Chapter 37
Geneva
Franklin Willington III—incredibly, the lawyer’s absurd business card actually italicized ‘III’—with his dark suit and steel-rimmed spectacles, had been seated across the table from Rick for a few minutes already.
My uncle sat next to the attorney, his lips curved subtly, as if he knew something nobody else did.
As the soulless ghoul in a sharply pressed suit glanced over the twelve-page contract proposal before him, I squeezed Rick’s left hand under the table.
I didn’t know why he needed comfort at that moment, but I was as certain of it as I’d ever been of anything in my life.
Willington’s slender, almost skeletal finger hooked over the page, tapping it. “Just sign there, and initial where prompted. First page, and the second.” The lawyer slid the purchase agreement across the table.
Pen clasped between his fingers, Rick splayed his big hand across the page. “I sign this, and the deal stands?”
Chester nodded, his cool gaze switching to me for a moment, before sliding back to Rick. “Assuming all’s in order. Yes.”
“Okay,” Rick said, a dispirited, almost defeated note in his voice I’d never heard from him before.
Looking more closely at what wasn’t hidden by Rick’s hand on the pages, it started to become clearer to me. But I was still frustrated at not knowing what my uncle’s angle was. I held out a hand. “You’ve never talked about wanting this before…”
Chester stared out the window at the city. “I know I used to hire him to take care of… problems for me.” He stilled then, his eyes growing cold. “But the situation has changed.”
Rick stayed silent, not giving me any indication of what was happening.
I glanced at the lawyer, but Willington refused to even acknowledge me.
“Uncle Chester…?” I grasped Rick’s forearm on the table, noting the way my uncle scowled as I did it.
He finally met my eyes. “This is between us. It doesn’t concern you.”
Rick murmured to me in a way that was likely intended to be reassuring, but it only increased my dread. “It’s all right, Genie. It’ll be okay.”
Something terrible was about to happen—and it was going to happen to Rick.
“You don’t have to do this. He’s… he’s always done what you’ve asked. This… this isn’t right.”
My uncle’s deep baritone cut through the tension in the air. “You’re in no place to tell me anything. To demand anything. Not after what you’ve been… engaging in.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Oh, but you know.
Chester’s face contorted in rage as he snarled, “It’s out of your hands. You’ve caused me enough trouble already, it’s time to close this chapter and cut our losses. Which means you!”
I stared at him in shock, my fists clenching so tight the nails were digging hot pain into my palms. “How can you do this to your own family?”
There wasn’t an ounce of caring in his voice. “I didn’t take care of you out of love; I did it out of obligation. That obligation has been more than fulfilled. And what fucking gall you have making demands after going behind my back and fucking one of my associates! As if you had no idea that Rick was off-limits to you! You’re smarter than this, but rather than use your brain, your actions seem to be dictated by that dirty little cunt instead.”
Rick cut in, his voice cold fury. “If you say something like that again, Nantes, you’ll be saying it through a mouthful of broken teeth.” His jaw clenched. “Leave her out of this, or you’ll wish you had. Deal or not, you don’t talk to her like that. Not fucking ever.”
Chester’s composure returned quickly, my uncle flashing a wolfen smile. “Rick made his choice, and there are consequences for every choice in a man’s life.”
A hot, sick feeling settled deep in my stomach, and I sagged back into my chair. I was still reeling at the cruelty of my uncle’s words, that he never loved me, that raising me was only another job to him.
“What choice?” I asked him, glancing at Rick, then back to my uncle.
Chester’s eyes blinked, and he lifted his chin toward him. “You didn’t tell her? I gotta admit I didn’t see that coming, Trafford.”
I spun to face Rick, grabbing his arm, desperation tightening my throat. “Didn’t tell me what? What the fuck is going on here? What does he mean? Tell me.”
For the first time, there was real reproach and even displeasure in Rick’s eyes, his voice lowering an octave. “Sir.”
My mouth dropped open, my belly tightening. But I complied, almost on autopilot, that commanding tone something I’d long accepted I simply couldn’t resist—even if I wanted to. “Tell me, please… sir.”
Chester grunted, disgust clear in the tone.
Rick shook his head. “Let’s just get this done.”
“Oh, go on, tell her, Trafford! You’ve lost everything already. Maybe you’ll lose her too, in the end? My day would look even brighter, I must tell you.” The sadistic amusement in my uncle’s eyes made him look ugly, as if the reveal of his true motivations had shown me the creature he truly was all along.
The man I’d looked up to, had drawn comfort from. The one man, up until Rick, whom I’d thought was always in my corner.
It was all an illusion.
“Fuck you!” I yelled, leaning over the table at him.
Chester’s eyes danced in the face of my rage. “Stupid girl. This is the bed you’ve made. Now, you’re going to lie in it.”
Rick pulled me back. “Genie… Genie, that’s enough. Just sit tight. I don’t like this any more than you do, but I have to get this done.”
“Sign, please,” Willington intoned, his beady eyes switching between Rick and Chester, and back again.
Rick took up the pen, and with the tip just hovering over the line that would destroy his life… the door to the conference room swung open, a strange man strolling in.
He had a sharp pale slate suit and a rugged, handsome face. He carried a slim, stylish briefcase of chocolate leather, the man moving with a bearing that suggested he was used to getting what he wanted.
The stranger took a seat at Rick’s right, setting his briefcase on the floor between them.
“Who the fuck are you?” Chester said, sneering.
The man pulled a badge out of his pocket and laid it down on the table in front of Chester’s lawyer. “My name is Stanton Ellison. I work for the United States Department of Justice. Western division.”
