Chapter 6
That was the last time Gia would try to be nice to Flynn. She thought they’d reached a turning point when he’d run the FBI agents off her ranch. Clearly his lawyer genes had just kicked in. He probably thought he’d get sued for malpractice if he didn’t do it. In the future she planned to steer clear of him. Gia had had about as much judgment as she could take.
Obviously there was no controlling what people thought of her, but for sanity’s sake she wanted to avoid the haters. Nugget was all about peace and safety and finding friends who were trustworthy. Men, it just so happened, were very low on that list.
In the house she showered and changed into a pair of designer jeans, a white blouse, and a fitted blazer. Residents in Nugget didn’t dress up the way they did in Manhattan to go out. Still, Gia saw no reason not to clean up and at least look somewhat fashionable. She was meeting Harlee and Darla, the local hairstylist, at the Ponderosa for happy hour. Dana had introduced them last summer, when Gia had been looking for land. Dana would’ve come too, but she was busy with wedding stuff.
She did one last check in the mirror before leaving and made the fifteen-minute ride to town. There was a parking space right in front of the restaurant, something so foreign to a New Yorker that it made her want to auction the spot off to the highest bidder. Inside the Ponderosa, country-western music played on the jukebox and Harlee and Darla waved excitedly from a table across the dining room. The place was full and a few diners stared and whispered as she made her way back.
“That felt like walking the gauntlet,” she said as she plopped down in one of the chairs.
Darla immediately poured her a margarita from an icy pitcher. “They’re just curious . . . you being new and all, right, Harlee?”
“Of course.”
They all knew that was a lie, but it was generous of Darla and Harlee to try to spare her the humiliation of being a suspected criminal in her new home. “It’s okay. I’m used to it.”
“When do I get the story?” Harlee prodded.
Like everyone else last summer, Harlee had found out that Gia was the mysterious T Corporation. Being an intrepid reporter, she’d planned to rush the scoop to print. Instead, Gia had offered her a deal. An exclusive interview—the first one since the shit hit the fan—as soon as the criminal investigation cooled down. In return, Harlee had promised to hold off writing anything. Because of the death threats, Gia hadn’t wanted the public to know where she was moving. Still didn’t.
“I’d give it to you now,” Gia said, “but the FBI has started snooping around in my life again. They came to Rosser Ranch the other day.”
Harlee and Darla moved in closer so their heads were nearly touching.
“What do you think they want?” Harlee asked.
“I don’t know for sure, but I’m guessing they’re looking for Evan and they think I know where he is.”
“Do you?” Harlee asked.
“Of course not.” Gia’s voice rose above the music. “If I knew, I’d bring him in myself.”
Harlee held up her palms. “Sorry, but I had to ask.”
“Flynn says I need a lawyer.”
“Flynn’s a lawyer; hire him,” Darla said.
“Wrong kind.” Not that she would hire him anyway. Gia took a fortifying slug of her margarita. It was so icy it gave her brain freeze. “He prepares wills and living trusts.”
“He used to be an FBI agent.” Darla refilled Gia’s glass.
Gia’s stomach knotted. FBI? Oh boy. It all made sense now. That was how he’d known the agents who’d come to the ranch. It had nothing to do with him being an estate lawyer. Ah Jesus. The FBI had made her life a living hell and he was probably an informant for them. A snitch.
Anything you tell me could eventually be used against you.
“How do you know that?” Harlee asked Darla.
“He came in last month for a trim and mentioned it.”
Gia knew Darla and her father’s barbershop was gossip central.
“Maybe he could help you,” Harlee said.
He’d made it pretty clear he wanted to do just the opposite. “I don’t think so.”
“Then you’d better get someone. Someone good.”
Fat chance finding a top criminal defense attorney in Nugget. The town had a population of roughly six thousand people, mostly ranchers, railroad workers, and small-business owners. Not a lot of white-collar crime here, at least not that Gia knew of.
“You know anyone?” she asked Harlee, who’d been a big-time reporter in San Francisco before buying the Tribune.
“I could make a few calls.”
“I’d appreciate it.” In the meantime, Gia would call her old attorney for a reference. Even though he could continue to represent her, his services cost an arm and a leg, and it would be better to have someone in California now that she lived here.
