Second Time Lucky (Club Decadence Book 5) (27 page)

“It’s not what you think,” she whispered.

“Really?” An enraged Sean fired back in disbelief. How dare she deny the evidence in front of her face? Incredulous, he jabbed a finger at an incriminating photo. “You mean that’s not you playing Domme to Judge Jenkins and Shelby?” He pointed to another. “How about this one? That’s not you beating his ass with a riding crop while he fucks her? Or this one,” he snarled, as he grabbed yet another, this time holding it up to her face, “you’re not the bitch with a strap-on buried in the judge’s throat? The cheap wig isn’t much of a disguise. All the guys recognized you when they saw it.”

“Please stop,” she pleaded as she turned away.

“Hell no!” he thundered as his hand dug into her hair and none too gently pulled her head back. He’d never harmed her before and wouldn’t now, although the rage boiling over had his fingers tightening. “You don’t get to sit there and turn on the water works. I want the truth, Mara. What the fuck did you do?”

“I didn’t fuck him, Lucky.”

His nickname said in her soft voice brought back memories of better times when he thought they’d been happy and in love. It was like a hot knife searing into his gut.

“Don’t call me that, dammit. And I don’t give a shit if you did fuck him, or if you fucked them both, or the entire goddamned club for that matter.” That was a boldfaced lie, but he was livid and wanted her to hurt too. “I’m so over this shit. What I want to know is how you fucked over people you called friends. I want to know about the blackmail, your arrangement with Shelby, and about anyone else who had a hand in this shit.”

Her response was a shuddering breath as her eyes closed against the anger he knew was blazing from his own.

“Answer me, Mara.” His fingers flexed in her hair as she began to struggle to get free.

“Please,” she cried in the barest of whispers, “you’re hurting me.”

“Sean, let her go.”

Cap’s advice came needlessly, because his fingers had already relaxed.

“You sure played me for a fool.” Picking up the brown envelope he’d retrieved from his office, he shoved it into her hands along with her phone. “Here are the divorce papers. I signed them this time.”

Her eyes flew to his in shock.

He ignored her as he continued, “They were outdated, so I had to have them drawn up again. Your signature gets us out of this travesty of a marriage, once and for all.”

“I thought—” She stared at him for a moment before her gaze shot to Cap’s, as if seeking verification of his claim.

Sean didn’t bother to wait for her reaction, unable to stomach anymore. He backed away from her, in his anger, not willing to risk what he might do. “This time, rest assured, they will be filed. My attorney will see to it and send you a copy.”

With that, he turned to leave. In the doorway, he turned back to Cap. “Get a forwarding address, will you? I’m done. I can’t bear to look at her another minute. I’ll swing by and pick up the papers after she’s gone.”

Then he walked out, stalking down the hall, so enraged he was shaking, but there was more to it than anger he had to admit. There was hurt, wounded pride, and beneath it all, a body that yearned for her, despite all she’d done. He leaned against the wall not thirty feet from the open door. What the hell was wrong with him? Was he a masochist for wanting her even after she’d fucked him over?

As he stood there a mass of conflicted, divergent, heart wrenching emotions, he heard muffled sobs through the open doorway. The sound was unfamiliar, having heard her cry only a handful of times. His mind screamed to ignore them, his heart agreed that he should, but his body, again as if ruled by neither of them, moved without his conscious consent returning to Cap’s doorway. His friend glanced his way, other than that, giving no indication he was there, allowing him to listen in.

“Victor Mendoza was the man that shot us,” Mara disclosed with a sniffle. “He is Esteban Mendoza’s nephew.”

“We know that. Do you have anything to impart that we don’t know?”

“Were you always such an asshole, Cap, or is this special treatment you reserve for wives of friends who get screwed over?”

“Tell me so we can end this, Mara.”

Sean watched as she inhaled deeply, the motion shifting her hair across her back in a shimmer of color. She was so damn beautiful, it made him ache.

“I’ve known Victor Mendoza for over a decade. I met him back east as a kid. Our paths have been crossing ever since, unfortunately for me, not in a good way. Like his uncle, he’s into dealing drugs and women—specifically young girls. By accident, he came to the clinic that day. I could tell because he was surprised to see me there. I hoped never to see him again, having shaken him off several times already. I’m afraid—”

Pausing, she shook her head, evidently changing her mind about explaining her emotions. When she went on, it was to give the facts.

