Resisting Ruby Rose (The Ruby Rose Series) (14 page)

Now that I was a
what
? A murderer? A proven criminal?

“What do you mean, the money isn’t clean?” I demanded.

She hesitated and closed her eyes once more. Maybe they were stinging worse than mine were. “I accepted a few payoffs. It was a while ago, but I’ve been informed by a member of my office staff that all my financials are being investigated.”

“They’re investigating you
now
? While you’re in the hospital, fighting for your life?” I was outraged. “Who?”

“I’m not sure, but I need you to do whatever you can to take care of it. Tonight. Do you understand?”

“How? You’re skipping past the age and authority part. Not to mention that it’s not even business hours for banks or whatever.”

“You’re a smart girl,” she said, in the most hopeful and optimistic tone she could muster under the circumstances. “I know you can figure it out.”

She didn’t know that
I’d
accepted Skryker’s offer, did she? Mathews didn’t seem to know, otherwise he would have said so and tried to talk me out of it. But why else would she assume I was capable of this? “What exactly are you asking me to do? Launder money?”

“I’m asking you to keep me out of prison.”

My oh my, how the tables had turned.

CHAPTER 19

The first person I called when I left the hospital (out the back door, unescorted by Mathews) was Quinn. H
e’d
conveniently placed himself as number one on my phone’s favorites list.

“I need your help,” I said, knowing how hard it would be to take those words back.

“I’ll be there in ten,” he said and clicked off.

He didn’t even ask for my location, which happened to be behind a Dumpster near the ER. Not very stealthy and not very sanitary, and my loyal pair of Reef Gladiator sandals were paying the price with something sticking to their soles. But I figured if I gave Mathews an opportunity to spot me, h
e’d
never let me get in the car with Quinn.

I’d
been breathing in the stench of garbage for a few minutes when a strange voice called to me from across the street. “Hey, crazy girl. What are you doing over there?” A dark-haired man in a hospital custodial uniform was staring at me.

I looked around, suddenly aware of how dumb it was to be alone with Martinez on the loose. Who knew where his mercenaries were lurking? Maybe disguised as custodians. “Oh, I just needed some privacy,” I said, pretending to wipe my eyes as if
I’d
been crying. I began to back up toward the door.

“It’s OK,” he said, holding up his hands like he was sorry he called a girl in mourning “crazy.” “I just wanted to make sure you’re OK.”

“I’m OK. Actually I’m just waiting for my ride.” I sniffled for more effect—maybe it would make him tuck-tail faster.

Not a moment too soon, Quinn and his sleek Audi (with no signs of gunshots on the body) pulled up. I got in, relieved.

“Did you program my phone to have a GPS locator?” I asked, faking hostility.

“I will neither confirm nor deny such an accusation,” he said, in a deep movie voiceover tone before peeling out. “Where to, my lady?”

“Home. I mean, my mom’s house. Where I used to live. 1187 Alameda Court,” I said, clarifying too many times.

He pressed a button on the console and repeated the address, and a more seductive British voice than my Ms. Poppins’s began telling him which direction to take.

At the first stop we came to, he pulled out his phone and sent someone a quick text.

“Who are you texting now?” I said, wondering why I even bothered asking.

“The boss,” he said, surprising me with his honesty. “He wants to talk to you. He’ll most likely meet us there.”

“Why?” My voice squeaked too high. “I don’t have time to talk to him. I have something I need to do.”

“Such as hiding your mom’s illicit bribe money?” Quinn sped past a car and, like a race driver, changed lanes without signaling.

What th
e . . . 
?
“I don’t understand how you know everything before—”

“I have a confession,” he said, glancing at me with puppy-dog eyes. “I installed an app on your phone that lets me listen in on your conversations. Lucky for me you keep your cell between your breasts. Not a bad place for a guy like me to hang out. Plus, very little sound distortion there.”

I could not have been hearing him right.

“You bugged my phone?” I was no longer faking my hostility. “You cocky son of a—”

“Ruby!” he cut me off. “Come on, it’s part of how I make sure you’re safe.”