A server came and the girls ordered nachos with the works, potato skins, an order of chicken wings, and another pitcher of margaritas. Gia could barely eat. She was too sick over the latest revelation about Flynn. It was like having a spy on her property. Even though she had nothing to hide, it was an invasion of her privacy. Her life had already been examined under a microscope. By the feds, the press, the grand jury, and the public. She’d moved here to find solitude because she couldn’t take anymore. Flynn might be in private practice now, but he’d been part of the agency that had helped tear her life apart.
The thought weighed so heavily on her that she could barely sleep that night, and the next morning she knew exactly what she had to do. After a quick shower she searched through her contact list to find Flynn’s cell number, called him, and got his voice mail.
“This is Gia. I’m not sure if you’re coming to the ranch today, but I need to talk to you as soon as possible. Please call me.” She left both her cell and home numbers.
After pouring a cup of coffee she headed to the stables, hoping to run into Flynn there. Trading today was out of the question; not when she felt so blindsided. Realistically, Flynn didn’t owe her any information about himself. But it seemed that he’d gone out of his way to withhold his background from her. After Evan she only wanted to surround herself with people who were absolutely trustworthy.
There was no sign of Flynn at the barn so she threw both horses flakes of hay and returned to the house. At noon, tired of waiting, she jumped on her computer and found the number for his law office in Sacramento, called it, and asked for Flynn.
“He’s in court today. Would you like to leave a message?”
“Will he come back to the office after court?”
“Yes, he has a four o’clock appointment.”
“No, thanks. I’ll try back later.”
Better yet, she’d surprise him with a visit . . . confront him about the whole thing. Lay down some ground rules. She jotted down his office address, changed into something more suitable for the city, and made the three-hour trip to Sacramento. She’d never been to the state’s capital, but it was a cakewalk to maneuver compared to Manhattan. There was even a parking lot.
Flynn’s building was old but well maintained. She took the elevator in the lobby to the fourth floor. His office, which had two other attorneys listed on the door, occupied the entire space.
A woman with a gray bob and soft blue eyes greeted her at the front desk. “May I help you?”
“I’m here to see Flynn Barlow.”
“Uh, do you have an appointment?” She started scrolling through her computer monitor and Gia considered telling her she was Flynn’s four o’clock.
“No. He runs his cattle on my ranch . . . an emergency has popped up.”
“Oh my.” The woman, who according to her desk plate was Doris, glanced at the clock. “He should be back from court any second but has a meeting.” She pointed at a glass conference room where a distinguished middle-aged man sat. Gia hadn’t noticed him when she first came in.
“That’s okay. I’ll wait.”
“But if it’s an emergency—”
Doris didn’t finish her sentence because Flynn came through the door.
He was in a suit and tie and carried an expensive briefcase. Gia tried to distinguish him from the faded-Levi’s, Stetson-wearing cowboy. As much as she hated to admit it, both looks suited him well. He was without a doubt an extraordinarily handsome man, even if he was a duplicitous one.
“Gia?” He did a double take.
“There’s been an emergency with the cattle,” Doris said. “You want me to cancel your four o’clock?”
A flush crept up Gia’s neck. She could feel the heat like a sunburn. It wasn’t an emergency with the cattle, though she’d sort of intimated that it was. Out of guilt she said, “It’s not that big of an emergency. Go ahead with your meeting. I’ll wait.”
He put down his briefcase and folded his arms over his chest. “Exactly what kind of an emergency?”
“It’s more of an emergency between you and me,” she said and gave him a moment for it to sink in. I know who you are . . . or used to be.
He scrubbed his hand through his hair. He knew she knew. “You drove all the way here for that?”
“You should’ve told me, Flynn.” She tried to rise to his height, but even in her three-inch heels he dwarfed her.
“It’s on my website, Gia. All you had to do was look. Why don’t you go home while you still have sunlight and we can talk about this later?” He glanced at the conference room and gave the man inside the one-minute sign.
“I’ll wait.” She needed to get this off her chest.
“Suit yourself.” Flynn picked up the briefcase and went inside the conference room. She watched him take off his jacket and hang it on the back of a chair.
