Chapter 23

Ryan slipped into the Trenton jail and pulled his wallet from his jacket pocket, slipping a driver’s license from the plastic sleeve. The bored-looking clerk glanced at the ID.

“Help you?”

“Yes, I’m here to see Paulina Curtis.”

“Are you her attorney?”

“No, ma’am. I work for her attorney’s office. I’m here to get a preliminary statement.” He withdrew a sheet of paper from his briefcase and passed it through, then held up a fake badge identifying him as an “administrative aide.” Watching as the woman looked at the IDs, he smiled winningly and waited.

Disinterested, the woman shoved a sign-in sheet through the window. “Sign in, then step into the room to the right. I’ll have her brought out.”

Ryan signed the false name on the sheet, took his ID back, and walked into the room to wait. Within five minutes a guard brought Paulina. Raking his gaze over the skinny woman with frizzy blonde hair, Ryan sighed.

“Good morning, Ms. Curtis. My name is Adam Garabedian. I work for the Public Defender’s office.”

Paulina glared at Ryan through the glass window. “I didn’t ask for a lawyer. Can’t afford one.”

Smoothly, Ryan removed his round spectacles and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping the clear plastic lenses before replacing them on his nose. It was the little things, he knew, that made an identity different from his own.

“I’m not a lawyer, ma’am. I just work for one. I’m here to get your statement about what happened the night before last at…” He purposely trailed off and fumbled with his folder as if looking for the name of the salon. “Vive. That’s the one.”

Paulina huffed a sigh and dropped onto the metal stool anchored to the floor. “I broke in. Beckett McKenzie, the bitch owner of the place, fired me because she didn’t like me working extra hours at night to earn some more money. She hated that a lot of us didn’t turn in the money we were making for her piece of it, so she made us all employees and took away our right to set our own prices and hours. When she found out I was still working off-book, she fired me.”

“Sounds like a reasonable thing to do. Everyone needs extra money. Were you angry when you were fired?”

“I was pissed off. I started applying for other jobs, but I’d worked there for so long that all the salons wanted to call Vive for a reference. When they did, Beckett was telling them not to hire me. She made it so I couldn’t get work anywhere. I confronted her about it, she defended herself and even said I wasn’t welcome there anymore. Like I’d ever go back to that hack house!”

Ryan smiled. “I don’t blame you one bit. What happened then?”

Clearly enjoying the opportunity to tell her story, Paulina leaned forward and braced her elbows on the metal counter. “I waited until I thought everyone had gone home, and then I used my key to get in. I guess they didn’t change the locks.”

Ryan made a noncommittal sound and managed to maintain a mild expression and tone. “Isn’t there a keypad or something?”

“It’s a badge swipe. When I came in that day, I nabbed Beckett’s secretary’s badge from her desk and used it and the key to get past the security system. I was just going to trash her office. I grabbed the scissors from the desk and sliced up her chairs. They were ugly anyway. Then I broke her laptop and ripped up a bunch of her paperwork and books. Why in the world does a salon manager have books in her office? It’s not like the woman knows how to read!”

Chuckling, Ryan made notes in his folder. “Did you see anything out of the ordinary while you were in the office? Or notice anything strange during your tenure there? Did Mrs. McKenzie ever come to work under the influence of anything or harass any of the employees?”

“Other than me? Not that I saw. Lately she’s been weird. There are some rumors her dead husband isn’t dead. I say I can’t blame the fucker for taking off and leaving her. I wouldn’t want to be married to such a hag, either. They say he faked his own death just to get away from her and go live somewhere with one of his girlfriends. I hope he broke her heart. Better yet, I hope he’s still alive and shows back up here to wave his hot side piece under her nose. Maybe he could take the kids from her, too. That would really show her.” Satisfied with the fantasy, Paulina thumped her fist on the counter enthusiastically.

“What about the allegations of drug use?”

Taking the bait, Paulina’s head snapped up. “What allegations?”

Working one finger into his collar in a way meant to make the woman think he was nervous, Ryan cleared his throat. “Oh. I shouldn’t have said anything. I thought you knew.”

“What allegations?” She leaned forward until her nose almost pressed against the window. “Is Beckett using drugs? Or dealing them? God. That’s almost too good.”

“Did you ever see anything that leads you to believe she was? Has there ever been any prostitution in the salon?”

Paulina dismissed that with a wave of her hand. “We got the occasional creep who wanted a hand job, but no one ever did it that I know of. If they had, Beckett would have fired them. No, she’s above board on that stuff, as much as it pains me to admit it.”

