Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
KARINA
The community center is sparkling clean.
All our supplies have arrived, ready for tomorrow, including a delivery of heart-shaped balloons and a banner that reads ‘Hugs for Hearts’ in cheerful script. A volunteer bustles around, unboxing pamphlets about mental health resources.
I built this.
For the first time in my life, I'm not the family screwup. I'm the woman who turned a room full of skeptical bikers into enthusiastic volunteers and charmed vendors into donating supplies. And tomorrow I’ll pull off a charity event that might actually make a difference.
Plus, I have a man who looks at me like I'm the only thing in the room worth seeing. A wonderful, gorgeous man who cooked me dinner and made love to me and held me afterwards.
Life is sweet.
“Karina?”
I turn at the sound of my name. Ty is walking toward me, and something about his expression makes my stomach knot. He’s pale beneath his usual tan, his eyes darting around the room, plus his khakis are wrinkled, which never happens. Ty is always perfectly pressed and polished.
I set down my clipboard. “Everything okay?”
“Everything's fine.” He runs a hand through his hair, messing up the neat comb-over. “Can we talk? Somewhere private?”
The knot in my stomach tightens. “Sure.”
I lead him to a storage room off the main hall. It's full of extra supplies: tablecloths, stickers, and the boxes of heart-shaped stress balls we're giving away as swag. Ty closes the door behind us.
“What's going on?” I ask.
He won't meet my eyes. “There’s been a complication with some of the donations.”
“What kind of complication?”
“Accounting stuff… a security breach. Boring backend things.” He waves a hand, but the gesture is jerky, nervous.
I nod. “Okay.”
“It's nothing to worry about.” He finally looks at me, and his smile is too wide, too bright. “Just some technical issues. I'll handle it. You focus on the event.”
“Ty, if there's a problem with the finances, I should know about it.”
“There's no problem.” His voice sharpens. “I said I'll handle it, Karina. That's what I do. I handle the backend so you can do your job.”
I stare at him. In three months of working together, Ty has never snapped at me. He's always been patient and encouraging.
“Okay,” I say slowly. “If you're sure.”
“I am.” He pats my shoulder, but the touch feels wrong. Clammy. “You've done amazing work here. Really. I'm proud of you.”
I stand in the storage room and try to shake the dread settling into my bones.
It takes me twenty minutes to convince myself to snoop.
Ty's been working on his laptop at a table at the back of the hall. He gets a phone call and goes outside. He’s pacing the parking lot with his hand pressed to his forehead.
I shouldn't look. It's a violation of trust. Ty gave me a chance when no one else would. But the one-way flight I saw on his screen yesterday? And the financial problems he mentioned? It’s fishy. I glance around. No one's watching. I slide into his chair and tap the trackpad.
His email is open. I scan the subject lines, not sure what I'm looking for.
Then I see it.
RE: Wire Transfer Confirmation — $60,000
My stomach drops. I click the email.
It's from a bank I don't recognize, confirming a transfer from our business account to an account in the Cayman Islands in the name of Chet Morgan. Sixty thousand dollars. Dated two days ago.
I scroll down. There's a chain of emails beneath it. More transfers. Different amounts. Ten thousand here, fifteen thousand there. All going to the same offshore account, all for different charities.
I open the flight confirmation email. It’s in the name of Chet Morgan. Everything starts to click into place, and I stumble out of the chair and make it to the bathroom before I cry, or throw up, or both.
Ty is a con artist. Hearts United is a scam. And I'm the idiot who's been helping him steal from people who thought they were doing something good.
I press my forehead to the cool tile and try to breathe. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out with numb fingers.
Clay: How's the setup going?
I stare at the message. Clay will know what to do… he’ll help me fix this.
But first, I need to talk to someone who won't look at me and be disappointed I’m such a fool. I need to fall apart first.
I call Tania.
She picks up on the second ring. “Hey! How's my favorite—”
“My boss is a con artist.” The words tumble out. “The charity is fake. He's been stealing donations and I didn't know and I helped him and oh my God, Tania, I'm going to jail.”
“Whoa, hey Karina, slow down!” Her voice shifts from cheerful to serious. “Start from the beginning.”
