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I’d kept my promise.
“Derek, I know you don’t believe in much of anything. But that promise I made to you, I’ve kept. The only thing I’ve stolen since Ray’s funeral was your watch the other night.”
He scoffed. “No. You don’t go from Atoka to this.” His fist crashed on the embossed leather of my desktop, and a crystal paperweight rattled against my Damascus steel letter opener. Onyx stood and bared his teeth with a nearly silent growl, waiting for my command to attack.
“What you’re saying is I can’t change. A woman like me can never change. Can never be worthy of your trust.” I raised my voice. I wasn’t shouting, but I was close.
I hated the way I felt, losing control of my emotions. Old hurts long buried rose up, tangling with my current frustration at being unable to extricate myself from Uncle Jimmy’s organization. It coalesced into a tight ball of ugly that lodged in my chest, ready to explode.
“Fine. Have it your way. I’ll give you the unvarnished truth.”
“Yes, one time, Amber Lee. Tell me the fucking truth.” He looked as beaten down as I felt keyed up. The look reminded me of him at Ray’s funeral, and I almost deflated. I almost backed down. But I chose to ignore the high road and plunge forward. Rage beckoned, and I heeded its call.
“I don’t steal. I’m a fence.” The confession rushed out of me, hot and heavy. The ball of anger in my chest banged against my ribcage, demanding to be let loose on the world—on Derek. It made me reckless with my words.
He rocked back on his heels like I’d slapped him. Confusion distorted his features. I knew he was picturing white pickets and chain links. That’s the beauty of being a fence. No glamor. We’re an almost forgotten part of the criminal world. Changing stolen goods into cash is a business as old as property crime. And I was good at it.
“A fence…you sell the stuff. That’s not any better.” Clarity brought a new accusation and a new reason for his disapproval.
“Fuck you. I kept my promise.” This time I was shouting, the anger burning through the last of my restraint. I was itching for the fight. It felt so good to let go and be mad at someone. I kept all of it inside every damn day. This explosion of uncharacteristic temper was a massive relief. The ball in my chest burned white hot, fueling my words.
Chapter 4
Derek
Shethoughtshe’dkepther vow made in Ray’s memory by moving up in the criminal hierarchy. And now she had the gall to be pissed at me for calling her out. It was astounding.
“You didn’t keep your promise.” My voice was rough and angry, matching hers in tone if not volume.
“You said no more stealing. You said Ray wouldn’t want a thief as a sister.” She rushed from behind the desk. Anger radiated off her like heat off the pavement on a Florida afternoon.
“He wouldn’t want you as…as this either.” We stood toe to toe, glaring at each other.
“You left. Ray was dead. It was Mom and me. She curled up in a bottle after the funeral and never came out. I was the nineteen-year-old daughter of a drunk living in a trailer park. And your promise took away the one skill I had.” She dug her manicured nail into the center of my chest, and the venom in her eyes told me I was lucky she didn’t have a knife, or she’d have dug out my heart. I might have welcomed its removal. Pain and guilt overwhelmed me as I absorbed the anguish in her words. Regret hit like a physical blow.
I flattened my hand over hers, pressing until she relented. The nail gouging into my chest was replaced by the flat of her palm over my aching heart. Her fingers felt small and cold under mine, and I leaned into our connection. Her touch was a balm to my pain.
“It wasn’t my choice to leave. The Navy owned me.” I cringed at the weakness in my voice, the whine of someone who’d shirked his responsibility. I’d promised Ray to watch his wild kid sister if anything ever happened to him. I’d utterly failed. Believing Mrs. Vance’s vague stories about Lee’s life in New Jersey had been easy. The lazy way of handling my responsibilities.
“Exactly. I was alone, and I made it work. I made a life for myself. A life where I wasn’t a thief.” A flash of something like regret crossed her features, and I watched her anger abate. She shook her head and turned away from me, jerking her hand free.
“But you’re still a criminal.” I pressed the place her fingernail had dug into my chest. A bruise was forming on the surface and far deeper inside. Regrets.
She ignored me, returning to her chair behind the desk and riffling a stack of papers with shaking hands. She’d dismissed me, but I wasn’t that easy to get rid of. I came to get answers about the OceanBlu and because of a long-neglected promise to the best friend I’d ever had.
“Vance, I need information. People are in the hospital, and millions in donations to a charity are missing.” I used my best SEAL commander tone, trying to force her compliance.
“I have nothing to tell you.” She didn’t look up; her voice was hoarse.
“I find that hard to believe.”
“But you are going to have to believe it.” The fire from before had vanished. She exhaled and squared her shoulders, the tilt of her chin defiant. Her polished persona fell back into place, smothering the rage that had burned bright moments ago.
She flattened the wrinkled papers she held, and her hands no longer trembled.
“I’m not some stupid cop you can lie to.” It was my turn to move. I started pacing the small space across from her desk. It was the only way to keep from grabbing and shaking her to dislodge the polished veneer.
She’d always hidden behind a mask. As a teen, it was the rebellious youth—black nail polish, too much eyeliner, and Doc Martens. In her current incarnation, she reminded me of a character on a 1980s nighttime soap opera like Dynasty—the waist-length inky hair, all-white business suit, and black guard dog. The carefully crafted look covered up any remnants of the girl I remembered. She was a living fiction of her own creation. She was gorgeous, but it was all a facade.
