Falling In (22 page)

Chapter 29

Cover

To protect a piece, perhaps by placing the king in check

It was bitterly cold on Monday when Lucian returned to the city. Climbing out of the limo, he hustled up the steps to Patras, the blustery wind chapping his cheeks in the mere seconds it took him to reach the warm interior of the lobby.

“Good morning, Mr. Patras,” numerous attendants greeted as he passed quickly to the elevators. Sniffles and coughs filled the air, mixing with the low chatter of normal check-in traffic. Winter had arrived.

Entering the condo he found his mail and several messages awaiting him. He checked his phone and saw that Slade and Jamie would be arriving any minute. As he sorted through the mail, the soft chime of the elevator sounded and he moved to answer the door.

“Shit, it's miserable out,” Jamie said as he undid his coat and tossed it over the back of a chair. Slade moved with quiet stealth, not needing to state the obvious like Jamie so often did.

“You guys eat?” Lucian stacked the mail on the heap of papers on his desk for later.

“I'm good. Coffee would be welcome though.”

Coffee was ordered and they jumped right into business. Jamie took the signed contracts he'd been waiting for and Slade sighed with relief. This deal was one they'd all been anxious to conclude.

Papers were sealed in envelopes and a messenger arrived to deliver them directly to the Realtor finalizing the deal.

“Well, it's good to see that finally over,” Jamie said, leaning back and exhaling a long-held breath.

Slade snickered. “It's just beginning now. This is going to be a nightmare once we get into zoning.”

“It'll be fine,” Lucian commented, wanting to move on to more important issues. “Slade, I'm having a shipment of winter clothing sent over to St. Christopher's tomorrow. I spoke to Paula and she said to check with you to make sure someone's there to receive the delivery.”

Slade's expression became unreadable. An unsavory sense of dread ran through Lucian's veins.

“What?” he asked, knowing this wouldn't be good.

Slade, always so in command of himself, actually stuttered. “Uh, Luche, I'm not sure what Paula told you, but we've sort of been battling hard with the fire inspector lately.”

“She mentioned that. I'm going to send a crew over there to see what needs to be done and have everything taken care of.” There was no sign of relief in Slade's expression. “What?”

The other man squirmed uncomfortably, then stood, walking his coffee cup to the tray and reaching for his coat. “There's nothing that could've been done at this point. Our donors are tapped with the upcoming holiday and recent surplus of residents.”

Irritated at his inability to get to the point, he gritted, “Spit it out, Slade. What are you getting at?”

“They barred the doors on Black Friday. The sprinkler system failed inspection and the fire inspector condemned the building.”

Pressure built between Lucian's ears as a sudden red rage blurred his vision. He lunged at Slade, fisting his lapels and jerking him against the table. Jamie shouted and grabbed his shoulders. “You knew! You fucking knew this was going to happen and you didn't tell me!” he growled in his face.

Jamie ripped him off of Slade and he panted, ready to spring back at him again. Slade batted the wrinkles out of his jacket then glared at him. “What fucking difference does it make, Lucian? Another shelter will open eventually and they'll all move on. She's fucking homeless! Do you understand what that means? They're filthy and thieves and addicts—”

Lucian shoved Slade and he shoved back. Jamie jumped between them.
“Enough!”
Jamie shouted. “This is bullshit! Both of you back the fuck up.”

They each took a step back and scowled at one another.

“Fuck you, Slade,” Lucian spat. “She isn't like that.”

He was a hypocrite, helping the homeless from afar, but never really believing they deserved to join the ranks of the working class. It was the same self-serving, pompous bullshit the rest of the upper class pretended at to make them feel less like rich snobs. Evelyn may not be upper class, but she didn't belong on the streets.

The sense of being betrayed cut through him. Evelyn was right. Slade didn't like her. But this was more than a matter of taste or his sensitive feelings regarding Monique's memory. This was an act of Judas.

“I don't get you man,” Slade said, shaking his head. “What did you expect to gain from associating with her? She doesn't have a clue about our world. You see this doll you've dressed up and fucked, but you're missing the big picture. I don't even want to think who's visited that well before you.”

Lucian hadn't realized he moved. He only registered the sharp sting of Slade's face slamming into his knuckles.

“Get the fuck out of my home!”

Slade glared up at Lucian from where he was sprawled across the table. Dabbing the corner of his lip gingerly, he licked a bit of blood and spit on his carpet.

“You've changed, Lucian. She's a poor excuse for Monique, but you'll realize that eventually. Good luck finding her. I'm sure once you see the squalor that spawned her you'll understand what I was trying to tell you.”

Lucian's jaw cracked as he breathed harder than a bull through his nose. Never again would he see Slade as anything more than a prick colleague. He was done.

Chapter 30

Simplification

Strategy of exchanging pieces,

which can amplify an opponent's advantage and strengthen their endgame

The scent of burning refuse permeated the frigid air. Tramps huddled over burning garbage cans stared as the limo slowly crawled by. Faces looked the same, vacant eyes peeking from dirty visages, hopelessly staring at the world moving around them. They'd been trolling the bowels of Folsom for days, with no sign of Evelyn.

