Chapter 5
Gabriel
“Is this all you have?” I toss the thin manila folder onto my desk. Papers spill out across the black leather ink blotter.
“It’s all there is.” My brother stretches out his back and yawns.
Combing through the papers, I shake my head. Ten years of foster care and fifteen foster families. A three-month stint in a juvenile facility for petty theft when she was sixteen. Enough time for the system to reboot and find her another family willing to take her in.
Both parents died in a car accident when she was only eight years old. She was in the back seat of the car and suffered a broken arm and bruised ribs. She was lucky to walk away from the crash, but not so lucky when it came to the rest of her childhood.
“Other than the juvie visit, no criminal record?”
“Nope, but I did a little digging, and she’s been on the forgery scene for a while. She’s best at new identifications, passports, that sort of thing.”
I pull out her wallet and phone from my desk drawer and quickly go through them again. Even the ultraviolet-sensitive state seal is damn near perfect.
Other than her email and text messages, there are no social media apps on her phone. I find the most information through her texts. There’re two contacts she seems to talk to regularly. A woman named Cassie and a Tony.
Whoever the fuck that guy is, she won’t be needing him anymore.
I click on their stream of messages and quickly read through them. There’s nothing to suggest there’s a romantic entanglement. At least on her end. Tony’s tried to schedule a dinner for several weeks in a row, but Savvy has turned him down at each turn.
“What are you going to do with your little scam artist now that you have her locked away?” Roman taunts.
And there’s the question that’s kept me from sleep all night. That and the unfulfilled need to sink my cock deep into her heat.
“She owes me.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “Does she? From the baseball thing? I thought you already took care of that guy?”
Like I told her, I don’t let scammers get away with stealing my money. The prick who got away with a hundred grand paid back the money with three fingers off his left hand and what was left of the cash that he hadn’t spent yet.
“You think I should just let her get away with trying to scam us?” I pick up the foster care file and sigh.
She’s had to fend for herself for so long, I’m not sure she knows anything different. My own father was a piece of work, kept everyone at arm’s length, but we had a home and a family to grow up with. She’s always been one bad decision away from living on the streets.
“I think you’ve never locked an enemy in the room next to yours before.” He cocks his head. “They’re usually dangling from a hook in the back of Jimmy’s deli.”
There are some in our line of work that would see her doing the same if they caught her. To them she’d be just another asshole trying to steal from them. They wouldn’t see the innocence lurking behind the mask of bravery.
They wouldn’t notice the tremor of fear in her lip at facing an adversary she can’t beat. Or the way she rubs her fingers together when she’s about to tell a lie. Or the little dimple in her left cheek when she smirks.
“But I see the appeal. She’s a good-looking girl.” My brother continues digging his own grave. “She might be a high earner at the Velvet Room. I think Jonny’s looking for a new waitress.”
“Tread carefully,” I warn, lifting my gaze to his.
“What? She’s just a scam artist, right? That’s why you have her locked away up there?” His brow raises, and he splays his hands out as though he’s some innocent boy asking a simple question.
“She won’t be working at the Velvet Room.
” She’s never going to see the inside of the place if I can help it.
Our cousin runs the high-end strip club.
The clientele is curated. Powerful men with money to burn, but just because they’re worth millions doesn’t mean they have a better sense of being a gentleman.
I’d be spending my days carving out the eyes of the fuckers that dared stare at her too long while ordering a drink. Not to mention all of the hands I’d be chopping off that dared take a chance at touching her.
“You’re looking a little irritated. Did I say something?” He feigns innocence with his devil’s smile.
“If you’d like to leave with your face still intact, you should stay away from talking about her,” I warn.
“Ah.” He chuckles. “So you have a thing for her.”
“I do not have a thing for her. I’m not in high school, Roman.”
“Well, then you won’t mind if I mention her to Jonny. I sort of owe him a girl.”
“You owe him a girl? What the fuck does that even mean?”
“I spent a few nights with one of his waitresses, and afterward she quit.”
I close my eyes, take in a deep breath. “What did you do to her?”
“Nothing.”
“Roman.”
He laughs. “Seriously. Nothing. We had a fun time. I left some cash for her to get home, and she took it the wrong way. Told Jonny she wasn’t anyone’s whore to pimp out and quit.”
“You spent a weekend fucking a woman and left cash on the table after. What way did you think she was going to take that?”
“Well, in hindsight, yeah, I get why she saw it that way.” He rubs his jaw. “I had a meeting and was late. I didn’t want to wake her up. Anyway, that’s why I mentioned your scam artist; there’s a spot opened up there.”
“She’s not working for Jonny.”
“Then what are you going to do with her?”
There’s the question that’s been flashing in neon all night.
“I’m not letting her go.” That isn’t an option. It just isn’t.
“There is another option.” Roman gets to his feet, stretching his back again. I’m beginning to wonder if he slept in a strange bed last night after leaving.
“Oh? What is it? And if you suggest another strip club or dance club, or anywhere she’ll be having men gawk and paw at her, you’ll be leaving with a few broken bones.”
He smirks. “So testy this morning. Didn’t you sleep well? Or were you up all night trying to listen for sounds through the walls?”
I should have beaten him more when we were growing up.
“What is the other option?”
“You said she’s good with IDs, right? Put her to work for us,” he says.
A knock on the door comes before I can give the idea any real thought.
Mrs. Neville enters, her hands wringing in front of her as she steps inside.
“What’s wrong?” Roman asks, instantly worried about her. She’s worked with our family since we were boys. She should be retiring but refuses. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, yes. I’m fine.” She waves him away. “I was taking a tray up to your…er…guest.”
My insides knot at all the possibilities of what could have happened. Was she so scared of what was to become of her that she hurt herself?
I leap from my chair. “What happened? Is she all right?”
Mrs. Neville blanches. “Well, that’s just it.” She pauses, like she’s not sure if she should tell me or not.
“Mrs. Neville, what happened?” Roman steps forward.
“She’s not there. The room was empty.”