The air in the room changed abruptly. Willington examined the credentials, but I knew it was only for show. They believed him. I believed him… though I had no idea what was going on.
“Did you know anything about this?” Rick asked me, his face pale.
“No way,” I whispered.
Cold dread settled deep in my belly.
Chester and his lawyer exchanged panicked glances, then my uncle pointed at the agent.
“I don’t know why you’re here, Stanton Ellison—” Chester spat the words out as one would a revolting piece of gristle, “—but this is a private meeting. Get the fuck out of here. Or do I need to have you removed?”
I shifted in my seat, my nerves suddenly making it almost impossible to sit still. The suited men standing against the wall straightened up, and Chester’s beady-eyed lawyer blinked in surprise.
Rick didn’t say a word, silently watching the newcomer with an unreadable expression.
“I don’t think you’ll be doing anything of the sort.” Ellison propped an elbow on the table, crooking a thumb toward the conference room door. “Outside there is a team of U.S. Marshals. So, you can tell your wallflower boys over there to stand down, unless they feel like doing a fresh twenty in the gray bar hotel.”
Chester gave his men a subtle shake of the head.
“That’s better. Now, that reminds me.” Ellison reached down for his case, opening it, dropping a thick manila folder on the table, several glossy photos spilling out. “You boys have been up to all sorts of things. Very busy.” Ellison sorted through the photos, showing Chester one. “Look familiar? Maybe you can tell me who that might be?”
Chester grimaced. “I think you know. I’m not doing a question and answer with you, Mr. Ellison. Not without counsel present, that is.”
Stanton raised a brow. “What about Mr. Willington?”
Chester’s lawyer replied in a tight voice, “Ah, I’m a real estate attorney…”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Ellison said in a mocking, almost singsong tone. “But I’ll answer it for you. That there is one Marko Salazzo. I believe you’re already familiar with him. Oh, he had plenty to say about you.” Stanton leveled a withering glare at Rick. “And you too, Mr. Trafford.”
“Never heard of him,” Chester muttered, his cheeks growing ruddy. “Is there a point to this, mister D-oh-fucking-Jay man?”
I squeezed Rick’s hand feverishly.
God, please tell me this isn’t happening!
“Oh, there’s much more, Mr. Nantes,” Ellison said, reaching inside the folder once again. “What do we have here? Payments to inspectors? A sewer district manager? Union bosses?” Stanton’s eyes went wide as he feigned shock, his words softening to almost a murmur. “Why, these look a lot like… bribes. Oh, wait, they don’t just look like them.” He held up several written documents, each annotated with myriad colored sticky notes. “They are bribes. These handy little sworn affidavits say so, anyway. I find that to be… quite interesting.”
Chester’s face was so red, he looked like it might explode at any moment. “You have shit.”
Stanton closed the folder, laying a palm gently down upon it. “I think a federal grand jury is going to have a different opinion.”
Chester’s nostrils flared. “Fine. We talk then. I’m prepared to make a statement.”
“Under oath?” Ellison asked, lifting a finger from the folder.
“Yes.”
Oh, no.
Rick leaned close, whispering in my ear, “Don’t say a fucking word. You got me? Not one.”
I gave him a quick nod, looking down, my mouth so dry it was like I’d swallowed a mouthful of desert sand.
Stanton stroked his chin. “Talk? Yes, that might work.”
“You’re not going to get anything better than what I have to tell you,” Chester said, adjusting the time on his gold watch as he glared meaningfully at Rick. “Trafford here is neck deep in some very serious shit. You’ll want to hear what I have to say. All of it.”
“You fucking liar!” I yelled, half out of my seat before Rick grabbed me by the shoulders. “Rick had nothing to?—”
He slammed me back down in my chair. “That’s enough,” Rick growled under his breath.
Stunned, I nonetheless had to bite my tongue to avoid blurting out still more. I hated Chester. Hated him with a cold fury I didn’t know I possessed.
Stanton’s lips quirked with what may have been bemusement at my outburst, but his focus remained fixed on someone else. “That may very well be. Oh, wait a minute.” Stanton opened his suitcoat, reaching into the inside pocket. He held up a paper, folded in half lengthwise. “I think I have something even better. A warrant for your arrest.”
The door to the conference room burst open, and in seconds the room was flooded with heavily armed U.S. Marshals, who set about disarming Chester’s guards in seconds.
“I most definitely want to hear everything you have to say, Mr. Nantes.” Stanton stood, setting his briefcase on the conference table. “But it’s going to be before a jury of your peers when I do.”
“You got jack shit on me, pig. You hear me? Nothing!”Spittle flew from Chester’s lips as he was led from the conference room in handcuffs. “I’ll sue your fucking ass into the ground for malicious prosecution!”
“See you at arraignment, Nantes.” Stanton gave him a mocking flourish with two fingers.
The door closed behind Chester as two burly marshals led him from the room.
Chester’s lawyer sprang to his feet, sweeping up the documents, even snatching his pen from Rick’s fingers. “I’m out of here,” he said with something approaching conviction. In truth, fear poured from the man like a flood tide.
“Not so fast, Willington,” Stanton said, stuffing his credentials back into his briefcase.
“I already told you. I just do real estate work for the man.” Willington’s craven gaze coursed over Rick and me for the briefest of moments. “I don’t have anything to do?—”
“No. I think you’ll be staying a while longer. Real estate flack you may be, but I have something for you that you will very much want to pass along to Mr. Nantes’ defense.” Stanton began to undo his necktie. “I guess you could say it’s an offer your client really can’t refuse.”