Once and Again (8 page)

“Look, I gotta get back to work,” Joe said, jerking his thumb to the back. “Hunter just started with me a couple of weeks ago. He’s an architect, this one, and he wants to get his hands dirty. Promised I’d take him to a site later today. But maybe you want to grab a beer with me later this week?”

“Yeah,” Jake said. “That’d be nice.”

“Good. I’ll text you. Your number still the same?”

“Yep. Yours?”

“You bet.”

“All right then. Thanks.” He turned to leave, just as Dolly came back to the door. He opened it and she came plodding in, making a beeline for Joe.

“Hey Jake?” Joe called.

“Yeah?”

“It’s good to see you again. Really. I’m glad you’re back in town. I hope you’ll be staying for a while.”

“Thanks,” Jake said. “I’m planning on it.”

Carolyn couldn’t believe what she was hearing from Peter Yowls, her family’s attorney. It was the worst possible news—that the case against Worring was going nowhere indefinitely because the man had simply disappeared.

“That—that can’t be right, Mr. Yowls,” she told him. “Are you telling me there’s absolutely nothing we can do?” Things couldn’t be this bad. They just couldn’t.

Yowls, a red-faced man in his mid-fifties, crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against his top-of-the-line Beemer parked in Briarwood’s staff lot. “That’s the state of it, I’m afraid. Charles Worring is missing, and there’s no telling where he is. Unfortunately, he took all his books and documents with him when he skipped out. I have my best private investigator on the case, but everyone else he stole money from is on his trail, too, and so far, no one’s come up with anything. I wish I could do more, but…” Yowls trailed off, undoubtedly to underscore the hopelessness of the situation.

“What about following the money, or…or…electronic tracers or
something.
” Not her area of expertise, but that’s why the Rivingtons had a lawyer—exactly for stuff like this. “Like I keep telling you, we have to find him.” Carolyn hitched her voluminous handbag up onto her shoulder and ignored the chill breeze stinging her face. A few stray leaves blew around the darkened lot, skittering across the concrete. Yowls had pushed for this end-of-week evening meeting, but as soon as he’d started talking, it had all been bad news. “You know the state of our finances, and you also know there are numerous civil cases pending against my father. We can’t just sit around for years and wait! We need to take action now! Track where the money went. Figure out where those dirty books are.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Isn’t the FBI tracking him down, too?”

“They told me that’s confidential information.”

From what Carolyn could gather, Yowls really wasn’t trying that hard to get
any
information, but she couldn’t afford to anger him. “Please, Mr. Yowls. My father is not a well man. Isn’t there anything you can do to expedite matters?”

“Well,” Yowls said, “I’ve been thinking. I
might
be able to do something. But I’ll need your help, too.”

“Of course. Anything.”

Yowls pursed his fleshy lips. “Come to the Cape with me tonight. I have a house. We’ll be alone for the weekend. Do some research. I’ll take care of everything—anything—you need.” He reached out and trailed his hand down her arm suggestively.

Hell no.
Carolyn jerked away, stunned for a few long moments before she finally got her wits about her. “Why don’t you ask your wife to come, too?” she snapped.

“Funny girl. She’s in Acapulco on a holiday. Anyway, she doesn’t care.”

“
I
do, and I’m not for sale.”

“Everyone has a price, and I know yours.”

“You don’t know me at all.” She took a step back. He followed.
God,
she was going to be sick. The subtle touches and sidelong glances Yowls had been giving her for months had been skeeviness, not sympathy.
This is not happening. Not. Happening.
But it was. Because that was how people saw her now. Desperate. Needy. Vulnerable.

There was no one around to help. Those on duty tonight were inside the clubhouse or in the front at the valet parking station. The staff lot was at the rear of the building, far away from any activity. She took another step back, and again, he followed.

“Should I remind you that you’re not in any position to argue?”

“I’m not coming with you.”

Yowls narrowed his eyes. “Look, you can make this easy or you can make this hard. Easy is you come with me now and I’ll do what I can to see that your father gets his money back from Worring, which might take years, by the way, and I’ll do my best to clear his name. Hard is I quit, and you have no one to help you. Then in a few months you come crawling back to me anyway. I can’t guarantee I’ll be as generous then.”

“I’ll find someone else to represent us,” she said, continuing to back away.

“Who?” he said, moving forward. “You have no money to pay a new attorney.”

