She slammed his office door so hard the frame of a painting bounced against the wall.
He should go after her. No, he shouldn't. He scrubbed his hair. Fuck. What was it about this woman?
When he got back out on the floor, Nathan leaned against the bar and cocked his head to the front door. “She went that way, Casanova.”
“A misunderstanding, that's all.”
A grin spread across his face. “Sounded like you were getting along alright.”
Trick wrenched open the door. Rachel stood by the curb, impatiently tapping her foot, swiping angrily at her phone.
“Come on, Rachel. I'll take you home. We can talk then.” He could be the bigger person here even if she was a heartless deserter. Whatever. He needed her to get what he needed.
She stared up the street. “I have a car.” She pointed at a blue Chevy slowing before them.
“No, you don't. Uber? Rachel, look at me. And think. Jay took it.” How could she not see this? He had access. He had motive given his gambling habits, something he wasn’t clear she understood. Worse, Jay was missing. The very good private investigators he’d hired to find Jay had turned up nada.
She didn't answer. Instead, she climbed into the back seat, silent, staring straight ahead. He let her go.
As her ride sputtered away, finding her stepbrother—someone he once called a friend—moved to the number one spot on his suspect list. Finding him was imperative, and if it meant having her around to make that happen, fine. Stealing her cell phone couldn't be that hard. He would find his ex-friend, and Jay would discover that Trick had new friends—ones where betrayals didn't go without punishment.
5
Rachel stared out the window of the car, thankful her thousandth Uber driver since The Great Betrayal wasn't a talker. She certainly wasn't getting into any vehicle with Trick, and for once, she was going to be smart and think. Sexing it up against a door with her ex? And not even getting off? That was smart—not. His presence had jettisoned her reason—and her pride, or whatever was left of it.
A coldness had seeped through her muscles at Trick's final questions about Jay. What a ridiculous idea. Her stepbrother had nothing to do with their vanished trust fund. He didn't need to steal anything. At least half that money belonged to him. Maybe one of his freeloading friends was involved. He did have terrible taste in friends.
Gah! See what Trick did to her? Made her brain spin in circles. Made her demean herself even further by questioning the honesty of the only family she had left.
She stared at her cell phone, lying silent in her palm. “Are you ever calling me back, Jay?” she chuffed at herself. Trick was driving her crazy—like a speak-to-inanimate-objects-and-have-sex-against-a door-with-her-embezzling-ex-fiancé kind of crazy.
Her mind sifted through the last three years. Sure, in the beginning, Jay called every week. Then his calls got less frequent, which she'd hardly noticed as she'd been busy trying to piece her life back together. Next thing she knew, he was in the middle of the ocean somewhere without internet and cell service.
She hit the speed dial number again. By the grace of God, a voice answered.
“Hey—”
“Where have you been?” She was beyond any ability to temper herself. Her Uber driver glanced into the rearview mirror with a start. She turned to face the side window.
“Jesus, Rachel.” He yawned. “Take it down a notch. Whatever happened to hello?”
“Whatever happened to calling your sister back?”
“Was about to after your latest message. How the hell did Trick find you?” At least he now sounded awake.
“I have no idea.”
“Stay away from him, Rach.”
Jay's warning tone irritated. “Where are you?”
“Working.”
Was that a woman's muffled voice? More than one woman actually—one voice, a high-pitched laugh, and the other humming deeper. “Who are you with?”
“No one. I'm ashore for a day or two.” The click of a door shut out the women’s sounds.
Ridiculous joy blew up inside her. “Then you can come and see me. I could really use your help.”
“Nah, going back tomorrow. Listen, Trick’ll say anything. He's slick.”
Trick, Trick, Trick. Why was everything suddenly about him again? “Believe me, I know,” she grumbled. “He says you took it.”
“Of course, he does.”
Was Jay peeing while they were on the phone? Men. She tried not to listen to the tell-tale splash in the background. “What happened is not our fault. I've been reconsidering. Maybe it was Peter. He always hung around like he wanted something.” She chewed a hangnail on her thumb.
“Yeah, you. And yeah, he might have been the one. It could have been anyone in that office, but it was Trick. Rachel, let it go. It's healthier. We agreed to move on, remember?”
She sighed heavily at the flushing sound. “Seriously, Jay?”
“I mean it, Rach. Seeing Trick now—”
“I'm not seeing him.” Emphasis on seeing—more like inappropriate touching, baiting, and goading him. She really needed to be smarter, like more stop signs, less impulsive action.
“Promise me.” His voice grew steely, which kind of pissed her off. She'd have yelled, but threw up a mental stop sign. See? She was getting better, and Jay was trying to help, after all.
“Have some faith in me. I think he's got money. He might be rolling in it, actually. His Hugo Boss suit wasn't cheap, and I recognized real antiques in his office.” She lowered her voice and covered her phone with her cupped hand. “They told us the money was just … gone. But what if it isn't?”
“Wait. His office? You were in his office?” An exasperated sigh seared her ear. “Trick is a player, Sis. Promise me you won't go back to him.”
“I won't, but I'm not going to let him get away.”
“Drop. It. Rachel. Trust me. Now do the thing, so I know you mean it.”
A laugh rumbled in her throat at the mention of their special ritual. She made the sign of an X on her forehead and her heart and tapped her sternum, a virtual safe to protect a sworn oath. After all, she wasn't going to go back to Trick. She was going back to Shakedown to work. “Okay, trusting you and dropping the past in the vault. Did you do it, too? So you'll trust me to make the right decisions here?” She could fix this for both of them, and Jay didn't need to know details of her rapidly-forming plan.
“Of course. In the vault. In the meantime—”
“I know, I know. Trick's a con. Did you see my text about a business idea? A for-hire bartender service? Better than being out in the middle of the ocean, right” She'd been sending him ideas for the last three years. It made her feel better to be doing something even if it was just dreaming.
“Yeah, could work. But for now, I’m okay. Really.”
“You know I'm here for you just like you were for me. That at least deserves a call now and again, right?”
“Of course. Listen, check you later? I just got up and—”
“Sure.”
“Love ya, Sis.” The phone line went dead before she had a chance to say another word. Her eyes pricked, but she tamped down any potential tears. She missed her brother, his easy smile and how he used to try to cheer her up with lame jokes and his stupid impressions … Damn Trick Masters.