Collateral 2 (Debt Collection) Read online

  Ignoring the interested looks of my coworkers, I fished my iPhone out of my purse and opened the last text I had shared with Ben. My thumbs hovered over the screen as I debated what to tell him. A nagging worry left me feeling unsettled. What if my phone was being tracked by the police? What if they were tapping my phone or had a subpoena for my text messages or email?

  Although Ben and I hadn’t been dating very long, we had already had a few deep conversations about what to do if the police came sniffing around after Calvin. There were only four of us who knew what had happened that night—me, Ben, Marley and Devil. Marley, my best friend in the whole world, would never say a word. She had been raised on the fringes of the criminal underworld and understood the stakes. Devil was part of Ben’s crime family and had taken a blood oath to never hurt the family. As long as I kept my mouth shut, no one would ever know where Calvin really was.

  Deciding I couldn’t risk it, I chose not to say anything to Ben about the detective’s visit. Instead, I sent a message letting him know I had gotten to work and reminding him about dinner. Not expecting an immediate response, I tucked my phone back in my purse and stowed it in the bottom drawer of my desk.

  Finally settling into work, I opened my email and noticed the generic out of office message from Margie. Even though I was burning up with curiosity, I didn’t reply to it. The last thing she needed was her work inbox jammed with nosy messages or her phone going crazy with alerts while she was trying to handle personal business.

  “Everything okay?” Jed, the head analyst and my current mentor asked as he stopped at my desk.

  “Yes,” I said, smiling up at him. “Just a detective who wanted to speak with my stepbrother.”

  Jed made a face. “Is Calvin even allowed on this property? After the picnic fight?”

  I cringed at the memory of Calvin attacking my father and Oliver, our current CEO, at the family picnic the firm hosted every summer. “No, he’s still banned. He won’t show his face here.”

  “Let’s hope not,” Jed remarked, his distaste for Calvin clear. “How’s the studying for your Series 82 coming along? You having any problems?”

  “No. The study guide is straight forward. I feel pretty confident about the exam.”

  “Good. What are you working on today?”

  “I’m digging into some financial reports for Roberta.”

  “When you finish those, come by my office. I’d like you to work with me on a deal I’m putting together.”

  I didn’t even try to suppress the smile that overwhelmed me. “Really?”

  “Yes. Really,” he said with a laugh. “You’re the one who gave me the idea.”

  “Oh?”

  “India.”

  “Oh!” It had been a little seedling of an idea I had thrown out during a brainstorming lunch a few weeks ago. By chance, I had been talking to a guy in my cohort who had grown up in Bangalore. My curiosity about the city had sent me down an internet rabbit hole that eventually led me to a struggling but promising office park that looked like something the firm could buy and grow into something really big and profitable.

  “You have good instincts. Just like your dad,” he added with a fond look. “You’re ready to start working on some bigger projects. We promised your dad we would mentor you and help you reach your full potential. It’s time for the next step.”

  “Okay. Thank you.” After Jed left, I couldn’t stop smiling. The pride I felt in earning my place at my father’s firm filled me with such happiness. Working here, walking the same halls and sitting in the same rooms he had, helped me keep the connection alive. I missed him so very much, and I hoped that he would be proud of me now, of the hard work and extra hours I put into my job. Disappointing him or tarnishing his legacy was the very last thing I wanted.

  The very real possibility that the ugly business with Calvin could do just that wiped the smile right off my face. No matter how many times Ben assured me that no one would ever find out what had really happened to Calvin, I would never truly believe it. There was always a possibility that someone else knew what had happened.

  What if Devil had been seen? What if Calvin had told someone where he was going? What if he had a partner who suspected something? What if someone found the body?

  I could just imagine Calvin’s sadistic glee at my predicament. It was almost as if he had planned this eventual outcome. Even in death, he was still tormenting me. Even in death, he was going to win.

  But I couldn’t let him win. It wasn’t only me at risk. Ben and Marley, the two people who meant the most to me in the whole world, would be hurt if the truth were ever uncovered. I couldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t let that happen.

