Chapter 43 #2
So Sam was a way to get to Griffin’s boss? I’m not sure I buy it, though I can’t help the tiny flame of hope that there’s some small possibility Sam might not be the dirty politician everyone makes him out to be. “What were you doing for Lionel McCrae?”
Sam must see the suspicion on my face, because he shakes his head.
“It’s not what you think. It wasn’t illegal.
It was regular city business. It was good business.
McCrae had gone all in on this piece of property.
A huge building in midtown. It cost him millions.
He had this idea for a school for training troubled kids to get into his line of work.
Personal security. Pre-law enforcement training.
That kind of thing. I guess he had a daughter who worked with him who was killed—your husband must have known her, too.
It was something she’d talked about. He was doing it for her. ”
I swallow hard, my throat stinging as the pieces fall into place. Laura.
“McCrae needed city approvals. He said he came to me specifically because of something I’d said offhand at some press conference. Not about schools but…” Sam looks up. “The guy knew I was trying to be someone respectable.”
“Bit tough when you sleep your way through your thirties,” I say. “You were like a walking caricature of a Wall Street bro.”
Sam grimaces. “You don’t have to tell me about my mistakes, Sasha. I’m well aware. And I never treated the women I dated badly.”
“Except treating them like they were disposable.”
Sam says nothing, though his mangled jaw pulses. “I never said I was a good man then, Sasha,” he grits out.
“Keep going,” I tell him. I don’t have time to focus on his feelings. I wriggle my arms. Maybe I can at least loosen the ties.
“The point was, Lionel trusted me.”
He works his jaw. I can see his thinking: He trusted me, and I fucked it up. “He wasn’t public about the work he did. But those guys knew about it. He was a problem for them.” He pauses. “It got messy from there, Sash.”
I don’t move. I just meet Sam’s one functioning eye, waiting for him to continue.
“Creelman was clever. He had a woman pose as someone working for my office. Had my phone diverted—even sent calls through to my office that were supposed to go there. Until the next time Lionel called. I didn’t know they were watching me yet. I would have warned him.”
There’s a loud snap outside. We both turn to the door. I hold my breath, but no one comes.
“Lionel saw through the fake call right away. He told me to shred any record of us working together. Not to share any details about our meetings or who he was or where he worked. He told me when we first started working together how critical keeping his business confidential was. I had to sign an NDA.”
“Did you even know any details of his business?”
“I knew where his office was. We had it on record for the formal applications. It was listed as a numbered company, but I knew. I knew he had people working for him all over the world and that they’d saved thousands of people from harm by protecting people who spoke up against injustice.”
Sam looks away. “But once Lionel cut off contact, Creelman got in touch with me directly. Told me he knew I was working with this ‘white label firm’ and that I had to tell him where it was and share any information I had on them. He said if I didn’t…
that’s when he threatened my family, Sasha. That’s when he found out about you.”
I swallow. “Vincent told me he saw my picture in the paper on that date.”
“Yes. And it got personal then. He became obsessed with you. He wanted me to set you up. I told him to fuck off. He…he threatened my assistant to scare me.”
My skin prickles with the realization. “The harassment rumors—they weren’t true.”
He shakes his head.
Though I don’t want to feel it, vindication runs through me. I was right not to believe the rumors, even though everything said he’d done it.
Then I realize there’s more. “You came up with that story, didn’t you? It was the only way to get the heat off her, even though you knew it would make you look like shit.”
“My political career was over the minute Creelman walked into my life.” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it.
“It’s funny. I got rich on Wall Street because I wanted to see if I could do it on my own.
I was sick of people thinking I was some coddled trust-fund kid when Dad treated me like I only existed when I checked off the boxes he wanted.
But that didn’t make me feel any better.
So I got into politics. I thought I could make a difference.
It’s why I wanted to work with Lionel. To champion a project that would help people. But I fucked that up, too.”
Sam looks sideways. His normally perfectly coiffed hair falls across his face. Even though my brother’s deep into his forties, he looks suddenly like the boy I once knew. The hero.
“But I didn’t give a shit, not once he mixed you up in it.”
“What did he say would happen if you set me up on that date?”
“It wasn’t what he said would happen. It was what he said wouldn’t.” He looks up, meeting my eye.
My stomach drops. “He was going to kill you.”
“And take you. He said all he wanted was a single date to let you decide. He promised he wouldn’t do anything against your will. But if he didn’t get that date, he’d ‘incorporate you into his business’ without my assistance.”
Maybe that’s what he thought, but if Griffin hadn’t come to that restaurant…he would have taken me with him right then.
My mouth waters with the need to vomit.
But when I look at Sam, I can see his jaw clenched hard, even under the blood and swelling. His expression is dark with self-loathing. He doesn’t even care that Creelman would have killed him, too. He hates himself for what he did to me.
“Once he got his sights set on you,” he says, “I don’t think he even cared about the info Lionel’s company had on him. All he cared about was you.”
I remember the flash of Vincent’s teeth. The way he tried to set everything up like a date.
Then he laughs again. “There’s no silver lining to this. But if there was, I think his obsession is the reason he’s not here.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think his bosses knew he was putting their interests at risk.”
“So you think he’s…dead?”
“He hasn’t been seen in weeks.”
“So why’s his guy holding us hostage? What’s the money he’s talking about?”
“I think his guy is trying to save his ass. I think Creelman told him he’d pay him off if he stuck with him. It’s the only reason this asshole stayed with him.”
My mind spins with all this information. I know, theoretically, that Sam could be spinning all of this. That he really did steal money from gangsters and now he’s trying to cover it up. But what’s the point when a beast called Brick is going to kill us anyway?
“What’s Brick going to do if he can’t find the money?”
“You mean when he doesn’t find the money. I don’t have suitcases of cash lying around. I wasn’t staying at the motel I told him about. I just sent him on a wild goose chase to buy us time.”
“Where were you staying?”
“Only a few minutes from here. The Rolling Hills.”
I want to laugh. Or cry—I’m not sure which. “That’s Griffin’s family’s hotel,” I say, my voice breaking.
Griffin. Oh Griffin, what I wouldn’t do for you to burst in here in a firefighter’s turnout gear. My hero.
“My husband’s hotel,” I say, my voice wobbly with tears. “I love him. Did you know that? No, how could you? I haven’t even said it to him yet.”
I smile, tears on my cheeks. “I haven’t said it to myself.
But I love that man. I love his broody grumpiness.
I love the way he pays attention to everything and pretends he doesn’t.
I love his inner nerd and his workshop.” I choke out a sob.
“It was this guy who burned down Griffin’s cabin, wasn’t it? ”
“Was he inside?” Sam’s voice is choked.
I shake my head. “No, he’s…”
My mind flickers back to where it was a moment ago. The workshop.
I glance down at Sam’s ankles, leaning forward as far as my bound hands will allow. “Those are plastic ties,” I say, my skin tingling.
“What?”
“Around our legs. And our hands.” I laugh deliriously, my mind suddenly filled with something new.
Hope.
“Sam,” I say, my voice suddenly filled with tight urgency. “Can you get over here?”
“What?”
“On your chair! Can you come close, and…turn around so our hands line up?”
“I think—why?”
“Because I know a little party trick that might just save our lives. That and my ridiculous manicure.”
Then, from outside, there’s the distinct sound of gravel popping under tires.
Sam looks to the door. “He’s back.”
“Then we have to hurry.”