Chapter Thirty-Seven Race Against Time
JAYCE
My grandfather’s trusted P.I., Harvey, pushes yet another file across his desk toward me.
I clench my jaw in anticipation. His dark eyes don’t blink.
Part of me doesn’t even want to bother looking at it—because I’m more than convinced of what Harvey’s telling me by this point—but his wrinkled frown tells me that he isn’t going to let me miss any bit of information he uncovered.
That’s why I hired him, after all, and why Grandfather always trusted him.
“That’s everything,” he tells me. “They’ve been busy.”
He’s shown me pictures, financial reports, school records, and police reports already, and they all paint a clear picture of a sick plot that the Holloways weren’t even aware was being enacted against them.
I knew Harvey was a man who would safely get this info to me, and he’s proved himself once again.
There’s no questioning the truth about what is happening at this point.
And there’s one person behind it all.
Aubrey Reynolds.
She was responsible for Holloway Architecture’s collapse all those years ago, pulling strings in the shadows and bleeding the company out. That wasn’t her only scheme, though, and the Holloways weren’t her only targets…just the most personal ones, it seems.
Aubrey and her late husband were prolific conmen.
The realization settles over me slowly as I scroll through the files in front of me.
“Wire fraud,” Harvey says, in his gravelly voice. “Banking fraud. Shell companies…”
I flip another page.
“Jesus,” I murmur.
“It gets worse,” Harvey says.
I drag a hand down my face before leaning back in my chair.
“Let me guess, their company…”
“Wasn’t their primary source of income,” Harvey finishes, tapping the folder. “It was a front.”
The words make my stomach twist.
“For what exactly?” I ask.
Harvey opens another file, sliding several documents across the table toward me.
“Fraud schemes mostly. Wire transfers routed through offshore accounts. Identity manipulation. Fabricated contracts. They created a legitimate-looking company, and they used it to build trust with investors or partners, to then siphon money through fake projects.”
I stare at the pages. There are bank statements, transaction chains, and corporate filings.
“Holy shit,” I breathe.
Harvey nods grimly. “They’re real damn good at it.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, I’m seeing that.”
Harvey leans forward, resting his forearms on his desk.
“Aubrey didn’t just wake up one day and decide to target Holloway,” he continues.
“She and her husband ran scams for most of their adult lives. They built a network of shell corporations and false business ventures. Holloway became a target for them early on, shortly after their marriage. My guess would be it was Aubrey’s idea to go after it.
Seems as though they were trying to dismantle it enough to push the Holloways out.
Probably wanted to swoop in and buy up what was left for pennies on the dollar and make it their new cover, since Holloway has so much legitimacy.
It looks like they were nearly successful before, around the time the Holloway couple’s son died. ”
I grind my teeth, fury rushing through me. Fucking vultures.
“All this that you’ve found… it’s solid?” I ask. “Usable evidence in court?”
“I’ve already verified several of the fraudulent transfers,” Harvey assures me. “Federal agencies will be interested once we formally submit everything.”
I let out a slow breath. God damn it. I should have followed my instincts earlier, but I’m glad I hired Harvey in the end.
I knew there was something fucked up about the Reynolds.
More than them just being the usual snotty, irritating rich assholes.
Something sinister. Calculating. I waited too long.
Now they’re going after Sutton and her family again, and I’ve been dragging my feet to deal with them.
“Why haven’t they been caught until now?” I demand to know, shoving the file away without opening it.
Harvey sits back in his chair and shrugs. “Money. Influence. You should know more than anyone what rich people are capable of getting away with.”
Yeah, I fucking do. My fury burns hotter, not only at the Reynolds, but at myself. I should have done more to keep them away from Sutton. I clench my fists so hard, my knuckles hurt.
Suddenly, my phone buzzes. I unclench my fists and dig it out.
Relief washes through me when I see that it’s Sutton.
I left her so abruptly earlier, right when I was going to confess my feelings, and part of me has been afraid she wouldn’t want to talk to me.
The fact that she’s calling has to be a good sign…
I answer the phone and open my mouth to say her name, but my words die on my lips when I hear something strange.
“Time has a way of changing things…”
That’s not Sutton’s voice.
I hear a low growl, and I freeze. Was that Leon? What the fuck is going on? Widening my eyes, I set the phone down on the desk and put the call on speaker. Harvey frowns, then realization dawns on his face, and he gestures toward me.
“Mute it,” he whispers. “And I’ll record it. Don’t tip them off.”
Nodding, I quickly do as I’m told. Harvey is already reaching for his phone.