“No, it’s an invasion of privacy, a breach of ethics, a violation of trust—it’s a freaking douchey thing to do, that’s what it is!”

“Look, I didn’t have to tell you that’s what I did, and I can uninstall it.” Quinn slowed down for a red light. “But at this moment, let’s look on the bright side.”

I gave him a you-can’t-be-serious look.

“I know someone on our team who can help your hook-and-crook mumsy,” he said, taking the green light as a signal to go zero to sixty before finishing his sentence. “And help ‘save your family.
’
 
”

I didn’t like his tone or his name-calling, but I did like the fact that he could help with my mom’s request. I also liked the way he was driving. I couldn’t help feeling that on-again, off-again attraction. He was so infuriating and arrogant, but at the same time completely helpful.

“Man, you’re an ass,” I said.

“Ah, but a dashing and useful ass,” he corrected.

As we pulled into my driveway, I felt a strange sense of relief at returning to the house I used to call my home—as if the decorative brick driveway itself were talking to me, saying, “Welcome back.” It had been months since
I’d
been here.
I’d
even sent Alana to get all my things out of my room instead of going myself.

“Shall we?” Quinn asked as we came to a stop.

I got out of the car and punched the code into the garage keypad. I didn’t know why I was surprised to find my mom’s Mercedes sitting there, but I was. It made my heart ache to think it would be a long time, if ever, until sh
e’d
be driving it again.

As I entered the shadowy hallway that opened up into the foyer, I expected the alarm to sound, but it didn’t. Instead, a dark figure materialized on the living room couch as he pulled the string on the lamp to cast a warm glow on his face.

Skryker.

“Good evening to you both,” he said, without getting up. “Care to join me?”

I drew a deep breath, forcing down my annoyance at his presumptuousness—disabling the alarm, letting himself in, and behaving as if he were the man of the house. Who was he to ask if I would join him on my own couch! Well, sort of my couch.

“What do you want?” I asked, sitting down at the far end of the sectional, as far away from him and his shiny hair as possible.

“I have your first assignment.” His tone was cordial and polite, but underneath I knew there was far more menace involved. There was just something about this guy that I couldn’t stomach.

“Of course.” I wasn’t surprised. And I was ready—participation was going to be on my terms. “But only if you help me with something first.”

“And what would that be?” he asked, appearing intrigued but not giving away if he knew what was happening with my mom.

“There’s some money that needs to be moved,” I said. His reaction still revealed nothing. He ran his fingers over the thick stitching in the leather couch. I considered being vague about whose money needed moving and why, because admitting to a dangerous man like him that my mom had suspicious funds seemed akin to giving him a loaded weapon. I would have way rather asked Quinn about this, but since the person who could help was a member of Black Tide, I was sure that the request would have to go through Skryker. And time was of the essence.

“Are you going to tell me whose money?” he asked, patiently waiting for me to go all-in. If this were a game of poker, h
e’d
definitely have the upper hand.

“My mother’s,” I admitted without further detail.

A smile spread across his face—a gratified grin that I desperately wanted to remove by force.

“Right. Well, you have a deal, Miss Rose,” Skryker said, obviously enjoying this exchange. “Quinn here will make sure your mother’s pesky little money problem is taken care of, so long as you make a delivery for me.”

“A delivery? To whom?”

“To one of your mother’s colleagues, Bill Brandon.”

A delivery to Bill Brandon? What did Brandon have to do with anything?

“It will be your first mission as part of Black Tide,” Skryker continued. “I know it’s not very sexy or adventurous, but not everything will be. You see, the best part about your new career is how truly simple it is. You go to school, carry on with your friends, boyfriends, etcetera. Go shopping, take care of your very expensive shoe fetish.”

Hey! It wasn’t a fetish! It was more like a skill set.

“Then I call you or visit with you from time to time and ask you to carry out a task.” Skryker picked nonexistent lint off his black slacks. “And not a bad paycheck for the work, either.”

I looked at Quinn to see if he showed any signs of having a bad taste in his mouth when Skryker talked, like I did, but he was the epitome of cool and collected. He sat forward, respectful and attentive. Almost like a dog waiting for his master to give a command. It made me lose some of my attraction to him.