Ryan looked back at the blank folder. “One last thing. Do you know if Beckett McKenzie has a safe or a deposit box or a PO box anywhere she might hide any evidence of illegal activity?”

Paulina pursed her lips and thought back over her years at the salon. “She keeps the money from the till in a safe in her office. It’s behind the god-awful painting of lilies behind her desk. I don’t know the code.”

Ryan nodded and rose. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Curtis. I’ll type up my notes and get them back to the attorney handling your case.”

“What about those allegations?”

Conspiratorially, Ryan leaned in. “Between you and me, I’ve heard your boss is involved with a drug cartel. Cocaine. Very dangerous stuff.”

****

Beckett made her way from one area of the salon to the other, emptying the cash registers, counting out the base for each register to keep, and putting the money in a bank bag for deposit. In a separate bag went the credit card receipts for processing. Aware of the whispered musings of her staff about her black eye, she chose to ignore the talk and worked her way back around to her office, dropping the credit card bag onto the desk and sitting down with the bag of cash to count it.

Counting all the money, subtracting what was left in each drawer and comparing those numbers to the sales reported in the POS system took the better part of two hours. By the time she was done reconciling the receipts in the credit card bag, processing all the tips on cards, and had updated her spreadsheets with the total from the week, half the afternoon was gone.

More than anything, Beckett hated math. Keeping track of the daily, weekly, and monthly tills was something she hoped to hand off to Halle sooner rather than later.

Jenny, the new administrative assistant, poked her head in the door. “Beckett? Do you have a minute?”

Beckett waved the woman in. “Sure. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to let you know there’s a little bit of a problem in massage. One of the technicians just called over and said there’s someone demanding sexual acts from Randi. Joan says Randi’s about ready to beat the man to death.”

A highly inappropriate laugh tickling her throat, Beckett rose. “I’ll handle it.”

Jenny bounced on the balls of her feet. “Can I watch?”

“Sure. You might learn something.”

****

As the two women strode down the hall, Ryan entered the salon’s front door and went immediately to Beckett’s office, pulling the door closed behind him. Working quickly, he removed the picture on the far wall and plugged a small device into the keypad on the safe. Within ten seconds, the lights flashed green and the pistons rolled loose, and the door swung open. Carefully, he placed an envelope in the safe, tucking it under the bags of receipts and cash. Closing the door and replacing the photo, he laid a folded piece of paper on the desk and slipped out as unnoticed as he’d entered.

****

When Beckett returned to the office half an hour later, still laughing over the issues in the massage parlor, she dropped into her desk chair, scooting her butt to avoid the sharp edge poking her where Paulina had hacked at it, and surveyed the wreckage that was her office. Deciding on a whim to take the rest of the day and haul out the remnants before buying replacements, she kicked her heels off under the desk and stood.

Noticing a piece of paper on her desk that hadn’t been there when she’d left the office, she picked it up and unfolded it, her eyes scanning over the contents. Recognizing the handwriting immediately, she pushed the intercom button on her phone and paged Jenny.

“Call Clint Rogers and my brothers-in-law please. Tell them it’s important and they’re needed here immediately.”

“It’s one in the afternoon. Caleb will be in class.”

“Then the other two. And ask Savi to come down here from the café if you would.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Slowly, Beckett read the note, letting the words sink in.

Beckett,

Long time no see. I wish our reunion would be more pleasant, but unfortunately we both find ourselves in untenable positions. In your safe, there is an envelope. Don’t worry, there’s nothing illegal in there. I have, however, given you a couple of tasks. The Malatoa cartel is not going away, and because they now know I’m not dead, they’re after me as well. That is unacceptable. While it would have been unfortunate, I was willing to accept that they might find you. Collateral damage, if you will. I did not anticipate them getting to Robbins first, or him getting to you before I could neutralize the situation. That was an oversight on my part that has led to this situation.

Because I have some fondness for our children, I want to help you out of this mess. In the envelope is the information for some contacts of mine that I have been unable to reach out to given the fact that I am supposed to be dead. If you contact them, they will help you gather enough cocaine to appease the cartel, thereby getting them off both our trails. The irony of the situation for you is that, in order to escape intact, you’re going to have to do what I did. There will be a price for the drugs, but these people are not innately violent and they will allow you to work off your debt to them. I suspect it will involve the salon, your masseuses specifically. Given what you’re currently dealing with—you’re welcome, by the way—I imagine you catch my drift.