I tell her everything. The weird conversation with Ty. The emails and the donations. The flight. The offshore accounts. By the end, I'm crying so hard I can barely speak.
“Breathe, honey,” Tania says when I finish. “First of all, you're not going to jail. You didn't do anything wrong.”
“I’m running the event and my name is on everything. I'm the face of this scam.”
“You're the victim of this scam. There's a difference.”
I wipe my nose with toilet paper and sniff. “God, Tania. I'm such an idiot. Everyone warned me. My mom said I trust too easily. Maria said the job sounded too good to be true. And I just... I wanted so badly to be good at something.”
“You are good at a lot of things. Some asshole taking advantage of your kindness doesn't change that.”
“It sure feels like it does.”
Her voice is soft. “I know. But you're not alone, okay? Have you told your hot biker yet? Isn’t Clay the president of the motorcycle club?”
Clay. My chest aches at his name.
“Not yet.”
“Ask him. He's got resources, right? His club does security stuff. Maybe they can help figure out how to nail this Ty guy.”
She's right. Clay will know what to do.
“Okay,” I say. “I'll go find him.”
“Call me later. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I hang up and splash water on my face. My reflection looks terrible; I’m all red eyes, blotchy skin and black mascara smeared down my cheeks. I clean up as best I can. When I get back outside, Ty’s laptop is gone and the volunteer tells me he had to go to a meeting.
I text him with shaking fingers, telling him to call me.
The Ridge Renegades clubhouse is a converted warehouse outside Ember Heart Ridge. I have the address because Clay gave it to me so I could send a box of event flyers for the club to distribute.
I park and walk straight in. The main room is mostly empty. There’s a pool table, a bar and worn leather couches dotted around the room. A young guy looks up from behind the bar.
“Help you?”
“I'm looking for Clay.”
“Prez is in church.” He nods toward a closed door at the back. “Can't interrupt.”
“It's important.”
“Church is important. You can wait.”
I sit on one of the couches, my leg bouncing and stomach churning. Muffled voices drift through the door. I can't make out words, just tones. Clay's deep rumble and other voices I don't recognize.
Then I hear my name.
I stand up. The prospect opens his mouth to stop me, but I'm already moving toward the door.
“—Karina doesn't know anything.” That's Clay. “She's clean.”
“You sure about that, Prez?” Another voice. “She's been working with Morgan for three months.”
“She's a victim, not an accomplice. Chet Morgan targeted her specifically because she's trusting. Because she's kind.”
A pause. Then a third voice: “How long have we known about Morgan?”
“Five days.” Clay's voice is flat. “Since she walked into that meeting room and I saw his picture.”
I go cold all over.
He’s known for nearly a week that my boss is a criminal. While I carried on working with Ty, trusting him. And getting together with Clay, I trusted him too. It’s all been a lie.
I push open the door.
The room goes silent as the bikers stare at me from around a long wooden table. Clay is at the head, and when he sees me, a muscle leaps in his jaw.
“Karina—”
My voice comes out strangled. “You've known for five days?”
Clay stands slowly, hands raised like I'm something fragile. “Let me explain.”
“Explain what? That you've been lying to me since the moment we met?” I'm shaking. My whole body is shaking. “You knew my boss was a con artist and the charity was fake. And you let me keep working for him, looking like a fool… was I the only one that didn’t know?”
“I was protecting you—”
I laugh, but there's no humor in it. “You slept with me! You knew everything, and you didn't say a word.”
His jaw tightens. “I was gathering evidence. If I told you too soon, you would have confronted him. He would have run.”
“So you made the decision for me. You decided I couldn't handle the truth.” Tears spill down my cheeks. “Everyone thinks I'm a screwup, Clay. My family, my boss, everyone. And you just proved them right. I was so stupid—”
He steps toward me. “You're not stupid. You’re kind. He took advantage of that.”
“And so did you.”
Clay flinches as if I’ve just slapped him.
His voice is rough. “Karina. Please. Just let me—”
I back toward the door. “No. I can't even look at you right now.”
Turning on my heel, I walk out. He says my name again, but he doesn't follow.
He lets me go.