“He was blackmailing the judge. I don’t know what Sean was talking about, but it wasn’t Shelby or me, and it wasn’t about the club other than as a way to connect with him and set up the scene. Everything else was Victor—the cameras, the room, the costumes and props. Anyway, what I wanted to tell you, why I came here today, is that the judge is merely the tip of the iceberg. Victor was in an acquisition phase back then. By that, I mean he was acquiring capital to expand his business and that capital wasn’t only money. He wanted people, important people. Judges he wanted in his pocket, law enforcement he wanted on his payroll and politicians he wanted on the hook to pave his way.”

Digging into her purse, she pulled out several sheets of neatly folded paper. “This is a list of all of Victor’s associates. It’s a bit dated, but I’m sure you’ll find something useful there. Many of the people on that list have conveniently come into wealth and power since the time I knew them, which was early on in their corruption. I suspect they are willing associates of Victor, maybe partners by now.”

Standing, she used the desk to support herself as she staggered toward her crutches.

“Why don’t you sit and finish your story,” Cap said firmly, issuing an order, not a suggestion. “Afterward, I’ll make sure you get to wherever you need to be.”

From behind her, he saw her head turn, glancing at the crutches against the bookshelf. If they had been closer, she would have bolted before now, he was certain. Cap, brilliant strategist that he was, had cut off her only viable means of escape. Running away was her standard M.O. and Sean wasn’t the least bit surprised that Cap knew it.

“You won’t make it,” Tony warned her, “so I wouldn’t try.”

Mara collapsed back into one of the two chairs and with her face in her visibly shaking hands, elbows propped on the arms of the chair, she pressed on.

“Victor Mendoza is a dreamer. Not meager little daydreams either, no, his are always on a much grander scale. He told me once that he’d hit the big time one day and that in order to do that he needed connections. He already had some within his own family, but there were barriers. He used that word—barriers—I remember it.” Shaking her head as if trying to displace the unpleasant memory, she continued. “One of those barriers is gone, the heir apparent who was shot and killed that day at the clinic. That leaves Uncle Esteban, who is getting up in years, and the little boy, who has years before he’s ready. They are all that stand in Victor’s way. I think he is primed for a takeover of the cartel. I don’t know for a fact, although I know how he thinks. If I was a betting woman and had two cents to rub together, I’d put my money on Victor taking down his uncle and becoming kingpin.”

She waved her hand toward his desk. “My cell number is on the paper. I’m sure you’ll have questions after you’ve had time to sift through the information. I’d appreciate it if you’d share it with the police. I should have gone there today. I regret not doing it, so badly. I stupidly thought that here, with an old friend, it might be easier. I was wrong. But hey, that’s the story of my life. I’m going back to Joanna’s to pack. I can’t put them at risk any longer, especially after Victor finds out I’ve shared all of his dirty little secrets. Maybe I’ll ask the police for protective custody, or with the Feds involved, maybe I can enter witness protection. I don’t know. I’ll figure something out.” Exhausted, she slumped in her chair. “Can you take me to Joanna’s now, please?”

“How did you get tangled up with this low life?” Cool bastard that he was, Cap seemed unfazed by the new intel he’d been gifted.

“I worked for him in D.C. a long time ago.”

“Running drugs?”

She snorted. “No,” she denied vehemently, meeting Cap’s gaze directly for the first time since he’d been observing. “I never sold drugs. Never took them either, which is remarkable, all things considered. Victor picked me up off the street when I was fifteen. I was a runaway. My home life sucked, my mother was a drunk and my stepfather, well, let’s just say he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants and leave it at that. Victor said he’d save me, that he loved me. I believed him at fifteen. At sixteen, I was earning my keep on my back. By seventeen, I was the main bitch in his stable. It sounds impressive, but didn’t get me any special privileges. So, my inglorious claim to fame and the hard truth is that I was a teenage hooker out of necessity, and Victor Mendoza was my pimp.”

