I heard my mother’s voice from ten years ago, yelling about hydro bills and shut the fridge door already.
I yearned to tell him the same but was loath to admit I was now the grown adult.
Plus, there was something unsettling in echoing my mother’s admonishments.
“There’s no milk,” Darcy announced.
“Oh, I’m aware. You drank it all yesterday.”
“Shoulda bought more.”
“Well, some of us worked all day yesterday, then spent the evening sorting out your shit before landing at the emergency room. I’m terribly sorry, Your Highness, but you’ll need to find something else to drink.”
“I wanted cereal.”
“Me too, buddy, but I guess that’s not an option, is it?”
He slammed the fridge door, the condiments rattling within, and had the audacity to give me a dirty look. “Where’s Diem?”
“In the shower.” And because I was a jerk, I added, “Probably jacking off because I couldn’t suck his dick with you sleeping on the couch, and he likes sex when he gets home from the gym.”
Darcy’s face contorted, and he looked like he had a hundred venomous things to say.
Before his sleepy brain caught up with him and he spewed something hateful, I added, “Swallow whatever is on the tip of your tongue, or I’ll kick your ass, which might be embarrassing for you. You know, since I’m gay.”
I adjusted the heat under the eggs. “Also, Diem’s going to a meeting this morning, so you get to hang out with me for an hour, and for the first time in the history of ever, I’m the less tolerant of the two of us, and I’m not in the mood to share space with a punk ass kid, so stop being a brat.”
Darcy collapsed at the table and stared sulkily at the pill bottle. Did he find a glass of water and take a pill? No.
I transferred Diem’s eggs to a plate, lining them up beside a mountain of peameal bacon. I jammed the button down on the toaster and found butter and an avocado in the fridge.
Still, Darcy stared forlornly at the pill bottle.
The toast popped.
He whimpered and hugged his arm.
I mashed avocado.
He sighed heavily.
I stared at him.
He stared petulantly at the pills in the orange bottle, his bottom lip protruding.
“Good grief.” I found a glass in the cupboard, filled it with water, and slammed it down in front of him. Instead of letting him take my pills, I removed the bottle from his hand and slid the white paper bag containing his prescription toward him. “Diem filled your script. Take one and shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to. Your face is hurting my ears.”
Darcy scowled as he dramatically tore into the paper bag, unearthed a new orange pill bottle, and shook two white tablets into his palm. I suspected he was only supposed to take one, but I didn’t have the energy to go another round.
Diem arrived freshly showered, surveyed Darcy’s slumped posture at the table before meeting me at the counter as I buttered his toast.
“Are you hungry, Darcy?” he asked.
“He’s not,” I said at the same time Darcy announced, “I hate eggs.”
“Have cereal,” Diem suggested.
“There’s no milk.” I handed Diem his breakfast, doing all I could to communicate my resentment.
The corner of Diem’s lip twitched. He remained in a locked gaze with me but spoke to Darcy. “How about toast and peanut butter?”
“Okay.”
“You did not just give away my peanut butter.”
“There’s a full jar. Problem solved.” Diem closed the gap and pecked a kiss on my lips.
“It’s never solved. He is an endless well of complaints.”
Another kiss. I was losing the argument. “Thank you for cooking.”
“Yeah, yeah. For you, anything.” The next kiss lasted longer, and I savored Diem’s minty freshness.
Darcy groaned and covered his eyes with a hand. “It never fucking stops.”
I broke free from Diem’s mouth, humming in satisfaction. “I think we should have sex right here on the kitchen counter. I want your monster dick in my ass.”
“I’m not listening,” Darcy announced.
“Good. I’m a moaner.”
Diem chuckled, took his breakfast to the table, and sat across from Darcy.
Diem ate with a hunger born from a hard workout, and I made peanut butter toast—for myself—and sat to enjoy it, earning a dejected look from Darcy.
“What? If you want toast, make your own.” Then I suffered a weak moment and stuck out my tongue.
Darcy opened his mouth as though about to protest or have an opinion, but one look from Diem and he swallowed it. Ducking his chin, he got up and made his own goddamn breakfast.