  Whatever the cost, Calvin and the secrets that he had taken with him had to stay buried.

  Chapter Four

  Surrounded by the sound of pneumatic tools and loud music, Ben focused on the notepad in front of him as he tried to decipher Devil’s shit handwriting. He tried to make sense of the customer’s complaint. “Dev!”

  Across the shop, Devil looked away from the Chevy he was standing under and shouted, “What?”

  Ben waved the ticket. “The fuck does this say? The car does what at red lights?”

  He smirked, his burned skin stretching taut. “Dances the cha-cha.”

  “What?”

  “Dances the cha-cha,” Devil said, swiveling his jean-clad hips in an outrageous way that made Ben instantly uncomfortable.

  “Fucking stop that now,” Ben ordered as the other guys in the shop laughed.

  Devil shrugged his wide shoulders and reached for another tool. “That’s what the old broad said. That’s what I wrote down. It’s the transmission.”

  Shaking his head, Ben entered what the customer had said into the shop computer. Reading farther down the ticket, he spotted Devil’s diagnosis of transmission issues and finished inputting all the parts and labor costs to compile an estimate.

  “The car dances the cha-cha,” he muttered, thinking of all the crazy shit customers said when dropping off their vehicles. He waited for the estimate to print and set it aside for Jeannie to handle when she got back from her lunch break. He picked up the next ticket and glanced at the writing, this time from Jet. It was even worse than Devil’s. Loudly, he announced, “I’m going to start a remedial handwriting class for you lazy ass bastards!”

  “It’s a miracle most of them can read,” Besian remarked as he strode into the shop. “Don’t push your luck with handwriting.”

  Ben glanced back at Besian. “Let me finish this ticket, and we’ll talk?”

  Besian nodded and made the rounds of the shop, stopping to speak with some of the mechanics he had known for years. Ben printed out the estimate and put it in the pile waiting for Jeannie before heading into his office and dropping into the chair behind his desk. Besian followed a few minutes later, closing the door behind him and sitting on the empty chair across from Ben.

  “I talked to everyone I could think of,” Ben said. “No leads. You?”

  Besian shook his head. “Nothing.”

  Ben opened the top drawer of his desk and grabbed the pack of gum he kept stowed there. “Have you had a chance to talk to Kostya?”

  “Not yet,” Besian said, gesturing for Ben to hand him some gum. “I’m seeing him later. I’ll ask if one of his little spiders can hack into any security or traffic cameras around the crash site.”

  “It was a small game, at least.” Ben tried to find something to cheer up the boss.

  “Sixty-seven grand,” Besian answered with a long sigh. He winced and rubbed the spot where he had been shot months earlier. “It won’t ruin us. It barely hurts us. Financially,” he clarified. “But it’s a black eye and an embarrassment. We can’t even keep our money safe. How the fuck do we convince our clients that we can keep them safe while gambling with us?”

  “It’s one theft. One. In all the years you’ve been running the gambling scene in town, you’ve never had a problem like this. People
know you. They trust you. You’re the only high-end game in town. The only game with real money. What are your clients going to do? Travel to Vegas? The casinos in Louisiana?”

  “They might,” Besian insisted stubbornly.

  “They won’t.” Ben flicked his balled-up gum wrapper into the trashcan. “I talked to Devil about changing up our routes and drivers. We’ll be on alert.”

  “Make sure our guys aren’t trigger happy. The last thing we need is someone getting shot accidentally.”

  “I’ll relay your concerns.”

  “I doubt we’ll get hit again,” the boss said, his fingers tapping against his knee. “If this is the start of some kind of spree, the robbers will hit another outfit. They’ll know we’re going to step up security.”

  “That was my thinking, too.”

  “Of course, that brings other problems,” Besian continued. “If the robbers are targeting people like us,” he gave Ben a look, “we’ll draw police interest. That’s not good for anyone. It’s terrible for all of our businesses.”

  “Hopefully, it was just a one-time thing.” Ben didn’t want to even imagine how dangerous the streets would get if a robbery crew started hitting the underworld.

