Unleashed (4 page)

“That’s actually why I came to talk to you,” she said, hating how far she had to tilt her chin to meet his eyes. She used to love how big he was, how feminine and protected he always made her feel. Now his size highlighted her lack of control over her fate.

“To talk about prison fashion?”

Dickhead
. Still loved to play the deliberately obtuse card when he didn’t want to hear what she had to say. “My husband.”

Eyes that were icy before went downright glacial. The nostrils of his crooked nose flared as though he’d smelled something rotten, and his lips flattened against his teeth. “Why the fuck would you want to talk to me about your husband?”

Ethan sucked a breath through his teeth his eyebrows shooting straight to his hairline. “Toni and I are going to take Dad home,” he said, with a look at Danny that meant he expected to hear all the gory details. He dropped a quick kiss on Caroline’s cheek and told her to take care as he steered Toni away.

“I want you to help me find out who killed James,” she said.

His eyes narrowed as he took his time answering. “I thought the police already did that.”

Pain stabbed her, stealing her breath, so fierce she took a step back. Did he really believe she was guilty? Or was he taking a jab at her by making her think he did?

“You know I’m not capable of murdering anyone.”

“I don’t know you at all. I haven’t for a long time.” That he didn’t want to renew their acquaintance rang loud and clear.

“Fine. Then you’ll treat me like you would any other client who hires you for your services. I know you run a security and investigation firm with Derek and Ethan. I want to hire you to investigate my husband’s murder since the police aren’t inclined to entertain the possibility that I didn’t do it.”

“I’m sure that barracuda you hired will be able to get you off.”

Caroline didn’t disagree. With her shrewd legal mind and sheer ruthlessness, Rachael Weller had kept dozens of clients out of jail, even the guilty ones. “That’s not enough. Even if I go to trial and a jury finds me innocent, there will always be that stain. People will always wonder.”

“Let them think what they want. You’ll be laughing all the way to the bank.”

She winced at his brutal assessment. He really thought she was that shallow. “It’s one thing for people to think I’m a gold digger, and another for them to think I killed my husband. Besides, it’s not just about me. My mom already has one child who’s an admitted criminal. She doesn’t need her neighbors giving her the stink eye when I come to visit, too.” Not to mention, once the DA built his case, she’d have to go to jail to await trial, and no way in hell was she doing that again. Danny made fun of her orange jumpsuit, but he had no idea what it was like to be confined, with only meetings with her attorney and court appearances to break up the monotony. She swallowed back a wave of nausea at the thought of having to spend a single hour back in confinement.

But even more frightening than the threat of confinement was the deep-seated fear that whoever had killed James was coming after Caroline next.

He feigned a look of regret. “I wish I could help you, I really do. But our client list is pretty full. I can recommend some other firms—”

“I think they’re after me too, Danny.”

For a second hope flared as she thought she saw something like concern flicker in his eyes. “Right. The notes you received. The ones the cops think you wrote yourself.”

The hope disappeared like a wisp of smoke, leaving behind an ache like she’d been kicked in the gut. Did he really believe she would lie about something like that? She willed herself not to care, intent on getting him to agree to help her. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“You can’t pay me enough to take your case.”

“I’m not talking about money.”

He did another head to toe scan, this time letting his eyes linger at the tops of her thighs and on her breasts. To her horror she could feel heat collecting between her legs and her nipples harden against the front of her chest.

He finally moved his gaze to her face and gave her another shake of his head. “No offense, Carrie, but been there, done that, and it doesn’t look like it’s improved much with age.”

“That wasn’t what I was talking about, but trust you to go straight for the gutter. I have information you might be able to use.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that?”

“Information that connects your mother to my husband.”

He froze, every cell on alert like a predator ready to pounce. “What, exactly, did you find?”

“Oh no,” she shook her head, faking bravado. “Not until we have a deal.”

He grabbed her arm, moving so fast his hand was little more than a blur as it reached out. “Don’t fuck with me, Caroline. What did you find?”

“Help me clear my name.”

His grip tightened, hovering on the edge of pain. “So you’ve become a blackmailer as well as a gold digger? Nice.”

