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Sam rolled her eyes. “Sharlene is unhinged when it comes to Erin. If I were you, I’d look for other misbeliefs she’s stuck on, because I’m sure there are some.” Sam scowled. “She can’t be wrong, ever. If she is, she changes the story or the actual thing to put her in the right. Find someplace she’s been wrong with the Bratva, and you’ll find a string to pull.”
“Can you give us an example?” Aviss asked.
Sam sighed. “Not specifically, because I resigned as the Bank’s attorney when I started seeing increasingly questionable decisions. Nothing strictly illegal, but rather than giving second chances, they’ve turned into a ‘one-strike and you’re out’ business. A lot of companies are pulling out of the bank for that and the hostile environment.” She shook her head. “But with the money coming in from the Bratva, the board doesn’t care. I don’t think they understand how much goodwill they’ve lost, even with the increased charitable donations. With the money rolling in, those greedy old men don’t care. You might get one of them to turn, if you can adequately demonstrate the connections, but the best board members left around the same time I did, for the same reasons. Two of them tried to pin Murphy down during a meeting. When she wouldn’t admit to TriWest Holding’s iffy funding, they resigned. Those resignation letters, which should be filed as part of the record, specified the possible illegality of TriWest.”
Aviss shook her head. “There’s no such letters. The only resignation letters give no reasons.”
Sam sighed. “Either Murphy pressured them or she created fakes.” She pulled a piece of paper from her bag and wrote names on it, then handed it to Aviss. “I can get phone numbers if I can turn my cell on.”
“We’ll find them.” Aviss smiled. “You may have just given us the ammunition for an investigation. Faking documents, for any reason, is enough to bring the Office of the Comptroller and Currency in. Then the OCC might find enough to start the FDIC searching. Thank you.”
Sam shook her head. “I should have thought of that a long time ago. Sorry.”
“You’ve had other things to think about, like survival. Besides, we should have asked you specifically. Just more evidence something’s rotten in the Bureau.” Aviss scowled into the distance.
Trevor copied her scowl. “Nothing from Young?” He should have been spilling his guts in gratitude to Aviss for rescuing his family from the drug house/prison.
Aviss grimaced. “He knew next to nothing. Communication came through burner phones, and no names were used. We tracked them to locations where Koslov’s people appeared, but they were public locations. Nothing we could prove. Those we arrested were low-level soldiers who also knew nothing. The upper levels won’t talk.” She sighed. “Typical.” A smile bloomed. “But I bet someone at Marcus City Bank will talk if we bring in the OCC. Maybe even Murphy.”
“Only if she hasn’t convinced herself that she’s in the right.” Sam sneered. “She’s so self-deceptive. So self-righteous. Even with evidence, you’ll be hard pressed to get her to admit to doing anything wrong. For Erin’s sake, I wish that wasn’t true, but it is.”
“Okay.” Aviss opened her laptop and typed. “On a different note, let’s look at potential meeting places for your family. I’ve got a list of five different locations, all with good escape routes. I’d rather meet outside, but it’s too easy to overhear with parabolic microphones. Churches are out, too, because of their religious differences.”
Sam’s scoff matched his own. “It’s one of the reasons our parents despised our high school romance. Both sets were determined to marry us off to ‘proper’ partners.” Sam shuddered. “And that definition of proper has only gotten stricter. And worse.” Her brows narrowed in puzzlement. “I’m surprised they talk at all.”
Trevor reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “Who else can understand how terrible their kids turned out?” He snorted. “But I’m sorry, Sam.”
She turned toward him, dislodging his hand. “I know. No need for further apologies. It’s water under the bridge.” She unplugged her laptop and carried it to the couch. “You two decide where we’re meeting. I’m just along for the ride, and I have work to do.” She sat and opened her laptop.
Shutting him out. Which he deserved. When Aviss cleared her throat, he turned to her. “Okay, what do you need?” He listened and agreed with Aviss’s decisions but couldn’t help thinking about Sam. She had her friends, but they were all partnered and all involved in trying to keep themselves alive.
Trevor might never hold Sam close again, but he’d support her one hundred percent. No matter what happened with the Russians, the FBI, his job, or his life, he’d be there for her. Just as if they were a couple, even if they weren’t. And might never be again. He’d show her he could be trusted, completely, and hope for more. But if it never happened, he’d care for her, anyway.
He wholeheartedly loved her, whether she loved him or not.
Chapter seventeen
Sam circled the small room for what must be the five hundredth time. If their parents didn’t show soon, she’d have to replace the carpet. At least her friend James would understand. He’d escaped their parents’ church, too, marrying an even more “unsuitable” person—a foreigner. After her husband was killed early in the war, Katerina had escaped Ukraine, determined to raise her children in safety. James met her on a business trip to Poland and it was love at first sight. He’d sponsored their relocation into the US, renting a house for the family and finding Katerina a job. Then he insisted on dating so she wouldn’t be forced into a marriage she didn’t want. She’d insisted on the wedding less than three months later.
Usually, thinking about their joyful story made Sam smile, but she was too nervous. No, not nervous, but apprehensive. She was certain that nothing about the meeting would go smoothly.
“Sam, you’re making me dizzy.” Trevor tilted his head toward the chair next to him, on the side of the table facing the door. “Sit, relax. I’ve got your back, and you’ve got mine. We stay calm, cool, and collected, sticking to the facts.”
“Easy for you to say.” Sam glared, staying on her feet. “You’ve already had it out with your father and won.”
“But it took multiple attempts and cost me a ton of money.” Trevor scoffed. “And it’s a battle every time.”
Before Sam could retort, the door opened. His parents, then hers, stomped in, the men shoving inside first, of course. Women had to know their place. She stretched her fingers and repeated the calm, cool, collected mantra, keeping her temper in check.
Her father stood at the table across from her, glaring at Trevor. Her mother, who seemed to have shrunk, cowered behind him. She wore an old-fashioned long dress, with a white cap fitted tight to her graying hair, pulled back into a knot at her nape. Trevor’s father left a chair between him and her father but also remained standing. Trevor’s mom trotted around the table with her arms out. He rose and hugged her. “Hi, Mom. It’s great to see you.”
She pulled away, cupping her hands around his face. “Trevor, honey. Are you okay? You look tired.”
“I’m fine, Mom. Just really busy.” He smiled down at her.
“Trying to keep that one alive is that hard?” Trevor’s dad sneered, jabbing his chin at Sam. “Why bother?”
Sam didn’t react, other than to take the chair next to Trevor’s. Predictably, her father’s fists came up. “You piece of—”