  Besian gestured toward Ben’s head. “You didn’t get your hair cut.”

  “I was busy all morning trying to track down your money. We’re slammed out in the shop.” He reached up to touch the long ends of his hair. “I’ll get it done.”

  “Where is the wedding?”

  “The Bell Tower.”

  “Very nice place,” Besian remarked. “You love this girl.”

  Ben nodded. “Yes.”

  “So, don’t embarrass her tomorrow,” Besian counseled. “If you need to brush up on your etiquette, go see Alina. She’ll make sure you know which fork to use first and what conversation topics are safe. These high-class weddings are all about image. If you look the part, people will think you belong there.”

  It wasn’t a bad idea. “I haven’t seen Alina in a few weeks. I owe her a visit,” Ben admitted, feeling a bit guilty for not carving out time for his surrogate mother.

  “She’ll be happy to see you. She’ll want to hear all about your girl.”

  Ben made a face. He hadn’t told anyone, especially not Aston, but he had discovered her father had once been a client of Alina’s. It had been an accident, his discovery, but now that he knew, it made him uncomfortable. “Alina’s going to worry about me moving too fast with Aston.”

  Besian regarded him for a moment. “Do you think you’re moving too fast?”

  “No,” he answered immediately. “It feels right. All of it.”

  Besian seemed to hesitate before asking, “Do you remember what you told me? About not being careful with her?”

  Ben remembered. He had confessed to not using protection during their first night together. “She wasn’t pregnant.”

  “Good. Wrap it up,” Besian ordered. “Don’t shame your mother by knocking up this girl before she has a ring on her finger and your last name.”

  Ben shifted uneasily at the thought of shaming his late mother. She had been a single mom, abandoned by his father and left to fend for herself. He would never do that to any woman he dated. Before she had died, he had promised her that he would be a good husband and father. He intended to keep that promise.

  “She may not want my last name,” Ben pointed out, wanting to see how the boss would react to that.

  “She has to,” Besian insisted.

  Ben laughed. “You need to read those books you bought earlier. You’re going to be shocked when you find out that some women don’t. Hell, some men take the last names of their wives.”

  “The fuck they do,” Besian grumbled and checked his watch. Standing up, he said, “I have a meeting at the bank.”

  “What are you buying now?”

  Besian smirked. “That’s my secret.”

  Ben scoffed. “Keep your secrets. I have enough of my own to carry.”

  “Stop putting your phone on silent at night,” Besian ordered as he reached for the door. “Jet couldn’t reach you this morning. I was—we—were worried.”

  Ben noticed the quick correction. Ever since his shooting, the boss had been slightly more open with his feelings. It was uncomfortable for most of the crew. They weren’t exactly the most emotionally well-adjusted men.

  “Check in with me later.”

  “Yeah.” Ben didn’t follow him out. He stayed at his desk and glared at his list of tasks that still needed to be complete. His stomach growled, reminding him that he had skipped breakfast. Hungry, he left his office and sought out Devil who had finished his job on the Chevy. “You hungry?”

  “Always,” Devil rasped. “What do you want?”

  “Pho?”

  “Sure.” Devil gestured with his dirty hands toward his toolbox. “Let me finish up. I’ll drive.”

  Ben spotted Jeannie returning from her lunch break and joined her at the workstation where she had paused to gather up the invoices. In her usual grandmotherly way, she asked him if he had eaten lunch yet and then all but shooed him out the door, reminding him that she had managed her husband’s shop for forty years and could handle this one for an hour. He swiped his sunglasses from the top of his toolbox and walked out to Devil’s truck.

  As he waited, he checked his phone for any new messages from Aston. She hadn’t sent anything since letting him know she’d gotten to work. That wasn’t unusual on days where she was busy. Even so, he was deflated by the sight of his empty inbox.

  “Usual place?” Devil asked as he unlocked the truck with his key fob.

  “Yeah.” Ben tucked his phone back into his pocket and got into the front passenger seat.

  “What did the boss want?” Devil pulled out of his parking spot and headed for the nearest side street.