Doris, whose interest had been piqued, asked if Gia wanted a drink.
Yeah, a good stiff one. “A glass of water would be nice.”
Doris got her the water and Gia wandered the office, examining the artwork—Western scenes of cowboys and cattle. She read Flynn’s bio: the one she should’ve memorized on his website. It really was a nice office. Tasteful and masculine without being stuffy or overly muscular.
A man came out from behind a closed door. Unlike Flynn, he was wearing jeans and a golf shirt. Truth be told, he looked sloppy. The shirt was loose and Gia suspected he was trying to cover his prodigious gut. It wasn’t working. The jeans were saggy and his tennis shoes looked well worn. He turned and gave her a once-over. Not in a disrespectful way, but like he recognized her.
“Hey, you’re Gia Treadwell. I love . . . used to love . . . your show. How you doing?”
“Fine.”
He smiled at her with tobacco-stained teeth, the grin so warm and genuine she couldn’t help but be drawn in. “You waiting for the big guy?”
She presumed he meant Flynn and nodded.
“I’m Toad.” He stuck his hand out for a shake.
“Excuse me, what did you say your name was?”
He laughed and that too . . . well, he just seemed so nice. “You heard right. Toad. It’s an old nickname that just stuck. I’m an investigator here. Hey, I was thinking of buying my nephew a couple of shares of Gamer Guy stock for his birthday. Thought he’d get a kick out of it. Safe bet, right?”
She shook her head. “The company’s way overinflated. How old is he?”
“Twelve.”
“Get him Disney stock. It’s a much better bet.”
“Disney, huh?” He scratched his chin.
“Good revenue growth and solid stock price performance.” She was just thrilled that someone was asking her opinion as opposed to clutching their purse like she’d steal it.
“Really? I hadn’t thought of Disney. I’ll buy a few shares today.”
“Wait until tomorrow and buy in the middle of the day; less volatile.”
“Hey, thanks.” Toad eyed the conference room. “He shouldn’t be much longer.”
“I’m in no rush.”
“You staying around here?”
“Not here, three hours away.”
He glanced at his watch and grimaced. “You’re gonna hit rush hour, which around here isn’t pretty.”
She shrugged. There was nothing she could do about it. Perhaps she’d kill time getting dinner.
“I’ve got to take off, but it was nice meeting you. And thanks for the advice.”
“Nice meeting you too, Toad.” She felt awkward saying his name. Toad.
“Hopefully I’ll be seeing you around.”
Hopefully not. After today she wanted to have as little to do with Flynn Barlow as possible. Instead of being rude, Gia simply nodded. Toad said goodbye to Doris and left. Gia busied herself staring at her phone, reading her personal emails. These days it was mostly her mother who wrote.
A short time later, Flynn and his client came out of the conference room. Flynn walked him to the door and shook his hand. Gia had to say he seemed very professional, not the cocky, loose-limbed, smart-mouthed cowboy who’d helped himself to her shower.
He walked over to Doris’s desk, said something Gia couldn’t hear, and directed her to follow him into his office. It was even nicer than the reception area. There was a large mahogany desk and two upholstered wing chairs on one side of the room and a tufted leather sofa and a cowhide rug on the other. Bookshelves filled with law tomes lined the walls and there were photographs of Flynn and people she didn’t know.
“What’s up, Gia?” He actually had the nerve to sound annoyed.
“What’s up is that you lied to me.” She squinted across the big desk at him. “Why didn’t you tell me that you used to be an FBI agent?”
“First off, I didn’t lie to you. I’m under zero obligation to provide you with my résumé.”
“So you can just come on my property whenever you want and spy on me for the feds?”
“Spy on you? For an educated woman you say some truly stupid things. I’m a criminal defense attorney, Gia. You think I’d have a practice like this”—he spread his arms wide—“if I was still working for the government, acting as its informant? You think that would instill a lot of faith in my clients, especially the ones accused of tax evasion, embezzlement, and money laundering?”
“You said you were an estate lawyer. Another lie.”
“It’s not a lie. I help ranchers, farmers, and vineyard owners with their succession plans; it’s a large part of my practice. You think you might be overreacting again, like you did when you found me in your shower? It seems to be a habit with you. You’re irrational.”