It had begun to snow. December barreled in like a stampede, clearing the streets, leaving a hollow wake. Every night on the news there were posted advisories about the frigid temperatures. Lucian secured the permits for St. Christopher's yesterday and the crew was gutting the school and church at that very minute. He hired a night shift in order to get the job done as quickly as possible and get the shelter up and running again.

They took the corner slowly so that they could scan each body huddled in the cold.

“Stop.” The limo halted abruptly and he climbed out. “Evelyn . . .” His words fell away as a young woman, similar in height and build, stared up at him with dark eyes and a toothless mouth, nothing like Evelyn's. “My apologies. I thought you were someone else.”

Turning, he noticed several curious eyes on him. “I'm looking for a woman named Scout. Do you know her?”

“I may know her,” an older man with a lazy eye and discolored beard jaggedly grown in over a ruddy, scarred face said. “What's it to you?”

His nose was made up of one pocked divot after another. His coat was worn and moth-eaten. Lucian could smell him from several feet away. Reaching in his pocket, he withdrew his phone and a few cards.

Dugan stood at the hood of the car, shivering. Flurries coated his shoulders. “Here, Dugan, take this.”

Lucian handed Dugan his belongings and stripped off his Armani wool trench. Walking over to the man claiming to know Evelyn, he held out the lined coat. “Here.”

The man eyed him skeptically.

“Take it. It's supposed to drop another ten degrees tonight. You need it more than I do.”

He snatched the coat and quickly shrugged it on. It was too large for him. “What you want with Scout?”

“I don't wish to cause her harm if that's what you're wondering. I just need to know that she's safe.”

The man's mouth worked, shrinking into a pucker over his toothless hole. “She comes to see Pearl now and then, but Pearl ain't been 'round much. Moved on some time ago.”

“Pearl?” Lucian's fists dug into his pockets and his body jerked with shivers.

The man nodded. “Yessir. Pearl used to take care of us men here, so long as we get her a fix when she done her job.”

Dread moved through him like eels in a swamp as his brain worked out what the man meant.
Fuck.
He needed to get to Evelyn.

“Do you know where I can find Pearl?”

He shrugged. “Lots of people know Pearl. She sick now. No one wants anything from her no more. Like I said. Moved on some time go.”

Lucian nodded and mumbled a thank-you. Even the warmth of the limo did nothing to warm his blood. “It'll be getting dark soon, sir,” Dugan announced as he pulled away.

“Keep driving.”

They returned to the hotel sometime after two a.m. There was no telling where the needy went after dark. They had driven over every dilapidated road and looked in every dark alley, but found no one who could help them find Evelyn or this Pearl character.

The poignant reality he'd witnessed tonight was enough to haunt him for the rest of his life. The fact that these were people, human beings, living like rats among the gutters disturbed him to no end. Not because of their filth or pitiable circumstances, but because of their hardships, their hunger, and the bitter pain in their eyes. Such hopelessness.

Lucian awoke before dawn and stood on his balcony looking over the dark streets. A wash of light followed the swoosh of the random car cutting through the slush covering the pavement. Patras's walks had been maintained by the hour and were pristinely cleared for pedestrians while the rest of the world was two steps behind.

The low groan of plow trucks making their way down the city streets in a grid pattern brought about a familiar sound of winters past. The thick marble railing along the balcony was caked with at least six inches of white death. The reality that people died last night from the cold and precipitation made it impossible to focus on the ordinary mundane worries of his typical existence. It all seemed suddenly small.

Returning inside he picked up the phone and dialed nine.

“Front desk.”

“This is Lucian Patras. I need a town car and driver brought around right away.”

“Yes, Mr. Patras.”

He hung up the phone and went to his closet to find another coat. Dugan had driven for over eight hours yesterday and would likely still be sleeping. He could take the second shift.

A young man by the name of Clint met him out front with a Lincoln Town Car. “Good morning, Mr. Patras,” the man said, holding the door.

The interior was still cool. He climbed behind the wheel. “Where will you be going today, sir?”

“Head down to lower Folsom. Drive slow and be prepared to stop if I say so.”

The driver's mouth opened, but he kept his questions to himself. He shifted and merged onto the street. The town car bumped and glided over the snowy streets as the vacant walkways passed by.

By eight, the streets were all plowed and he had still found no signs of Evelyn. “You know where the old St. Christopher's church is?”

Clint nodded and navigated in that direction.

The sky was a cocoon of gray, wrapped tight around the city. Snow was never a beautiful thing in Folsom. It was discarded as an inconvenience and stained black as soon as the plows forced it aside. Wet, salted walkways had pedestrians clumsily skipping puddles and drifts. The only good thing about the snow was where the plows wouldn't go, footsteps could be found. There were trails leading in and out of abandoned buildings and cutting across chained-off industrial parks. It gave away where someone without proper shelter might be hiding.