She swallowed hard, not about to let him see how much that hurt. “I’m bargaining. There’s a big difference. You help me, I help you.”

“If you have evidence you should turn it over to the police.”

“I don’t know if you’ve been following the news, but the police and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms these days. I’d rather we handle this ourselves.”

His fingers flexed, then loosened one by one. He took a step back and slipped his hands in his trouser pockets. His suit jacket flipped back, revealing a mile-wide chest tapering down to a lean waist and hips. “Thanks, but no thanks. If my mom had a connection to your husband, I’m sure I’ll find it on my own.”

Panic set in, along with desperation as she realized how badly she’d tipped her hand. “You really think you can find it, when for eighteen years you never found anything that linked her to James?”

“That’s because we didn’t know where to look. Now thanks to you, we do. Nice seeing you again, Caroline.”

This time he was the one who strode away without a backward glance, his casual dismissal his final fuck you.

“I thought you said we were going to get something to eat,” Kaylee Edwards said. Hunger scraped at her belly. She hadn’t had anything to eat since the afternoon before, when she’d managed to scrape together enough change to buy a taco.

“I told you I had to run an errand first,” Ericka, who was in the driver’s seat, had to almost yell to be heard over the ancient Ford’s rumbling exhaust system.

Kaylee tried to calm the sense of dread that rose up, mixing with the hunger as she watched miles go by with nothing but grass covered hills spotted with oak trees. They were more than two hours out of Sacramento, had left interstate 80 forty-five minutes ago, and Ericka’s errand was out in the middle of fucking nowhere.

Kaylee rubbed at her temples, trying to ease the throb that came from going too long without food and kept her mouth shut. Ericka had offered her a safe place to stay and an introduction to her manager, and Kaylee wasn’t about to mess this up.

It was the break Kaylee had been hoping for when she spent the last of her money on a bus ticket to get her away from Wichita nearly two weeks ago. The night before she left, she’d woken up with her twenty-four-year-old loser of a stepbrother on top of her, one hand over her mouth, his dick out as he tried to shove her boxers down her legs. The scream he’d let out when Kaylee sank her teeth into his palm brought her stepfather running.

But instead of beating the crap out of Jimmy, Don had gone on a drunken tirade about what a slutty cock tease Kaylee was, and how she’d only gotten exactly what she’d been asking for.

Her mother said nothing, as usual.

Kaylee knew better than to go to the police for help. Until she was eighteen in a year and a half, she’d be put in foster care, or worse, a group home, and no way in hell was she going through that again.

Everyone was always telling her how pretty she was, with her waist length blond hair and blue eyes. She’d figured if she could just get to Los Angeles she’d be set. Once she got there, she figured, even if no one wanted to offer her an acting or a modeling job, at least she could find work as a waitress. Then maybe a producer or director would discover her, just like Natalie Portman had been discovered by a modeling scout at a pizza parlor.

But it hadn’t exactly worked out that way. Kaylee only had enough money to get herself as far as Sacramento, and she had spent the last several days begging change, trying to avoid cops, and other panhandlers who thought she was trying to move in on their turf.

She was ready to admit defeat and call her mom to beg for bus fare back home when she met Ericka. Kaylee was sitting on a park bench next to her beat up duffel bag when Ericka plopped herself down next to her. Unshowered and in the same clothes she’d worn for three days straight, Kaylee squirmed self-consciously next to the woman who was skinny and beautiful enough to be on the cover of a magazine.

She’d introduced herself as Ericka and struck up a conversation. In the course of about ten minutes, Kaylee knew that Ericka had moved there two years ago from Portland, was half Korean, and worked as a model. “You know, you’re really pretty,” Ericka said, studying Kaylee with dark eyes that tilted exotically at the corners. “I don’t know if you’d be interested, but I can introduce you to my manager. He’s always on the lookout for new talent.”

Kaylee’s jaw nearly hit the concrete. Could she seriously see through the days of street grime enough to think Kaylee had any kind of potential? She couldn’t do anything more than nod and mutter, “That would be great,” as her heart pounded and her mind raced with the thought that this could be it!

