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“San Francisco was much too dreary.” He shuddered dramatically, still cocksure, still oblivious, still thinking he had the upper hand. “Year-round sun is far more appealing.”
“I’m sure it is,” she agreed, “but I believe you also had some business partners who required you to be in closer proximity to them.” She tapped the folder. “Your gallery is a sham.” She didn’t want a scene or eavesdroppers, so she kept her voice low enough to be masked by the buzz of lunch conversation. Leaning closer, as close as she could stand without throwing up at the smell of his overpowering cologne, she said, “To be more precise, your gallery is a shell. A front. You move paintings. You move money. And then you make that money look clean for some very bad people.” She opened the file, read a name, a big, bad name, one even she’d heard of.
At last, his smile was gone. And his eyes had gone very cold and very dark. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” But he swallowed hard enough to make his Adam’s apple bob.
She smoothed a hand over the folder. “The evidence was quite easy to come by. In fact, it took my investigator less than twenty-four hours to put it together.”
“Investigator?” He went pale beneath the Vegas tan.
“You think you know me so well, Archie. You still think I’m the naïve eighteen-year-old girl you once preyed on. But it turns out that you don’t know me at all. And what you didn’t figure on is that I have friends, very powerful friends. And they know exactly how to handle a weasel like you.”
“What the f—” The curse word didn’t come to fruition as he looked around, then lowered his voice. “I haven’t done anything. You can’t prove anything.”
“I disagree. You’ve done a lot. More than I ever thought you were capable of, to be honest. It’s all here.” She caressed the file lovingly. “And this afternoon it’s all going to the U.S. Attorney’s Office.”
He was breathing hard and fast at the thought of actually having to pay the price for all the dirty deals he’d done. “How dare you, you little—”
She held up a hand to stop his low-voiced rant. “Here’s the thing. These cases can go one of two ways. They can go lenient. Or they can go bad. Really bad. Especially if they decide to use you as an example for all the other would-be art launderers out there.”
He opened his mouth, closed it. It could be fear. Or it could be that he didn’t believe she was capable of following through on her threats. But he would be so wrong.
She was very capable. She always had been.
“Now, my friends,” she went on, “they know people. Powerful people. Important people. People who can make it easy on you.” She shrugged. “Or they can tighten the screws until it really, really hurts.”
“What the hell do you want?”
“Funny, when I asked you that yesterday, I didn’t get an answer.”
A worm in the grass, Archie squirmed and writhed. “What do you want?” he asked again. His words were so muted, so fraught with fear and shock, that she almost had to read his lips.
“Leave me and my son alone. He was never your son. You disowned him even before he was born. You denied him. You ignored him until suddenly you had a use for him. I would never want a man like you to be anyone’s father. So don’t call us, don’t come near us, don’t even live in the same state with us. Not ever again. For any reason.”
“And if I do what you ask, you won’t turn in the information?”
She snorted softly and shook her head, a slight smile on her lips. “Of course I’m going to turn it in. It’s my civic duty. But knowing how slick you’ve always been, I’m sure you can rat out some rats, make a few deals, and probably get away with little to no jail time.” She waited a beat. “If you want my friends’ help, that is.”
“You—” He didn’t call her the name he wanted to. He was afraid now. Deeply afraid.
Was it bad to feel so good about that?
Not one bit, she decided.
“If you don’t leave my son alone,” she continued, “my friends will make sure you can’t cut any deals. And you can expect an extremely long jail term. Oh look, I’ve been talking so much, I’ve forgotten my champagne.” She sipped, and bubbly had never tasted better. Then she pushed the folder across the table. “You can have this, by the way. Just so you know I’m not bluffing. But the originals are going to the authorities.”
He opened the folder, flipped a couple of pages, stopped, read, and then read again. Then he looked at her. His usually smug face was drawn, with deep lines that hadn’t been there only minutes before. His skin was gray, and he looked ten years older. He looked once more at the papers in the folder, all the paragraphs, all the sentences, all the words that brought him down. “If I leave you both alone, you swear you’ll make sure I don’t go to jail?”
“If you leave me and Jorge alone and turn state’s evidence, I’m sure you’ll be able to make some sort of plea bargain. But that’s up to you.”
The truth was she had no idea how this kind of thing actually worked. A large part of her hoped the Mavericks would let him rot. It was no less than Archie deserved.
But she knew the Mavericks were men of their word, and if Archie cooperated in every way, they would keep their promise.
“All right,” he said. “You win.”
Goal achieved, Rosie rose and said, “Good-bye, Archie.” Then she turned and walked out on him for the very last time.
She ran to Gideon, who was waiting for her in the same spot where she’d left him.