Well, he’d be irrational too if his ex had turned his life upside down. “Forgive me if I have trust issues these days.”
“You’re forgiven.” He leaned back in his chair and gave her a sardonic grin, accentuating the cleft in his chin.
“No matter what I do it seems to make very little difference. Despite the fact that a federal grand jury couldn’t find one iota of wrongdoing on my part, I’m still being investigated. I’ve lost my livelihood and I get threats, even though I was a victim of Evan’s scam too. I moved to seclusion to avoid all that. Now I find out that you were once part of the agency that has made my life a living hell. An agency I have come to detest and distrust with every fiber of my body.”
“I no longer work for the Bureau and wasn’t an agent when they first started investigating you. So your blame is misguided. Do you know where Laughlin is?” He quickly held up his hands. “Don’t tell me. But if you do, you could probably make it all go away . . . with the right lawyer.”
Why do people keep asking me that? “I don’t,” she said, despite his warning. “If I did, I’d find him and ring his thick neck.”
“Look, you have nothing to fear from me.” He eyed her handbag. “You have a dollar in there?”
“Probably. Why?”
“Give it to me.”
“I will not.”
“Gia, just give me the goddamned dollar. You’ll be happy you did.”
She was starting to get where he was going with this and rifled through her wallet until she found a buck.
He took it and stashed it in his top drawer, then smirked. “Now repeat after me, ‘Thanks for the consultation. Although you’re the most brilliant attorney I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, and by far the best-looking, I can’t afford your services.’ ”
“I absolutely will not.”
Flynn chuckled. The pompous man liked messing with her. “No need. I’m now officially bound by attorney-client privilege. If I violate it, I get disbarred. You happy?”
“Definitely about you getting disbarred.”
He shook his head. “It’s weird because you seem so smart and mature on television.”
“It’s all an illusion.” Her lips curved up into a tight grin. She felt somewhat mollified by their little exercise. But Evan had made her distrustful . . . okay, and a little paranoid.
Flynn certainly thought she was unhinged. First by holding a rifle on him and now driving three hours to bitch him out over being a former FBI agent. Even Gia could see where he would think she was unstable. She didn’t used to be like this.
“You have an attractive office,” she said, trying to sound nice . . . reasonable.
“Thanks.” He looked at his watch. “You going home tonight?”
“Yes. Don’t worry about Dude. Dana and Aidan are feeding him.” She’d called Dana on her ride to Sacramento, assuming that by the time she got home it would be past the horses’ dinnertime.
“The couple getting married?” Flynn asked.
“Mm-hmm. Dana was my real estate agent. Aidan works for Cal Fire. They’re very reliable.”
“Two minutes ago you wanted my ass in a sling, now you’re worried about my horse.”
“I would never take out my frustrations on an innocent animal.”
“Good to know. But I hired Justin and Cody, Clay’s kids, to start doing it for me next week so I don’t put you out anymore,” he said, his face buried in a file. “Uh, it’s getting late.”
Gia got to her feet. She certainly knew when she was being dismissed. “Is there a good place to eat around here? Toad said the traffic’s bad. I thought I’d kill some time.”
“So you met Toad, huh?”
“Nice guy.”
“There’s a good Italian place down the block, Mexican two blocks over, and a few good places on J Street. Want me to draw you a map?”
“I’ll find it.”
He got up from his desk. “I’ll let you out. Doris probably locked up when she left.”
At the door Flynn pulled a key from his pocket and turned it in the deadlock. She was halfway down the hall to the elevator when he called to her. “In the evening the neighborhood gets a little sketchy. Give me a second and I’ll walk with you.”
“I’m from New York, Barlow. I can handle it.”
“Yeah, yeah. Just wait for me.”
She went back inside while he put on his jacket and grabbed his briefcase.
“You parked in the lot?”
“Yes, but I thought I’d walk to the restaurant.”
“I’ll walk with you. Which one do you want to go to?”
“How’s the Mexican?”
“The Italian’s better.”
“Italian, then.”
They walked to the end of the block, her heels clicking on the sidewalk. The neighborhood seemed perfectly safe to her. He stopped in front of a place called Don Giovani and opened the door for her. The restaurant was loud and busy. Servers rushing around, bartenders clinking glasses, and patrons standing elbow to elbow in the waiting area.