Kaylee had heard stories about people posing as photographers to take dirty pictures of girls, but Ericka looked legit, and she was a woman, and she seemed really nice. She’d even offered Kaylee a place to sleep and shower once she learned how Kaylee had spent the last several nights.

When Kaylee woke up that morning, Ericka had barely given her time to pee before she said they had to go. They were going out for breakfast, she said as soon as she did an errand.

Now it was almost noon, and there wasn’t so much as another car around, much less a place to grab breakfast. Ericka slowed down a little and did a quick sweep behind her, almost like she was worried about being followed. A battered mailbox listed to the right of a cracked asphalt driveway that was lined with trees. Ericka followed the long drive and pulled up in front of a wood frame house.

Kaylee would have been impressed by the sheer size, but the white paint was peeling in sheets and the front porch was propped up on one end by cinder blocks. The drive continued past the house and seemed to get swallowed up by the brush and trees.

Ericka got out of the car and motioned Kaylee to do the same. The dread Kaylee had tried to quash as the miles passed returned in full force. Ericka hadn’t said much on the drive, and Kaylee worried that she regretted offering to help Kaylee out. Now she looked back at Kaylee with an expression so cold it reminded Kaylee of the snakes that sometimes slithered out of her mother’s garden.

Telling herself she was imagining things she followed Ericka up the crumbling front steps. Instead of knocking Ericka whipped out her phone.

“I’m here,” she said to whoever answered.

Kaylee heard the sound of several bolts sliding free and a slither of unease traveled down her spine. Why did they need that many locks out here in the middle of nowhere, where there was no one around to steal your stuff?

The door opened and she followed Ericka inside. A man opened the door, his stocky frame back lit by the light spilling from the hallway behind him. He had a gun tucked into the front of his pants and three teardrops tattooed under his left eye.

Kaylee remembered reading somewhere that the tear tattoos were worn by gangbangers to show how many people they’d killed. Her throat went dry as the man looked her over with dark, hooded eyes. Ericka better finish up her errand fast, because this place was creeping her out.

The guy motioned for Ericka to follow him inside, and Ericka grabbed Kaylee’s arm to make sure she followed. The inside of the house wasn’t much better than the outside. The wood floor of the entryway was scarred with deep gouges and scratches. Faded wallpaper flaked from the plaster. Kaylee half expected a bat to come flapping down the staircase.

The muffled sobbing coming from somewhere upstairs didn’t do anything to reassure her.

The guy walked halfway down a hallway and knocked on a closed door. A muffled voice said something in Spanish.

The door opened and Kaylee saw two other gangster looking types sitting on chairs across from a battered wooden desk. A man sat behind the desk. Unlike the other guys, he wore a slick looking suit and didn’t have any visible ink. His dark hair was slicked back from a dark, angular face, and he regarded Kaylee with a cold yellow stare that made her skin crawl.

“Very nice,” the man said in faintly accented English. “We can always use more blonds.”

“How old is she?”

“Tell him how old you are,” Ericka snapped.

“Sixteen and a half,” she stuttered, panic rising as she felt the mens’ eyes crawling over her skin. What had Ericka gotten her into?

The man shot Ericka a look. “The older ones do better.”

Better? Better at what? Kaylee’s stomach started to sink. The creepy vibe was getting out of control.

“I want my bonus this time,” Ericka snapped.

The man’s lips tightened, his eyes narrowing behind hooded lids. “We need to check her out first.”

“Why do you need to check me out?” Kaylee asked, though she was pretty sure she knew why.

Ericka shook her head and flashed her a look and in that instant Kaylee knew she’d been duped. She started for the door, but only got two steps before two of the guys grabbed Kaylee by the arms. Her heart tried to beat through her ribcage as she thrashed to get away, but in a few minutes Ericka had stripped her to her bra and panties.

She stood frozen, as the man walked a slow circle around her, coldly assessing her like she was a car he was thinking of buying.

“Good,” was all the man said. Then he called out in rapid Spanish. A woman appeared dressed in nurse’s scrubs, and before Kaylee could react she felt a sharp stab and burn in the muscle of her upper arm. The men released her, and though deep down she knew it was futile, she made a staggering run for the door. She grabbed the doorknob as her legs noodled under her and she slid to the floor in a heap.