Too Much: A Loveswept Contemporary Erotic Romance (All or Nothing) (29 page)

“These donors want immediate action, Dalia, and it’s best if you act soon. I’m free in about an hour. Let’s say we meet at my office in the Plaza then?”

She glanced at her watch, noticed it was five thirty now. She needed new donors but hated the thought that she had to meet up with the father who’d disowned her to get them. Still … she needed new donors. “Okay.”

Something nasty curled in her gut. Those cop instincts kicking in, but she had nothing to base this on and again, she needed more donors. This new program was dear to her heart and she already had a list of kids she knew would fit in perfectly.

“Be prompt, would you? Punctuality is not your best trait.”

Oh, dear old Dad was in top form tonight. Already she regretted saying she’d meet him. She hung up, not deigning to respond. She’d get in, get out, and be home by eight at the latest.

Jeremiah still hadn’t called, so she dialed him as she traversed the roads back downtown. The phone went to his voicemail, so she left a message, trying not to sound too needy. But God, she was. She so was.

She arrived at the Bank of America Plaza and parked her car on the street. It was pretty deserted for early evening downtown, but she locked her doors and headed in. The doorman nodded at her and she nodded in return, heading toward the bank of elevators at the back of the lobby. Within moments she was winging her way to the sixtieth floor.

She’d just stepped off the elevator when she heard raised voices. Two men, her father and—
oh no. No, no, no, no, no
—Jeremiah?

“I told you what would happen, Copeland.” Her father’s voice was harsh.

Jeremiah laughed, and it was an ugly sound. “No, old man, you threatened me that if I didn’t leave your daughter and son alone, you’d destroy me. I believe my response to you was, ‘Fuck off.’ Toby has always been my friend. Daly is my heart. You made their lives hell, and it eats you up inside that they turned to me.”

“You bastard! How dare you,” her father stammered. “You’re street scum. You turned my boy from his family and made my daughter into a whore.”

Daly stepped into the office then, though neither man seemed to notice her.

Jeremiah took a step closer to her father’s desk and leaned over it. “You call her a whore again and I’ll make sure you never utter another word.” It was more than a threat; it was a promise.

Daly shivered. What the hell was going on?

“You should tell her what happened that night three years ago,” her father said with a sudden smile.

Jeremiah stood up tall. “I’m not going to tell her a fucking thing, old man, and neither are
you,” he responded in a very deep, very dark voice.

“You don’t think you should tell her you killed a man?” her father asked, and the tone of his voice held something oily and subversive. “I sent her the pictures, Copeland. She deserved to know what you’d done.”

A hush fell over the room. Daly’s gut churned.

“You sent her the same pictures you sent my brother? You’re fucking crazy, Heyward,” Jeremiah bit out.

“I did,” her father said as she stepped into the office.

It seemed she still went unnoticed, but Daly’s eyes caught on another person who’d entered the room from a different door. Her brother. He shook his head at her, confusion stamping his features and making her chill even deeper.

“You killed him, and my children should know what a horrible person you are. Maybe then they’ll come back into the fold.”

Jeremiah shook his head and took a deep breath. “You did this all so your kids would come back?” Silence took hold for a long moment. “I didn’t kill anyone, Heyward. And I think you underestimate your children if you think they’ll believe a word you say.”

“Why don’t we ask them?”

Jeremiah’s shoulders stiffened and he turned his head, pinning her with his gaze.

Daly stepped forward. “What’s he talking about, Jeremiah?”

“What I’m talking about, Dalia, is this,” her father said as he threw an envelope on the desk and pictures spilled out.

Some she had seen before. Some she had not. They were heinous. Taken out of context and minus the belief she had in her man, they would be damning. She couldn’t help that she lifted a hand to her mouth at a particularly vicious picture filled with a blood-soaked, very deceased Juan DeLeon. She raised her gaze to meet Jeremiah’s but his face was hard, closed off.

“Jeremiah?” Her voice wavered. She needed his arms around her.

“Found me guilty just that quick, huh, Day?”

Confusion swamped her. “What? No—”

“Save it. I just saw your face. You’ve already tried me and found me guilty. What about you, Toby?”

