Chapter 48 Leah
Leah
Leah trusted Florence’s taste and knowledge of what might pass for sophisticated elegance way more than she did her own.
She wanted to look like someone completely different for a night.
Someone who would be comfortable in the smart surroundings, and confident in a room full of strangers.
She wanted to do Esther proud and knock Jackson’s socks off while she did it.
Florence arrived within the hour, clutching an armful of evening dresses she’d raided from the closets of two friends closest in size and shape to Leah.
Fortunately, both girls proved to have exquisite taste.
The dress they finally settled on was made from a black, whisper-weight material which hugged Leah’s curves and yet let her breathe.
Designed with an eye-catching mermaid hem and a daring cutout detail beneath halter-neck spaghetti straps, it was a floor-length miracle of a dress; it did everything she wanted and more.
And what the dress didn’t do on its own, Florence did to her hair. With sleight of hand and a ridiculous number of pins, Leah’s wayward curls were teased into the most elegant of updos, just messy enough to add a little edge to her flawless appearance.
“Don’t fiddle with it and it’ll hold,” Florence instructed, batting away Leah’s hand when it crept up to play nervously with a loose strand by one ear. She only hoped she’d remember to follow the instruction.
Her visit to the police station with Hazel had gone well. In just a handful of hours, Chief Martinez had pulled together a surprising amount of information. He was ruthless efficiency and tongue-tying hotness rolled up in a single package.
“I’ve spoken with my colleagues in the Oak Brook area.
Interestingly, they were already familiar with Landon Peake and his modus operandi,” he’d informed them, referring to a notepad on his desk.
“Jackson Hale says he has no problem with me sharing information on this case with you. As I told him, the type of illegal lending and hiked interest rates he describes are against the Regulatory Loan Act of 1939. In reality, Peake has no license to lend. He’s a shrewd opportunist with family money and he operates on his own, relying on shame and embarrassment keeping his victims quiet.
His threats about his contacts in the city—Mr. Big, if you like—are empty ones, although it seems he’s not averse to using the services of hired muscle to enforce repayment through violence.
” A micro-smile lifted one corner of his serious mouth.
“Fortunately for you, you got Repo and Little Jimmy instead. And it turns out these two heavies are actually Roger and James, Landon Peake’s brother-in-law and nephew respectively.
They may have spraypainted one of the security cameras but they missed the one your landlord was smart enough to place in a less obvious position.
We have stills of their faces clear enough to be unmistakable.
They could do with brushing up on their bully-boy credentials. ”
“I could have told you that,” Leah muttered in disgust.
“Still no reason to have taken them on by yourself.” Roman Martinez paused to give her another hard look.
Leah squirmed. “I’ll admit I didn’t really think it through in advance.”
“No harm, no foul,” Hazel chipped in cheerily. “I dialed it in as soon as my outside light woke me.”
“The Fire Investigation Team will be documenting evidence over the next day or so. I told Mr. Hale I’d let him know once the clean-up can commence.” Martinez leaned back in his chair. “And I’ll be talking with his father as soon as possible.”
“They’re hosting a fundraising event tonight but I’m sure he’ll get back to you.” Leah checked out the clock on the wall.
The chief’s lips twitched very slightly.
He rose to his feet, the movement smooth and fluid.
“Yes, the silent auction. It seems that a mysterious third party has finagled a last-minute ticket for Landon Peake so that he can attend. I should be able to arrange for Mr. Peake to suffer the same kind of social embarrassment he threatened to bring on the Hales.”
“You devil.” Hazel chuckled in admiration.
Dougie Taggart stepped forward. “And I’ll make sure I let you know in advance if I ever plan a social call. You’re both too dangerous to take by surprise.”
“We welcome visitors with open arms as long as they aren’t lugging a jerry can of gasoline.” Hazel was in her element, utterly invigorated by the drama of the last twelve hours.
If only Leah could harness the same feeling, now she was all dressed up and her ride to the silent auction had arrived.
Trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach and ignore the throbbing of her bruised knees, she carefully navigated the charred hole in the front steps while Sam and Kash climbed out of the car to take in the damage to the porch.