Sutton’s voice finally comes through. I shove to my feet, ready to go to her, but Harvey reaches over his desk and puts his hand on my arm, giving me a warning look.
My hands clench into fists as I stare at him, furious he’s preventing me from taking action.
Sutton is mine to protect and right now she needs me. This fucker better have a plan.
Forcing myself to stay silent and still, I listen as Sutton speaks. I can tell she’s scared, but she’s doing her best to sound calm.
“This isn’t going to work, Aubrey,” Sutton insists. “You can’t force me to marry Leon, and even if you do, my parents aren’t going to just … give him the company.”
That’s my fucking girl. I want nothing more than to shout that I’m here, and that she is not alone, but I force myself to stay silent.
Meanwhile, while Harvey is recording my call with one phone, he’s pulling another phone out of his desk and calling the cops.
He glances up at me and murmurs, “Where are they?”
“They have to be at my place,” I reply. “That’s where Sutton was going to go when you called me.”
Nodding, he gives my address to the police then hangs up. He hasn’t skipped a beat. Always a professional.
“Let’s go,” he says, standing. He opens a drawer in his desk and pulls out a gun, which he slips into a holster at his hip.
We leave his office at a dead sprint. The moment we hit the sidewalk, the cold air slams into my lungs like a punch, but I barely feel it. My entire body is running on adrenaline now, my muscles tight and heart hammering so hard it feels like it might crack my ribs.
I grip the phone in my hand, holding it between us as we run, keeping the speaker on so we can hear what’s happening.
Sutton’s voice spills through it. Hearing her keeps me grounded so I don’t completely lose my fucking mind. If I can hear her, she’s alive. If she’s talking, that means they haven’t hurt her.
Yet.
“Just sign the documents,” Leon’s voice crackles through the phone.
My jaw tightens so hard it aches. Every instinct in my body is screaming at me to run faster.
My shoes slam against the pavement as we tear down one block and then another. My lungs burn, my breath is coming out in sharp bursts. Sweat is already gathering at the back of my neck despite the cool evening air.
A couple walking toward us jumps aside as we barrel past.
“Sorry,” Harvey calls out breathlessly, though he doesn’t slow down.
I’m focused entirely on the phone. Every word Sutton speaks cuts through me like broken glass, because beneath the calm tone she’s trying to maintain, I hear a slight tremor in her voice. She’s terrified, and she’s fighting like hell not to show it.
“Don’t,” she says through the phone.
We reach the corner before the apartment building and cut across the street, barely missing a taxi that blasts its horn as we pass in front of it.
“Watch it!” the driver shouts.
I don’t even glance back.
The apartment building looms ahead of us, glass and steel reflecting the late afternoon light. My legs are burning by the time we shove through the front doors. Warm air slams into us as we burst into the lobby.
A couple people near the concierge desk turn in surprise as we rush past.
“Mr. Vaughn!” the concierge calls.
I don’t stop, and Harvey is right behind me as we run to the elevators.
If they’ve hurt her in any way…
The elevator door dings open and I prepare to rush forward, out onto the landing in front of the penthouse, but Harvey grabs me before I even exit the car.
“Hold on,” he hisses. “I’ll go first.”
I grit my teeth, but I get it. He has the gun.
“Fine,” I growl. “Let’s just get in there!”
He nods and moves ahead of me, walking out of the elevator and across the landing. When he reaches the door, he tests the knob and thankfully, it’s not locked.
“Go!” I snap.
He throws the door open and we storm inside.
The sight before me has me stopping short, fear and rage twisting through me.
Sutton is sitting on the couch in the living room, her body rigid and her face pale.
Leon is sitting next to her with a knife in his hand, and Aubrey is pacing in front of them.
They all whip their gazes to us as soon as we cross the threshold.
“Jayce!” Sutton cries.
Leon grabs Sutton by her hair while Aubrey’s eyes narrow into a blood-thirsty glare at me.
“You!” Aubrey cries. “I was hoping you’d join us, since this is all your fault!”
Her voice breaks into a scream and she lunges for me. I see a flash of metal as she draws a second knife from the waistband of her pants.
“No!” Sutton shrieks. She throws an elbow into Leon’s throat and he lets her go, choking and collapsing back onto the couch.
Sutton leaps to her feet and runs toward me.
She and Aubrey reach me at nearly the same time.
I reach for Sutton, wrapping my arms around her just as a gunshot cracks through the air.
Twisting my body, I shield Sutton from Aubrey as she drives her knife forward. Pain rips through me, hot and deep.
Another shot rings out.