“Someone who’ll take this case on contingency.”

Yowls actually laughed. “That won’t happen. And if by some miracle you can manage to scrape together a retainer, I can guarantee you no lawyer of substance will want in. This case is a dog.”

“Why did
you
take it on, then?” she challenged.

“As your father’s attorney for years, I felt it was my duty to stand by him in his hour of need,” Yowls said, his voice dripping with sanctimony. “If only he’d heeded my advice, your family wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

The back door of the clubhouse was many yards away. She’d never seen Yowls like this and had no idea what he was capable of doing, but she definitely didn’t want to stick around to find out.

“My father was misled by Worring and shown doctored numbers for years,” she said, backing up but trying to make it look casual. “The fraud was all-encompassing and well planned. He was lied to and duped, and he paid for it with every cent we had. And if you don’t truly believe in the merits of this case, you shouldn’t be representing my family!”

“So you
do
have a brain in that pretty little head of yours,” he mused. “Let me help you.” He moved close enough so that she could feel his breath on her face, wet and utterly repulsive.

“Help by screwing both me
and
my father? No thanks.” Carolyn balled her hands into fists and forced herself to look him dead in the eye.
Need to escape.
“Walk away now, or you’re going to be very, very sorry.”

In response, he gave her an oily smile that only served to anger her further.

“I’ll report you to the Bar Association!”

“Be my guest. They won’t take anything you—or anyone else in your family—say seriously.”

She clenched her fists more tightly. “The Rivington name still means something.”

“Not without the money to back it up.” Yowls smirked. He jerked his head over to his car. “Now be a good girl and get in.”

Rage swept through her veins, thick and hot. Yowls had waited until she was at her most defenseless to show his true colors, but if he thought she was helpless, he was in for a rude surprise. Just as he reached for her arm, Carolyn swung her heavy handbag into his groin. Fortunately, last spring’s models were large and bulky. At the impact, he yelped and grabbed his privates. Quickly, she turned and fled across the parking lot.

When she reached the safety of the door, she braved a glance back. He was still standing there, and even in the dark she could see the furious expression on his florid face.

“You’re fired!” she yelled at him, her voice echoing into the night. “And if you come near me again, I’ll call the police!”

“You can’t fire me, sweetheart.”

Yowls started to stalk toward her, and she drew back, directly into a man’s hard chest. She turned and came face-to-face with Jake Gaffney, angrier than she’d ever seen him.

Before she could speak, Jake stepped in front of her and pulled her behind him. Peter Yowls was now maybe twenty feet away from the door and moving forward fast.

One hand steady on her arm, holding her in place, Jake faced down Yowls. “You heard the lady. You’re fired. So get the hell out of here.”

Yowls stopped, immediately snapping into lawyer mode. “We were merely having a discussion,” he said smoothly. “I just need to talk to her.”

“I have the cops on speed dial,” Jake said. “Take another step and you’ll be arrested for trespassing, not to mention assault and harassment.”

“Who are you?” Yowls challenged.

“Someone you really don’t want to fuck with,” Jake said, his voice laced with menace.

“But I’m—”

“Get off my property,” he growled. He released Carolyn’s arm and took a step forward. “Now.”

Yowls sized up the situation. It took him only a moment to decide. He hastened back to his car, slammed the door shut, and peeled out of the parking lot, tires burning rubber.

When he was gone, Jake turned back to her. “What the hell was that?” he demanded.

“It won’t happen again, I swear,” Carolyn said quickly. “I didn’t mean to cause such a disturbance. Please don’t fire me because…”

“Stop it, Caro,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut. “Just stop.” His hands were clenched into fists. His jaw was tight, too, under the prickle of stubble.

She stopped, mostly because he’d used his old nickname for her and she hadn’t heard it come out
quite
like that before—raspy and rough and more than a little pissed off. He opened his eyes. “I’m calling the cops. That dude deserves to be arrested.”

“Don’t. I—I don’t want to make a bigger deal of it than it actually was.”

“Some guy about to maul you in my parking lot is a big deal,” he said, whipping out his cellphone.

“No, please don’t call,” she said, reaching for the phone. And then she realized her hands were shaking like crazy.

Jake must have noticed, too. “Jesus, Carolyn, come on.”

He led her inside to one of the low benches lining the hallway and guided her to sit. She felt a little lost, so she clutched her purse to her chest and stared at a spot on the worn rug while she waited for the pit in her stomach to go away. It didn’t.

