Growing and Kissing (29 page)

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Authors: Helena Newbury

Tags: #Russian Mafia Romance, #Romantic Suspense, #New Adult Romance

BOOK: Growing and Kissing
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Sean

 

We exchanged horrified looks.

“That’s not possible!” said Louise, her voice cracking. “They can’t just—”

“They can,” I said, running my hand over my face. “They just have to give us notice—this is notice.”

“But…” She looked around her. “They’re not ready! We need another month!” She was getting paler and paler by the second as the full implications sunk in. I knew, because my mind was making the same connections. The money. Kayley’s treatment. Kayley’s
life.
She stared at me, tears filling her eyes.

And I felt that same thing I had the first time I learned about Kayley—that deep, aching swell in my chest that for so many years I’d thought I wasn’t capable of. The feeling I’d been clamping down on as hard as I could, because it led to a fantasy I knew could never be real: Louise and me together and happy.

Only things were different now. I didn’t know if we’d work together—fuck, I didn’t know if I’d work with
anyone.
There was so much bad shit in my past that I kept locked away, I wasn’t sure if there was enough
me
for a relationship. But for the first time, I wanted to try. And so I let that pressure build and build in my chest, letting myself really feel the injustice of it the way she did every fucking day.

And I got mad. Only for once, I didn’t let it spill out as swings of hammer and fist. I had to be like her. For once, I had to be smart.

“We are going to move this entire operation,” I said, each word slow and deliberate.

Louise looked up at me. “How? We’ve got nowhere else to grow! We can’t rent a new place
overnight!
And even if we could,
look!”
She waved her hand at the tables, the plants, the lights. “We can’t move all that by tomorrow morning!”

After all the months of grim determination and refusal to give up, she’d finally reached her breaking point. She needed someone to back her up.

I’d never fought for a fucking thing, my whole life. Only
against
things. But I was going to fight for this.

“I’ve got an idea,” I told her, and held out my hand. “Let’s go.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Louise

 

Sean’s idea was one of those simple-but-brilliant plans that can only be born when your back’s against the wall. We couldn’t rent somewhere officially, not by tomorrow. So this had to be an off-the-books deal, strictly cash, no questions asked. Who the hell would agree to a deal like that?

Someone with a place that was
unrentable.

I called Stacey and asked if she could stay the night at my apartment. I could hear the smile in her voice when she told me to go have fun—she had the day off tomorrow and was happy to hang out at my place with Kayley.

So sleep in with him,” she told me.
God, she thinks I got lucky on my date!
I just wished I could tell her the truth.

We took both cars, splitting up to cover more ground. We needed somewhere big enough to house all the plants, away from prying eyes and in enough of a state that no one else would want it...while still having power, water and a roof. We trawled property ads and internet sites and, when all else failed, just drove around likely areas looking for places. We were frantic, driving to one place while calling another, swapping information between us and crossing places off our list. Since it was late evening, all the offices were closed...so we had to track down the owners’ cell phone numbers and call them direct.

The first four places I looked at wouldn’t work—disused factories and workshops sounded good at first, but they were all owned by big companies who’d want forms filled out. The fifth place, an “artist’s studio” I found on the internet, turned out to have no roof. The sixth was too small, the seventh was perfect...and the owner was on vacation and couldn’t be contacted. By now, the battery indicator on my phone was eaten down to a slender red line, my list was a mass of crossings-out and my throat was raw from talking. I was close to giving up.

I saw the place completely by chance: a mansion all on its own on a hill overlooking the city. Three floors, lots of windows...there were even honest-to-goodness turrets. It reminded me most of all of the Addams Family house. It must have been worth a fortune, once.

A very long time ago.

Now, half the windows were broken and the shutters were drooping or had fallen off entirely. The iron fence around the property was bent and broken in places, the lawn was up to knee height and I thought I could see vegetation growing on the roof.

It was awful...and strangely wonderful. And quite possibly, perfect.

There was a faded realtor sign in the garden. A phone call revealed that, yes, the house had been for sale several times over the last decade, but the owner—a Mrs. Baker—had taken it off the market. The realtor gave me her number just to get rid of me.

Esmeralda Baker turned out to be pushing eighty. Her accent was pure old-money Boston. “Where we should have stayed,” she sniffed as she walked me across the overgrown yard. “But my great-grandmother wanted to run off with the stable boy, and
he
in turn decided he was going to join the California gold rush. To everyone’s astonishment, he actually struck it rich. He built my great-grandmother this house just to spite her father.”

She unlocked the front door and swung it wide. “Of course,” she said, “it’s seen better days.”