“Thanks,” she said. “See you around.”
He waved to the maître d’. “Tony, you got a table for two?”
“For you I do.” Tony grinned, grabbed two menus, and showed them to a small booth in the back.
“What are you doing?” she asked when Tony bustled away to help the next customer.
“I just realized I’m hungry. All I have at home is two-week-old Chinese food and canned chili. Besides, who’ll walk you back to your car?”
“Oh please.”
“Hey, you’re free to get your own table.” Right, in a place packed like a sardine can.
She let out a sigh of resignation and perused the menu, starved. “What’s good?”
“Everything. I usually get the chicken parm.”
She got a salad, the veal piccata, and a glass of Chianti. A whole bottle was more what Gia had in mind, but she had to drive. Flynn got a beer and went with his regular.
“You live near here?”
“Not too far.” Way to be vague. Maybe he thought she’d break in and steal the passwords to his bank accounts.
“Sacramento isn’t as big as I thought it was,” she said.
“It’s spread out, like the rest of California.”
“Do you like it . . . Sacramento?”
“I like the mountains better,” he said and took a drink of his beer. “What made you choose Nugget?”
“My family visited on our last ski vacation before my father died. It was our first time visiting California.”
Flynn frowned. “How old were you when he died?”
“Thirteen.” She took a sip of wine.
“That must’ve been tough.”
More ways than he could imagine, Gia thought. “Yep.”
“You must’ve really loved it to come back all these years later.”
“Honestly, I could barely remember what it looked like.” But she remembered how secure life had been in that moment in time and how safe and perfect the world had felt on that vacation. Perhaps she was trying to re-create those feelings. “But when I was looking for land, Nugget came up in some of my searches. Unlike most of California, it was affordable.”
“Why’d you want so much land?” Flynn asked, moving his beer when the food came to make room.
“I didn’t.” She waited for the server to leave before continuing. “But when I saw Rosser Ranch . . . there’s really no earthly way to explain it . . . it was in my soul. The first thing I’d ever wanted that made me feel desperate to have it, like I knew it was part of my destiny. That probably sounds crazy to you.”
“You kidding? My family has been ranching for generations . . . we’re all about the land. But you couldn’t have chosen a worse time to buy something so showy.”
She stopped eating and let out a breath. “I know; boy do I know. Initially I just wanted some acreage and a decent house where I could get away from New York and hide.” Use it as a base to start her residential program and find her center of gravity again. “I set up the T Corporation, hoping to keep the purchase secret.”
As far as she could tell, the general public still didn’t know about Rosser Ranch, but the feds obviously did.
“It’s not like I didn’t have assets before Evan and his Ponzi scheme. I owned a four-million-dollar penthouse, a piece of property in upstate New York, and had stock investments.”
“I don’t think anyone is shocked that you could afford Rosser Ranch. But in the court of public opinion . . . not so good buying a fancy ranch while your boyfriend’s victims are struggling to survive. It’s a little like let them eat cake, you know what I mean?”
She nodded. “Yeah, I know. And believe you me, if I could make the victims whole again, I would.”
They finished dinner and Flynn walked her to her car. If it wasn’t for the fact that they didn’t trust each other, it would’ve felt like a date. Self-conscious, she found herself staring down at Flynn’s black cowboy boots rather than having to make eye contact. The toes were pointy and the black leather was polished to a high shine. Different from the scuffed ones he wore on the ranch.
“You sure you want to drive all the way back to Nugget?” The sun had dropped. Gia estimated she had less than an hour left of daylight.
“I have to be up early. You staying overnight?” On Fridays he usually showed up at the ranch.
“Yep.” He locked gazes with her while they stood in the gravel lot, next to her car.
A wave of sexual tension passed through them. After her combative behavior, Gia doubted he’d invite her over to his place. Oddly enough, though, she sensed he was considering it. But just as quickly his body language changed and a chain-link fence went up between them.
“I’ll wait while you start your car,” he said.
She should’ve been relieved—the wounds left by Evan hadn’t even scabbed over yet—instead she felt an acute disappointment.