“Dammit, Leah—I don’t know what to say first!” Sam’s gaze bounced comically from the wreckage to her dress and back again. “I want to ask about this”—he waved a distracted hand in the air—“but I can’t concentrate with you looking all sultry, classy, and dangerous!”
“Beautiful,” agreed Kash.
Their compliments soothed some of the turmoil inside her, and she recounted the events of the night before as they drove.
“What the hell, Leah—are you mad? Confronting them was lunacy!” Sam twisted in his seat to throw her a look filled with concern, his face unusually serious.
“He’s right.” Kash caught her eye in the mirror. “The risk wasn’t worth it.”
Leah played with the strap of the purse on her lap. “I know that now. I’d have yelled at me not to do it in a movie.”
The boys told her Jackson had sold his condo; she couldn’t believe it. Leah wondered if he’d still need to complete the sale if Landon Peake was arrested, and where he’d end up living if he did. The thought of never seeing him again was unbearable. She couldn’t let that happen.
The Chicago Architecture Center was the perfect venue for something a little alternative.
Her ticket was waiting, as promised, and they entered through the lobby of the 1970s building to find a decorative table of arrival drinks laid out before them.
The formal setting was intimidating. Leah was grateful to be flanked on both sides by Sam and Kash as they climbed the stairs together, glasses in hand, to the Drake Skyscraper Gallery on the second floor.
The space was vast, with huge supporting pillars splitting the room.
Guests stood chatting between supersized model buildings of skyscrapers from around the world.
Waitstaff with trays of canapés glided from group to group.
Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased stunning views of the Chicago River and the iconic real-life structures beyond.
Jackson tracked them down while Leah gazed up at a replica of the Willis Tower.
The boys greeted each other with handshakes and it gave her enough time to catch her breath.
If she’d ever been naive enough to think all men might look the same in a tux, she was put straight at this moment.
When Leah ran hungry eyes over Jax, her brain glitched.
Black three-piece, white shirt, black tie.
Jackson’s look was devilish rake, billionaire business mogul, and sinister shadow thief all rolled into one.
Her stomach swooped; she almost swooned like a fangirl.
This thing that he did to her—ever since she first saw him at the funeral—was never going to end.
No matter how mismatched they were or how many times he knocked her back.
There was something elemental in the attraction he held for her.
He was it. As inevitable as sunshine, storms, death, and dirt. Loving Jackson was beyond her control.
While Leah fought to keep her thoughts from being written in caps lock across her face, Jackson seemed to have no such battle on his hands. He swept serious eyes over her from head to toe, taking less than a second to study the work she and Florence had so laboriously put into her appearance.
“Leah.” He nodded once, fingers tight around the stem of a half-filled glass. No acknowledgment of the night before. No reaction.
His dismissal hurt right through to the marrow of her bones, and Leah’s fist ached with the desire to hammer the inconsistency right out of him.
She was so far out of her comfort zone, it wasn’t funny.
A small part of her had enjoyed the dressing up, but now she was here she’d have given anything to be curled up on the sofa at home in her comfiest clothes.
Why had she ever thought he might need her here?
“We saw the damage at the house,” said Kash. “Leah told us what happened.”
“And we’ve given her hell for weighing in.” Sam elbowed her, less than gently.
“I did the same.” The muscle in Jackson’s jaw flexed.
Leah rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I get it, OK? It was stupid. Everyone else knows better. Silly me for trying to stop your house getting burned down.”
“Believe it or not, the house was the least of my concerns.” Jackson’s voice cut through the hum of polite conversation and tinkle of glassware around them. His eyes raked Leah’s face, pinning her like a “Save the Date” to a corkboard.
It was a relief when Natalia slid into the group, shimmering in a deep purple jumpsuit, her elfin face softened by a smile. “Good to see you all. I didn’t know you were coming, Leah.” She raised a well-shaped eyebrow. “Looking like a queen, too.”
“Thank you! It’s such a thrill to be here.” Leah kissed her on the cheek, grateful for the distraction. “This place is amazing.”
“Good evening, everyone.” And enter the villain.