Daly had no idea what to make of that. She hadn’t tried him. She simply needed his arms around her. Those pictures were horrible. But no way had Jeremiah killed someone. She turned to her father and saw the greasy grin on his face. In the low light of the office she witnessed his joy, his feeling of accomplishment in the set off his shoulders, the arrogant tilt of his head.

And she knew then what had happened. He’d called her here for this. Not to talk to donors, but to insinuate that Jeremiah was guilty of the crime of murder. Her brother stepped
forward then.

“It looks really bad, J.C.,” he said in a low voice.

Jeremiah’s head jerked to the side as if he’d been slapped. “So both of you believe this?”

Before Daly could voice her protest, Jeremiah pulled something from his coat pocket and slapped it on her father’s desk. “I had hoped it would never come to this. But old man, you leave me no choice. I hid your crime for three years. You taunted me with jail. I lost the woman I loved more than life. And now you’ve cost me my everything once again.”

Jeremiah turned then, but not to her. He turned to her brother. “I’m sorry,” he said. Toby said nothing.

Jeremiah walked to Daly, stopping inches from her. He ran a finger down the curve of her cheek and she closed her eyes.
Please hold me
, she wanted to scream. But he didn’t. He took a deep breath. “I had hoped you’d trust me this time. It was an empty hope.”

Then he turned and walked out of the office.

“Well, you got what you wanted, didn’t you?” Toby said with a sneer. “Let’s have a look-see what’s on this flash drive, shall we, sister?”

“I don’t care what’s on the flash drive,” she said tonelessly and she headed for the elevators.

“Where are you going, goddamn it!” Heyward roared. “Come back here, Dalia. He’s evil! He’s a murderer!”

She stopped at the doorway and glanced back at the man who’d done nothing but cause harm her entire life. Daly had a nasty feeling something irreparable had been done between her and Jeremiah tonight. But she didn’t doubt he was completely innocent.

She loved him and in spite of his protestations of the opposite, she trusted him wholly and completely. She had to get to him, but first …

“From the moment I recognized what you were, I have hated you, Heyward. Hated that you were my father and everything that came with being your daughter. I hated you more when you ran my mother into an early grave and then even more when you forced my brother to leave his home. But never have I hated you as much as I hate you right now. For what you did to a good man, a decent man, I will never forgive you. I hope you rot.”

She turned, then thought about her brother. “Toby, I’m going to catch him. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Her brother once again said nothing.

By the time Daly made it downstairs, Jeremiah was long gone. She tried calling him. When he didn’t answer she tried again, but then police showed up. Detective Savannah Cavanaugh one of them, and the questioning began. Did Daly know her father had killed Juan DeLeon? Did she know her father had been in business with DeLeon? Did she know her father
had made sure, as a federal judge, that all of the drug-related crime cases involving DeLeon and his drug runners were never prosecuted?

Daly hadn’t known any of that. But she didn’t put it past her father.

By the time her night was over, she’d been interrogated, threatened, and finally, after hours of the treatment, she’d asked for a lawyer. Knowing she didn’t need one, she’d done nothing wrong, but she wanted out of that building. They’d let Toby go. He hadn’t looked at her, hadn’t explained. Just turned around and left her there … alone. Why had they forced her to go over and over her statement? Hell, she hadn’t even seen the flash drive, had no idea what was on it.

But she knew it showed a murder. And she knew her dad had been the one to put a bullet in Juan DeLeon’s forehead.

She had called Jeremiah over and over with no response. Richard Longwhite, an attorney she worked with for some of her kids, appeared an hour after she made the call to him, and within minutes she was leaving the Plaza. She’d watched earlier as her father was taken out in handcuffs, his face white. He looked every single second of his sixty-five years and the hate in her heart grew.

Why had Jeremiah thought she didn’t believe him? She’d done nothing to give him that impression. Her sob caught her by surprise and Mr. Longwhite slowed, patting her back and handing her a handkerchief.

“Ms. Edwards,” Detective Cavanaugh called out.

Daly didn’t say anything, just lifted a brow as she wiped her nose.

“I have been asked by Jeremiah Copeland to make sure that you get this,” she said as she lifted a very large suitcase and held it out to Daly.