My jaw dropped open. I took in the dark wood staircase that swept up to the second floor, the galleried landing, the once-beautiful black and white tiled floor.

But mostly, I stared at the tree.

It had erupted through the floor and thrust out branches to touch all four walls as it grew. It stretched right to the top of the double-height room. In fact—I leaned forward and craned my head back to look—yep, some branches were actually poking through the roof. That explained the vegetation I’d seen up there.

“How did it—” I asked weakly.

“It’s an American Sycamore,” she said sternly. “Those things grow
fast.
The floor was torn up by the plumbers to get at some pipes, right down in the foundations, and there was a hole in the roof and...well, at the same time I was running a little short of money so the work ground to a stop, and the house was unoccupied for several years while I was living with my sister. A seed must have blown in. I came back and...” She waved her hand at the tree.

The house was completely unsellable—no one in their right mind would take on such a disaster. “Can I see the rest?” I asked with growing excitement.

The living room had a huge hole in the floor but the kitchen and two of the other reception rooms were in a good state of repair. There was even power and water. I spun around to Mrs. Baker. “I want to make you an offer,” I said.

“To
buy?”

“To rent.”

She shook her head.

“Look,” I pressed, “you aren’t going to sell it. You must know that.”

“Renting it’s not worth my while,” she sniffed.

I was desperate. “
Ten thousand dollars.
For one month.” When she hesitated, I said, “Come on, it’s sitting here doing nothing. In a month we’ll be gone and you’ll have ten thousand in the bank for repairs.”

She looked at me sternly. “Young lady, I was
not
born yesterday. What are you planning to do here: run a brothel? A gambling den?” But there was a gleam in her eye that hadn’t been there before, as if I was bringing back old memories. I wondered what her family had been involved with, back in the day.

“Ten thousand,” I said levelly. “We give you back the house as we found it and you don’t ask any questions. Anything goes wrong, it’s on us and you had no idea. You’re just a nice old lady who got duped.”

For a while, I thought she wasn’t going to go for it. Then she crossed her arms and nodded. “Cash up front.”

My smile of relief only lasted a few seconds. I told her I’d be back with the entire amount in an hour, but then I sat in my car staring out at the night. We’d spent all of our money. We couldn’t scrape together a thousand dollars to give her, never mind ten.

Which only left one solution.

I pulled out my phone and stared at Sean’s number for a long time before finally putting it back in my purse. If I told him, he’d stop me. And this was our only shot.

I took a deep breath and went to see Murray.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Louise

 

As I’d thought, Murray moved around. I had to dig out the loan papers, find his number and call him to find out where his latest temporary office was. Yes, he said, he’d see me even at this late hour. In fact, he sounded worryingly pleased to hear from me.

This time, his place was up on the second floor of a mostly-abandoned office building. The scary thing was how much less alien it felt, going to see a loan shark. The last five months had changed me: dealing with criminals was almost normal, now.

In his lobby, the two heavies in suits were waiting as before. This time, though, they gave me a knowing, leering grin, much more obvious than before. Was it because Sean wasn’t there? Or was it because they knew what me being back here meant?

Murray was leaning back in his chair, his hands behind his head. His grin only got wider when I told him I needed another ten thousand.

At first, I tried to brazen it out. “Come on,” I said. “What’s another ten thousand? Add it onto my original loan.”

He let me have a few seconds of hope. Then, savoring the word, “No.”

I stared at him, getting a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I could sense the power in the room shifting.

“You’re a bad risk,” he told me, leaning forward so that our faces were only a foot apart. I could feel his excitement, almost sexual—he was
thrilled
to see what I’d do next.

I got to my feet. “I’ll find someone else.”

“You think we don’t all talk to each other? You think we don’t swap names and numbers? Ten seconds on the phone and you’re blacklisted, Louise.”

I felt my knees go weak. After the air conditioning failure and then Malone and now the eviction, all in one day, I didn’t have any more fight to give. Now
this?!
I could feel the mansion, our last shot at saving the crop, slipping away from me.

“Of course,” said Murray as if throwing me a lifebelt, “there’s always the other option. The one I offered you before.”

I thought of Kayley, growing steadily weaker.

“What is it?” I asked. My voice was a low croak.

Murray mockingly tilted his head to one side. “Sure you don’t want to call Sean? He was
so
against you taking that option.”


What is it?”
I wanted to throw up. But I couldn’t walk out of there without the money.

He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a printed contract. It already had my name on—all he had to do was write in the updated amount. My stomach twisted: he’d been
that
sure I’d come back.

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