“That’s not how it is for Liam,” I argued. “You sent him to Mexico. Alone!”

Skryker smiled, a thin and arrogant grin. “Liam isn’t alone. He’s with his partner, Eva.”

A little ball of rage exploded somewhere in my chest. Eva! Instantly, a scene formed in my mind. Eva modeling her Victoria’s Secret spy collection in their hotel room, and Liam lying in piles of money and guns on the bed.

“And according to my sources, your father will be joining him shortly as well.” Skryker seemed mildly perturbed by Silver’s interference.

“Yeah, he’s not your biggest fan,” I said.

“He’s trying to protect you and someone you care about,” Skryker said, smoothing down his black-and-gray tie and leaning forward to pull a manila envelope out of his briefcase. “I understand completely. But soon enough he will have to understand that it’s your choice, not his.”

“What’s in the envelope this time?” I asked. What was it with this guy and manila envelopes? Did he own stock in the company that manufactured them?

“That’s not your concern. Let’s just say that it’s something Brandon will be
interested
to see coming from you.”

“Is it my mom’s concession speech?” I joked. Though, after a second of reflection, I realized with a sick feeling that he wouldn’t need that. My mom wouldn’t be capable of doing her job for a long time.

“You will deliver this envelope to Mr. Brandon at the location specified on the top right corner. You will go now, alone, and unseen by anyone other than Mr. Brandon. You will be in and out without incident.” He handed the envelope to me, and I took it.

There was something small and rectangular inside, like a keychain or a flash drive. “What happens if I can’t contain my curiosity and I open it?”

“It will blow up, and you’ll die,” Quinn said with a straight face that quickly turned into a smirk.

“It’s encrypted, so you won’t have access to the information,” Skryker said, unconcerned. “Just make sure to smile when Brandon thanks you.”

Smile?
That wasn’t happening.

“Before I go ahead and do this—deliver the envelope and join the team—”

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for me to finish.

“I want this problem with my mother’s money handled first. It needs to be done now, tonight. I want the money put somewhere safe. Somewhere only I can get it.
Before
I deliver the envelope.”

“OK.” Skryker closed his briefcase and stood to face me.

“And I want your word—if I can even trust it—that joining up with you is going to mean that Martinez gets what he deserves. I’m not joining you for the money or because of anything else. I’m doing it to get what I want. And what I want is for Martinez to not be able to hurt anyone else. You alluded to it, but I want to hear you say it.”

“I promise,” Skryker said, placing his hand over his heart and meeting my eyes directly. “You will get your shot at Martinez.”

Somehow I knew this piece of information was true. Even if I couldn’t be sure of anything else, I was certain Skryker would strangely enjoy making that happen for me.

“Welcome to the team,” Skryker said, holding out his hand. “I truly believe you will be one of our greatest assets.”

I didn’t want to shake his hand, and I didn’t want to look into his cold eyes, but I did both, and I was ready to get started.

I watched him walk out of my house as quietly as he had come.

“Better get to work,” Quinn said, standing and heading out of the room.

“Wait,” I called after him. “What are you doing?”

“The white shoebo
x . . .
” he said, as if it were obvious.

“Then what?” I joined him by the stairs. “Who’s the team member who can help?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, walking around me to go upstairs without my approval or permission. “We’ve got a person.”

“A
person
? What kind of
person
?” I asked, wondering if I should follow him.

“Take your mom’s car,” he said from the top of the staircase.

I was about to ask why, when I remembered that Fake Big Black was still parked at Silver’s boat from when Mathews picked me up to take me to see my mom.

“Didn’t you hear me tell Skryker I wasn’t doing it
until
the money problem was handled?” I said, sticking to my guns. Symbolic guns
,
that is
.
Dang, I wanted my gun back!

“Go ahead and get started.” Quinn kept walking toward my mom’s double doors. “I’ll text you the details as soon as it’s done. This won’t take long. Trust me.”

Really?
As he disappeared from sight, he called out, “Meet me back at my place. I’ll make you midnight crêpes.”

Midnight crêpes?