This is your way out. It’s your only way out. If you fail to take advantage of this, you will die by the hand of the cartel. The police can’t touch them, and I’m not willing to put myself up on the slaughtering block in your stead. I made the bed, you lie in it.

Your Not-So-Loving Husband

****

“Your not-so-loving husband?” Savi huffed. “What a dick. ‘I made the bed, you lie in it.’ Oh my good Jesus, this man is unbelievable!”

Jax crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame. “If you want to go that route, I’ll contact them. I can offer up the boat to use as a way to transport stuff. I can’t have you risking this place. You’ve got the kids to think about. If this is how it needs to be, I’ll do it.”

Beckett rose and went to Jax, wrapping her arms around him and holding him tightly, resting her head against his neck. He slid his arms around her, resting his cheek on the top of her head.

“I love you, Jackson.” Beckett squeezed him tightly. “But neither of us are going to be risking prison time. I’m not going to do this and neither are you. We’re going to turn the stuff over to the sheriff when he gets here and let him handle it.”

Jax looked down at her when she pulled back. “I’d do it. Hell, Murphy would offer up the shop to take apart cars. We’d both do it. Any one of the three of us would do whatever we needed to help you here. That’s what family does.”

“Family also doesn’t let each other make stupid decisions that could ruin their lives.”

Savi scrubbed her hands over her face before speaking. “I’m with Beck on this one. We don’t know this isn’t a setup. For all we know, Ryan the asshole could have put that stuff in there as a ploy to get Beckett killed. Or to get her arrested and out of his hair. Or any number of things that have nothing to do with helping her out of this. If you can even call it an offer to help in the first place.”

Jax stepped back from Beckett, looking at Savi indignantly. “He wouldn’t do that.”

“How can you say what he would or wouldn’t do?” She questioned him gently. “This is a man who faked his own death, was stealing cocaine from the cartel, has God-only-knows how many identities, and had two wives, three separate families, and untold mistresses. This is not the brother you knew. Yeah, it could be legitimate and he wants to help you. Just as easily it could be a setup to get one of you—or all of you—killed. I don’t think any of us take the risk. It’s too dangerous.”

Clint entered the room just as Savi uttered the last sentence. “I’m afraid I’m likely to agree with her about whatever you’re considering.”

Beckett strode to her desk and picked up the envelope and the paper. Handing them both to Clint, she gingerly perched on one of the sliced up chairs. “I found these when I got back from handling a situation in the massage wing.”

Clint read the note twice, then opened the envelope and removed the cell phone inside. “Have any of you turned this on or messed with it in any way?”

“No. I took it out of the envelope, saw what it was, and put it back. I’m afraid I didn’t wear gloves.”

“I’m not sure fingerprints would be helpful anyway. We know this was Ryan. You have security feeds, right?”

“I sent Jenny to make copies of everything from this morning and bring it down. You’ll have it before you leave. We have cameras on both sides of the door and one aimed at the parking lot, so we may be able to see what he was driving.”

Jax ran his hands through his hair. “He won’t be driving it now. You know that. If he drove here, he’s already ditched the car somewhere so we can’t use it to find him. More likely he took a cab.”

“If he took a cab, we’ll get the number and find out where the driver let him off.” Clint slipped both items he’d been handed into a clear plastic bag. “No one is going to be getting into the drug trade in my town. “The Sheriff leveled a glare at Jax, then at Beckett. “I don’t want to hear any nonsense about chop shops, prostitution rings, or drug muling. For that matter, I don’t want any pot brownies being made in the café over there or any files being baked into cakes.”

When Jax didn’t respond, Clint continued to stare at him, his gaze filled with concern and understanding. Sighing, he reached out and laid his hand on Jax’s shoulder before continuing.

“Jackson, I’ve known you and your brothers since you were in diapers, and you can only imagine how much this business with Ryan pains me. I’ll not see any of the three of you go down the same path. I’ll throw you in a cage and keep you there until clearer heads prevail.” Turning to Beckett and Savi, he continued. “The same goes for the two of you. I haven’t known you as long, but you haven’t made any trouble for me, so I assume you’re good, law-abiding citizens. No illegal activity. Am I clear?”

Uncomfortably chastised, Jax spoke for all of them. “Yes, sir. Crystal clear.”

“Good.” He smiled when Jenny came in with a CD in her hand. “Ah, there’s my footage. I’ll get back to the station and start work on some of this stuff.” He looked back at Beckett. “Can’t say I care for the redecorating, dear. Might be time to replace some of these chairs. They’re looking a little worse for wear if I do say so myself.”