Sean’s heart stopped, his mind reeling. He questioned what he’d heard with his own ears. Reflexively, he took a step back, reaching out to grasp the doorframe as his legs turned to jelly while shockwaves ran through him. The awful words replayed in his head.
Victor Mendoza was my pimp.
Christ! The bastard had turned his sweet Mara into a hooker at the age of fifteen. Unable to process more beyond that, her words became a buzzing in the background.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, zoned out, but the next input he was able to process, didn’t make him feel better, only piled on more guilt and agony.

“There were other pictures,” she whispered, pain evident in her tone. “I did that,” she waved her hand at the images on the desk, of her with the judge and Shelby, “because he threatened to send them to Sean. I couldn’t bear it.” As if fighting for control, she closed her eyes tightly for a moment before going on. “I left Sean because I loved him. I can’t say I regret the time we had together because it was the best of my life, but I do regret hurting him and dragging him down into my gutter. He’s a good man, but the love of a man like him is a pipe dream for a poor white trash girl like me. I overreached and as usual, got bitch-slapped back in my place. Now that you have all the illicit details of my fucked-up life, I’d like to go. I’m not feeling well.”

“Mara—”

She ignored him, without doubt having reached the end of her emotional endurance. Shakily, she stood.

“If you need to reach me, call my cell, or better yet, have the police follow up. That way, none of you ever has to see me again. Just make it fast. I’m only planning to stay in town for another day or two. Any longer and Victor will find me. If that happens, well, I’m sure you can imagine how things will end.”

Done talking, she picked up the envelope Sean had thrust at her and pulled out the wad of legal papers that was their divorce decree. She flipped to the last page, pausing to scan it. Like a statue carved from stone, he didn’t move and couldn’t speak as he watched her lean forward and add her signature. Before she finished, a teardrop fell on the paper, smearing the ink.

Other than the pounding of his pulse in his ears, the only sound in the room was the rustling of the papers as she tucked them away and returned them to the desk. As she straightened, he swayed slightly, leaning heavily into the door frame, afraid he would sink weakly to the floor in a heap. The wood creaked under his weight, alerting Mara, who twisted and stared at him.

Shock made her stiffen before it was replaced by visible pain, rippling in waves through her body as panic set in. With a cry, she lurched across the room to her crutches. The next instant she was moving toward him, the creak of the aluminum deafening as she moved toward the door. In trance-like inertia, he stood motionless, his mind tried to absorb the horror of her past. He wanted to grab her up, comfort her and cry out his grief, but as she moved closer, he couldn’t do any of those things, virtually paralyzed.

As she turned sideways to slip past, he heard her broken whisper. “I’m so sorry, Sean.” Then she was gone.

“My god!” Cap murmured, as shocked as he was. “She was fuckin’ fifteen. I’ll kill the bastard.”

Sean’s reply came out in a croak. “She never wanted to talk about growing up—ever. Never did I suspect…” He shook his head. “Dear god, what she must have endured.”

Cap moved forward, getting in his face. “Snap out of it, Sean. You’re practically catatonic. Did you get all that?”

“I zoned out between Mendoza was her pimp and she left me because she loved me.”

“He didn’t leave her many choices. The one she chose wasn’t smart by a longshot, but she seemed sincere that she did it out of love for you.” Cap paused, glaring at him. His hands gripped his arms and he literally shook him back to his senses. “Why are you standing here? You can’t let her leave like that. Go after her, man.”

Sean stepped into the hallway. Looking down through the interior lobby, he saw the elevator doors slide closed.

“Fuck!” he roared.

“I’ll call security and have them hold her. Go!”

Sean was already moving through the hall, hitting the stairs at a full run as he prayed the guard would stop her in time. Down ten floors, he entered the lobby minutes later winded, but not tired as adrenaline pumped through him. He scanned the crowded atrium until he saw her at the glass doors, pushing frantically on the panic bar as a guard tried to talk her down.

When they didn’t budge, she turned to the older man and demanded, “Open the door! You can’t keep me here.”

“Mr. O’Brien wants…”

“I don’t give a damn what Mr. O’Brien wants. I’ll have you arrested for false imprisonment. Open up!”

“Mara, wait,” Sean called out to her. He shouldn’t have because the sound of his shout made her panic worse.

“Let me out, dammit!” she screamed at the security guard. “I want out. Now!”