“I’m fine. Really, I’m fine. I just need to get home. That’s what I was going to do anyway, before Mr. Yowls…I mean…I wasn’t expecting him to do that. I’m really sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. I saw what happened from my office window.” He sat down beside her and seemed to hesitate a bit before gently placing his palm on her back. “Breathe,” he told her. She breathed, wondering why his touch was so calming. After what she’d just been through, it should be unwelcome, but the warmth seeping from his hand was actually a comfort. “And I’m not going to fire you because of what some fuckwad did, got that? Just keep breathing. You look like you’re going to pass out.”

She continued to breathe as deeply as she could.

“I’m good now,” she said after a few more moments had passed. Still mortified at what had happened, she couldn’t look at him. “I just want to go home.”

“No way can you drive. Let me call someone to take you. Your dad?”

“He’s in the hospital right now. Heart attack.”

“Mom?”

“She died a year ago of ovarian cancer.”

“Holy shit, Caro. What about Blair?”

“She’s in Africa.”

“Danielle?”

“In L.A.”

“Any friends?”

“Not really, no.” None outside of work that she could call.

“Then I’m taking you home.” Zero hesitation, of course. The new Jake.

“No. You can’t.”

“Look,” he said, “I won’t call the cops, fine. But I’m not letting you drive, and getting a cab this time of night way out here will be a total bitch. You’re out of options.”

“My car…”

“Leave it. I’ll have a driver come for you in the morning.”

“Okay,” she said, mostly to get him to stop grilling her. She stood up and let him escort her to his truck. He climbed into the cab and pointedly watched while she buckled herself in.

Without speaking, Jake drove to the Rivington mansion, all the way at the end of Owenoke Street, right on Long Island Sound. Jake had never been inside, but of course he’d never been invited.

Jake parked his car at the end of the long driveway, close to the house. He switched off the engine but flicked the headlights back on, providing just enough light for them not to be shrouded in darkness. Carolyn didn’t move to take off her seat belt, just sat there for a few moments, toying with the bottom of her skirt. The hem was fraying. Maybe she could take it up another quarter-inch so it wouldn’t show.

“You know, I didn’t even ask if you still lived here,” Jake finally said.

“The house is mine, now. My mother left it to me in her will.” She looked up at the sprawling Colonial, its familiar faded blue siding and its weathered dark wood roof more depressing than comforting. “I hate being here. It just reminds me of her. But I’m grateful to have a place to live.” Since her family had lost everything else, this was the only place they had left. Strange that a little over a year ago, they’d had seven properties in three different countries. Now, even her Upper East Side Manhattan apartment seemed like a distant memory. “So I guess you want to know who that guy was.”

“Yeah.”

“Our family’s attorney, Peter Yowls.”

“You mean former attorney.”

She turned to him. “You heard me fire him? I’ve never done anything like that before in my life.” She’d been protected. Sheltered. Her privilege was an embarrassment…and an impediment. It had barely taught her how to deal with the real world.

“He deserved more than just to be fired. I was serious about calling the cops.”

“Please don’t.” She shook her head. “It’ll make things so much worse. I just want to move on. Hire a new lawyer.” She paused. “Unfortunately, he was the only one I knew.”

“You’re making a mistake.”

“I’ve made so many already,” she said. “One more’s just a drop in the bucket.” After her mother died, she’d been doing her best to keep her family together and restore the Rivington name, but she sure hadn’t made good choices up to that point. Her life had consisted of charity balls and work she hadn’t taken seriously at all. And no one had taken her seriously, either. When her family had gotten into trouble, her old friends disappeared overnight.

“Everybody makes mistakes,” Jake said with a shrug. “You learn from them and move on.”

“How do you move on?”

He held out one arm and shoved his shirtsleeve up, displaying intricately inked patterns and drawings. “Like this.”

“You get tattoos?”

“Yeah. Once the ink’s on me, I can move on. It’s kind of cathartic, I guess.”

She met his gaze. “You must have made a lot of mistakes.”
Like me.

“Fuck yeah,” he said, tugging his sleeve down. “But not everything they represent is bad. Some are for when I’ve lost, sure, but some are for when I’ve won. Keeps me sane. Keeps my ego in check.”

“I don’t remember you having much of an ego at all.”