  “Following up on the robbery,” Ben said. “He doesn’t have any leads either.”

  “I don’t think we’ll ever find them.” Devil paused at a blinking yellow before turning left. “Anyone stupid enough to hit us is going to be very quiet about it.”

  “If they’re smart,” Ben agreed.

  “But?”

  “I don’t know.” He scratched at an oil stain on his jeans. “I don’t think the people who robbed us are done yet.”

  “Why?”

  “They didn’t even get seventy grand. That’s not very much money, not compared to the risk. You hit someone us like us? You do it because you’re desperate and you need big money fast.” He shook his head. “I have a feeling the people who hit us need more cash.”

  “Everyone in this town needs more cash,” Devil grumbled. “Except you.”

  Ben frowned. “Aston’s money is hers.”

  “For now.”

  “Forever,” he countered. “I’m not interested in her money.”

  “Everyone is interested in her money.”

  “Not me.”

  Devil shot him a look as they idled at a red light. Finally, he said, “No, not you.”

  “Fucking right,” Ben growled. He didn’t like having his motives questioned when it came to Aston. He especially didn’t care to be compared to any of the assholes who wanted to use her for the perks of her wealth. If she lost everything tomorrow, he wouldn’t love her any less. He’d live in a cardboard box under a fucking bridge with her.

  They didn’t talk as Devil pulled into a parking space in the lot of the rundown strip mall where Phan’s, their favorite noodle shop, was located. Not a word was said as they walked into the restaurant and waited in line to order at the busy counter. He got his usual—a No. 1 dac biet—and moved up to the register to pay. Devil shouldered him out of the way, pulling out his wallet and paying for their meal. Ben recognized it as his friend’s way of making amends for the shit he had talked in the truck.

  They found two seats near the windows at the front of the shop. Ben had just cracked apart his chopsticks when he heard squealing wheels. He glanced out the floor to ceiling
window just in time to see a red truck heading right for the column outside. Jumping to his feet, he grabbed a handful of Devil’s shirt and jerked him toward the floor.

  Screams of terror echoed in the small noodle shop as the truck slammed into the column and then through the window. Glass exploded all around them. The building shuddered and seemed to be crashing down around them. Somehow, they ended up beneath a table that protected them from the worst of it.

  Breathing hard and coughing on the dust filling the air, Ben winced at the nonstop horn blaring into the restaurant. The sounds of crying and shouting filled the air. Soaked in burning hot broth, he wiped at his face and chest. He looked at Devil and cursed under his breath when he saw the stream of blood running down his friend’s face. “You’re bleeding.”

  “No shit?” Devil replied sarcastically. “Are you—”

  Gunshots interrupted him. Ben threw his hands over his head and tried to make himself as small as possible on the floor. Screams. Gunshots. It was one gun at first—short cracks—and then two guns returning fire. Zastava. He recognized the two guns answering with sharp bursts of fire. There were crates of M88s coming into Houston, most of them funneled out of Serbia. He had one in his nightstand and another as a throwaway he kept at the shop, just in case.

  Was it someone from their crew shooting up the place? Was it the Russians? What the hell was happening out there?

  There was a pause in the gunfire and then two loud blasts from a shotgun. A few seconds later, tires squealed as a vehicle peeled out of the parking lot. Ben waited a few heartbeats before climbing to his feet. He shifted the table out of the way and helped Devil stand. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” Devil wiped the blood out of his eyes with his bare hand and rubbed the blood on his jeans.

  Ben’s gaze settled on the red truck now sitting in the restaurant. Was this the red truck? The same one from the robbery?

  A pained cry tore his attention away from the truck. Heart thumping with adrenaline, Ben stumbled over to the nearest overturned table and helped an older woman off the floor. Blood seeped out of a gash in her leg. After helping her into a chair, he grabbed a handful of napkins and pressed them onto the woman’s leg. Behind him, Devil mirrored his actions, helping an old man who had been trapped under a table and half a pane of broken glass. Other patrons who could still move were following suit.