“What is this?” Daly asked.

“I don’t know. But Mr. Copeland also asks that you stop calling him. He’s asked me to inform you that any continued calls will result in a restraining order.”

The shock ran through her body and her knees weakened. “What?”

“I’m just the messenger, Ms. Edwards. Leave Jeremiah Copeland alone and everything should be fine for you,” she said, but in the other woman’s eyes was a glimmer of triumph.

Daly lifted her chin in the air. She had no idea what had happened. She just wanted to get home and sleep, to figure it all out tomorrow.

“You’re free to go,” Detective Cavanaugh said and walked away.

Mr. Longwhite walked her to her car and helped her in, setting the suitcase in the back and telling her to call his office tomorrow.

But why would she need to call him? She wasn’t the one who’d murdered anyone.

“Go home, Daly,” he said when she just sat there. “Go home and get some rest. This will
all look different tomorrow.”

Daly started her car and nodded. She pulled into the street and made it to the highway. She made it all the way home and into her house. But once she’d entered her bedroom, she broke, sinking to the floor by her bed and trying to understand it all.

He didn’t trust her. He’d turned away from her, not giving her the benefit of the doubt, assuming she’d automatically think him guilty. She’d taken the step this time—the step to trust Jeremiah. He hadn’t done the same and it cut her deeply. She was bleeding out, unsure she’d survive this. It was incomprehensible that this had happened. Was his love so shallow?

As the tears welled up and overflowed, Daly found a safe place in her mind where tonight was a dream and when she woke up tomorrow, it would all be just that … a nightmare. It was her last thought before darkness pulled her under.

* * *

“She made it home, Copeland.”

“Safely?” Copeland asked with a sharp bite to his voice.

“Yes,” came the response, and then Craft hung up.

“She didn’t believe him,” Toby said as he walked into Jeremiah’s office.

“You didn’t see her face, Toby. It was right there—doubt.” Jeremiah shoved his hands in his pockets.

Toby had returned two hours ago and then Jeremiah had gotten a call from Savvy. She’d delivered the suitcase and promised that Daly had gone home safely. He had Craft make sure. Goddamn her! All he’d wanted was her trust. Just this once. He closed off the little voice in his ear berating him for not telling her everything. Ruthlessly pushed it to the back of his mind and suffocated it.

“I’ve always been afraid and now, Jeremiah, I’m not.”
Her words reverberated through his skull, nearly overwhelming him.

“You didn’t give her a chance to take it all in. You’re the one who didn’t trust this time,” Toby said in a hard voice.

“So be it,” he responded harshly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Toby asked.

“Because he was your father. Nobody wants to believe their father is a murdering bastard.”

“I would have had no problem believing it, because that’s exactly what he is,” Toby said. “Looks like Daly’s not the only one you didn’t trust.”

Silence reigned, and Jeremiah could feel his heart shriveling in his chest. He wondered if he’d fall to the floor and just die. Would he go quickly? Slowly?

Toby sighed. “You know, Jeremiah, I stood by you when she left the first time because even though she’s my sister, my flesh and blood, she hadn’t given you everything she’d promised. So I stuck by your side, keeping an eye on her from a distance because I didn’t want anything that had to do with you touching her. I don’t think I can do that this time.”

Copeland raised a brow at that. “Do what?”

“Stick by you. You hurt her tonight. Deeply. That wasn’t doubt on her face; that was horror. Those pictures were atrocious. My father is a monster and threw them in her face and when she needed your comfort, you turned away from her. Then you blamed her. Yeah, Jeremiah, I got to say, you fucked this one up pretty bad.”

Copeland shrugged. “We have a differing opinion. If you’d like a few days off, I understand. But your sister is off limits for discussion. If you can’t keep her from the conversation, consider not working for me anymore.”

“I’m sure that’ll be the easiest thing for you, won’t it? No reminders of the woman whose heart you broke for a second time. I told her just a few days ago that she’d loved you too much. And I think the opposite is true for you.”

Copeland grunted. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, you didn’t love her enough.”

The elevator doors closed, and Copeland was left alone in the silence of his grief. It was staggering, but he’d survived losing her once.

Surely he could do it again.