He'd visited over a dozen shelters. No one recalled seeing a woman that met Evelyn's description, not with her eyes or length of hair and petite frame. The town car pulled into the broken parking lot of St. Christopher's. The construction crew was in full swing. “Pull over by the steps.”

Clint maneuvered the car as close to a snow-embanked curb as possible, and Lucian climbed out before he had a chance to get the door.

“Wait here. I shouldn't be long.”

“Yes, sir.”

Taking the steps two at a time, his tension eased slightly at the sound of hammers hammering, drills boring into fresh Sheetrock, and saws trimming. Progress was being made, and that was a good thing. Lucian stilled when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye.

Someone was lying in the brick embankment that was once a flowerbed alongside the building. Wool skullcap and a thickly wrapped scarf were all he could see at first. The bulk of the body was disguised by layers upon layers of clothing. When the person shifted to sit up, Lucian caught his scruffy profile and saw that it was male. Several days' growth of beard covered his chapped red cheeks. His light green eyes turned on him and he stilled.

“Parker?”

A rattling cough preceded his sardonic greeting. “Well, well, if it isn't prince charming. She's not here. No one is.”

Dropping all underlying disinclination, Lucian looked at him with all the humility he possessed. “Do you know where she is?”

The other man glared at him for a moment, clearly taking his measure. Lucian poured all his worry and concern into the space between them, and Parker sighed. “No. I don't. I haven't seen her in three days.”

Three days. That was
something
. Eleven days less than the time that lapsed since Lucian had seen her.

“Where was she?”

Parker's lips pressed tight into a thin, silent line between the scruff of his beard.

“I want to help her, Parker. I swear it. I . . . I care for her.”

“Maybe she doesn't want to be found.”

Lucian hesitated a moment, then leveled with him. “Look, I know how you feel about her. I could let her go and give you my blessing, but you and I both know I can offer her more. If you really love her, let me help her. Help me find her. Please. I swear I only want to do right by her.”

When several minutes passed and Parker said nothing, Lucian figured he wouldn't help. Then he surprised him by saying, “You hurt her.”

“I did,” Lucian admitted.

“I don't know what you did or said. Scout has a habit of fixing everyone else's problems and not letting anyone help her with her own. What I do know is that whatever you did, it hurt her bad. Scout doesn't cry and you changed that.”

Guilt and shame cut through him. “I'll make it right,” he vowed more to himself than to anyone else. “Please just help me. I'm begging you here, Hughes.”

Parker smirked. “Not something a guy like you does often, I imagine.”

“You've got me. I'm putting it all on the table. My hands are tied here. I've been driving around for days searching for her. I'm out of ideas. You have an idea of where she might be. What do I have to do to get you to help me?”

The other man's lips pursed and his green eyes jerked away, then back again. He exhaled noisily. “Fine. You want to help her? Well, I don't trust you. Guys like you don't do anything without an ulterior motive. Scout needs . . . stability. She'll do anything to get it. Problem is, she associates stability with money.”

“She's right.”

“Says you. Judge me all you want, but I want to see you fail. However, if you fail so does she, and that's not what I want. I want her to have the life she's after. I want to see her keep a good job, have her own home, and never have to worry when she'll eat next.”

“I can do all that for her. That's the plan.”

“Ah, but I won't see it.” Parker stood and Lucian noticed him limp slightly. No matter how strong he pretended to be, it was obvious his circumstances left him quite weak. “You're an audacious fellow. I have a proposition for you. I'll take you to her, but I want to be there when she gets everything she wants. I want to
see
all those dreams of hers come true. I want a job. You give me a job and I get back on my feet. At that point, you give me a fair shot at her. I'm not saying right away. I'll need some time. But when I'm ready, I say the word and you back off and give me a fair shot. One month where you don't interfere.”

Not a chance.

Lucian learned a long time ago how to act unaffected during the negotiations stages of a deal. “She may have a problem with that, you realize. Evelyn doesn't like being maneuvered without her feelings being considered.”

“Then I suppose we both lose.”

Lucian's eyes narrowed. Patient Parker had a very shrewd side to him. Something told Lucian the other man had no problem letting him walk away and never telling Evelyn he was here. Every hour of cold made a difference. This wasn't a situation where one could wait out the other.

It would backfire on Parker, of course. Lucian never broke his word once given, but Parker would somehow break the deal on his own. There was something about the kid that didn't stem from growing up on the streets. Something . . . informed, innate. Careful not to underestimate him, Lucian would do some research of his own and make sure he never got what he was after
without
cheapening the value of his word.

“Okay, Hughes. You've got yourself a deal, but let me give you some free advice. One, she'll eventually find out you only agreed to help her after securing your own chance at gaining something, and I give you my word I won't be the one to tell her this. Two, she won't like it when she does find out. Three, I haven't gotten where I am today by giving in easily. A challenge is just that to me. And four, I always get what I want.”

“Keep your fucking advice, Patras. All I'm interested in is a job and your word.”

“You have it.” Lucian extended his leather-clad hand.

Parker eyed it and then grudgingly shook it with his own. “Let's go.”