Chapter 14
NICOLETTA
We all file out, and the men look at me with new admiration. Before this, I was just another woman they thought did Bolt wrong, but now their eyes tell a different story.
Like their own women, I’ve proven I’m tougher than they probably expected, especially with their preconceived notions of what I’m about.
I expect Bolt to join the others at the bar. Honestly, I wish he would. The whole planning session took more out of me than I expected, and right now, I’m beat, but it’s more than that or the stress of what we’re about to do.
It’s about my father—a man I’ve known all my life—becoming not only a stranger, but a monster. A man who would abuse young, desperate women looking for shelter and a better life, then use their weakness against them.
My parents were always distant, like I was an extra accessory they didn’t need, but finding out this about the man I called Dad is past devastating—it’s shattering.
I head for the back stairs without looking behind me or seeing where Bolt is going.
The only piece left of this finely tuned plan is contacting my mother and telling her to stay at the spa a few more days.
She doesn’t deserve to be embroiled in this chaos, especially since I’m sure she wasn’t aware of anything more than my father having affairs.
I pull open the heavy metal door leading to the stairwell, and a hand reaches over my head and pulls the door wider. “You look beat.” His voice is low and weary.
I gaze up into his hardened face. “So do you.” He nods toward the stairs, but I don’t move. “You don’t have to babysit me. Go hang out with the others.”
“If I wanted to hang out at the bar, I would.” He moves forward, and I have no choice but to climb the stairs.
We reach the landing, then quietly go down the hallway and into his apartment. He closes and locks the door behind us, and I turn to him, trapped with so many emotions skittering through my mind.
Bolt nods to the couch. “Sit. I think we could both use a drink.”
He heads for the kitchen, and a few minutes later, he returns with two tumblers of Jack Daniels.
He hands me the glass. “I know you’d probably rather have a glass of wine, but I don’t have any, and some times just call for whiskey.”
I raise the glass. “And this is one of those times.” I sip at mine, and he takes a huge gulp.
“You had some good information before.”
I guess that’s Bolt’s backwards way of thanking me.
“I mean, we could’ve gotten all that info, but you knowing it firsthand helped.”
“Thank you.” I wait a few seconds. “I think we’re developing a pattern here.”
Bolt’s brow furrows.
“Hot sex, then we ignore each other.”
Bolt drinks deep, but remains silent.
“We should probably come to some kind of understanding before tomorrow night,” I reason.
“Understanding?”
“Just so everything goes smoothly. I mean, we have to go together and act as if we like each other.”
“Yeah, so?”
“I just want to make sure we’re on the same page.”
“We are.” He focuses on his glass.
“Great.”
We sit in silence, but after all that’s gone on between us, what’s left to say?
After a few minutes, Bolt pushes off the couch. “I’m fuckin’ beat. We got a big day tomorrow.”
“Right,” I agree.
I watch him walk, no swagger, out of the room exactly like the outlaw he is—cold, cut-off, unfeeling.
Probably better this way. After tomorrow night, my father’s life would turn upside down, along with mine.
There would be legal battles and who knows what, with all the holdings and assets my parents retained.
Years in court, but I have no intention of fighting for any of it.
As far as I’m concerned, my mother can have whatever the government doesn’t seize.
I grab my phone and swipe at my mother’s number.
After a few rings, her cheerful voice answers, “Nicoletta?”
“Hi, Mom. Are you enjoying yourself?”
“Absolutely. I don’t know how I haven’t been here before, but I certainly plan on coming back.”
“That’s what I want to talk to you about.” Now to word this carefully. “The investigation into Brad’s murder has been heating up, and I think it would be advantageous if you stay at the spa for at least another week.”
“Really? How so?” she asks.
I wasn’t expecting that. “Remember you said I really didn’t know Dad and what he was capable of doing?”
“Yes.”
“I have a feeling you might be right. Seems they’re looking at him now in connection with the murder, so it would probably be best if you sit tight out of the country for a little longer.” Total lie, but they’d be looking for her soon enough.
“I hate to think that scenario might be true, but one thing I do know, your father has been hiding money for months now.”
“Hiding money where?” A new piece to the puzzle.
“Off-shore accounts, along with regular visits to the Caymans, Panama and Singapore.”
“Do you have access to these accounts?”
“Of course, you know your father, he underestimates everyone. Typical son of a rich man. They think they’re smarter than everyone else.” She huffs into the phone. “I also know where he hides duffel bags of cash.”
“What?” Mind blown. “Where?”
“In the gardener’s shed.”
“The one in the old section of the house?” The one I passed when I was making my escape from my pervert of a father?
“The very same.”
“Did he tell you about that too?” I ask.
“Not exactly. I found it by accident and saw at least five duffel bags filled with wrapped thousand dollar bills.”
“What were you doing in the gardener’s shed?” My mother didn’t even take care of the house plants.
“That new landscaping service your father hired. I had to show the boss where all the equipment was located, and while we were down there, he showed me some of his equipment . . . I mean, have you seen the boss of that crew? He’s a cross between Jason Momoa and The Rock, so .
. . after he left, I was looking for something to wipe the mud off my shoes, and there they were, stuffed behind one of the work benches. ”
“I don’t believe this,” I mumble.
“About me and the gardener?” my mother asks.
“No, that I believe; I’m referring to the money.” Never let it be said I had a normal upbringing.
“I made sure I hid the bags better.” Heavy sigh.
“Your father’s never been good with details.
He’s too used to everyone doing everything for him.
I’m the one who keeps the office staff organized, along with supervising all the listings and sales.
He likes to be the face of the company, not the worker bee. ”
Somehow my mother’s words don’t surprise me, making what I’m about to do tomorrow night all the more devastating for him.
“Mom, this is very important, and it’s also very important that you keep all this information to yourself. In the next few days, things might get a little crazy, and you might hear some disturbing things on the news.”
“Not here,” my mother interjects. “No TVs, no media of any kind allowed. The only reason you were able to reach me on my phone was because I’m in my room.”
“Okay, great.” When I grow up, I definitely want to be my mother. “We’ll speak again in another few days.”
“Wonderful.”
The call disconnects, and I piece together all this valuable information. Offshore accounts, duffel bags full of money. Maybe some of that illegal money could go to do some good.
BOLT
I couldn’t get away from Nicoletta fast enough. Any minute, she was gonna start asking me questions about how I felt, or worse yet, how she felt. Shit, how could I answer any of those kinds of questions?
And what makes it worse is I’m confused too, but all that has to be stored away. We have a job to do tomorrow, and she and I being focused is the only way we could pull it off.
Convince her father we mean no harm. Convince him Nicoletta has moved on and isn’t a threat. Then pull the rug out from under him with the surveillance video. None of that could happen if we were second-guessing each other, or worse, in some kind of cat-and-mouse game ourselves.
For the next twenty-four hours, we’re just two people doing a job together. Two people on the same page, bringing down that bastard, Clark Williams.
Forget anything between us.
Forget how she lights me up like no other.
Forget how I want to barge back into the living room and take her—slow and dirty, then hard and fast.
Forget how I did just that last night. How she melted for me. How she screamed out my name, and those goddamn moans coming from deep within her.
Forget how she just turned on the shower, and right now the water is pounding over her perfect body.
Fuck me, I’m screwed.