Twisted Lies (Dirty Secrets) (10 page)

Bigsby cleared his throat. “I’m Bigsby Calhoune.” He smiled as he offered his hand to me before shaking it enthusiastically. “I apologize. I thought I knew most of Mitch’s friends.”

My face was a cold mask, hiding my disdain. “Leave the thinking to Mitch and your fiancée. You’re way out of your depth, Mr. Calhoune.” I stepped back, sipping my scotch.

Bigsby shifted uncomfortably before looking to Mitch for assistance, but none came. I knew Mitch expected Bigsby to grovel and make amends for his slight.

Bigsby’s smile was forced as he said, “Ariella says I’m like a bull in a china shop at these events. Apologies, Mr. McKay.”

I tilted my head. “You’re from Brooklyn,” I stated matter-of-factly.

Bigsby looked visibly startled. “Uh…yes. How did you know?”

I stared shrewdly at him. “You’re trying too hard to hide the accent.” Effectively dismissing him, I turned to Mitch. “You pulled out the big guns tonight. You must think he’s a winner.”

Mitch beamed at Bigsby. “You’re damn right. If I have anything to do with it, Bigsby will be New York’s next mayor.”

“I wouldn’t start writing acceptance speeches. I know his opponent personally. He’s thorough and ruthless.” My eyes narrowed on Bigsby. “And his specialty is unearthing his opponent’s skeletons.”

Bigsby’s grin slipped before his lips curled up into a stiff smile.

I winked at Ariella while addressing Bigsby, “I hope your beautiful fiancée has taken care to bury them deep.”

Bigsby wrapped a possessive hand around her narrow waist.

I glanced at the chunky diamond and ruby—encrusted horseshoe gold ring on Bigsby’s middle finger. “That’s a unique ring you have there, Calhoune. It’s one of a kind, I’m sure.”

Bigsby smiled cockily. “Yes, it is. I’ve had it for over forty years. It’s custom-made.” He looked over at Ariella. “And I’ll never take it off.”

Ariella sighed heavily, looking at the gaudy ring with disgust. “Believe me, I’ve tried.”

Bigsby winked at Ariella. “It’s my good-luck charm. You will have to pry it off my dead body, sweetheart.”

She stared back with a simple look and said plainly, “Do I really have to wait that long?”

Bigsby laughed loudly. “You’re such a minx.”

Mitch waved to someone across the room and then looked apologetically over at me. “Can you excuse us? We need to make the rounds before dinner is served.”

“I’m leaving anyway. I have important business to attend to,” I responded.

Mitch looked disappointed. “I seated you at our table with Ariella and Bigsby, but I understand.” He started to usher the couple away. “We’ll talk this week.”

Exiting the venue, trying hard to contain my building rage, I pulled out my cell and barked, “Kevin, dig up everything you can on Bigsby Calhoune.”

* * *

Unclasping my fingers, I said, “The plan is now in motion. After all these years, we’ve finally found the ring. What are the odds of that?”

Ram leaned forward. “We’ve been searching for that shit for years, and it’s been right under our noses.” He paused. “So what’s Sinthia’s connection?”

“I don’t know. Kevin dug up some interesting intel about Bigsby looking into Sinthia Michaels’s business. If he’s interested in her and her business, there has to be a pretty damn good reason.” I leaned back in my chair, smiling coldly. “Now he has to deal directly with me.”

When I’d gotten the call from Kevin about Bigsby’s interest in Sinthia, my first question had been,
Who the fuck is Sinthia Michaels?

It hadn’t taken Kevin long to do a thorough investigation, but he hadn’t found anything linking Bigsby to her. I had known though that if Bigsby was interested in Sinthia, there had to be a sinister motive, which was why I had to acquire Sinthia Michaels’s business fast. I’d had Kevin search through her background again, looking for anything that could be used as leverage. Surprisingly, Sinthia was squeaky clean and free of scandal. Frustrated and running out of time and options, I found a chink in her armor—money.

She needed money, and I had lots of it. But to my frustration, I couldn’t find a way to get into Sinthia’s small inner circle without raising suspicion or scaring her off.

That was when Kevin had found the game changer—Tabitha Thorp. I had known Tabitha from the old neighborhood. When we were young, we had hung out in the same criminal circles. The only difference was back then, the now-famous Tabitha had worked as a drug mule for her seedy drug kingpin boyfriend, Ben Vargos. I knew Tabitha. I’d even fucked her several times behind Ben’s back. She was a money-hungry whore who could be easily manipulated.

So when I found out the currently successful Tabitha Thorp owed a shitload of money to her unsavory criminal ex-boyfriend, Ben, I swooped in. One call later, I’d recruited Tabitha to help me get close to Sinthia. Tabitha had convinced Sinthia of the value of getting an investor—specifically, me—to help her expand her business. In exchange, I’d agreed to pay off Tabitha’s debt to Ben and send her on a very long vacation.

Bigsby was a dirty criminal underneath his slick, cleaned-up politician veneer. I still couldn’t figure out why Bigsby’s socialite fiancée, Ariella, would marry a lowlife, but she had cleaned Bigsby up like some stray puppy she’d found on the street. She’d gotten Bigsby a well-paid publicist, and she was now helping him run for mayor.

“Bigsby Calhoune might have a new identity and life, but he’s still the power-hungry thug who killed my mother and left me to die. He’s going to pay for what he did,” I hissed.

I had thought of nothing but revenge for years. It consumed me. Just thinking about the night when the unknown assailant had shot both me and my mother, execution-style, fueled my hate fire. My mother had died, but I survived.

I stood up, absently tracing the scar across my brow while staring at the Manhattan skyline. “Bigsby is unfinished business, business I’ve been waiting to resolve for far too many years.”

“I saw the picture and read the newspaper article about Sinthia Michaels. But what does she really look like?” Ram asked.

I shrugged. “A stunner with curves in all the right places.”

“A stunner?” Ram laughed. “I’ve heard you describe women as fuckable, but never a stunner.” He paused. “Interesting.”

“There’s nothing interesting about it. She’s definitely fuckable, but I don’t mix business with pleasure, especially not this business.”

“I see.”

I looked over my shoulder. “It’s not that deep, Ram.”

Ram snorted. “A fuckable stunner? Well, that’s a game changer when it comes to your track record with women.”

“I’m going nowhere near Sinthia Michaels. I don’t need the complication.” Turning back around, I continued to stare at the skyline.

My life was difficult enough, and I didn’t need any distractions, particularly now that I’d found my mother’s killer. Besides, I wasn’t relationship material. I never was and never would be.

Watching my mother getting killed had changed me, shaping me into the man I was today—a sadistic, driven, ruthless, cold, and heartless killer. I was the product of my environment. Growing up in a rundown part of Manhattan and fighting every kid on the block who would talk shit about my young, single mother, who had performed at strip clubs to earn a living, had done that to me. At a young age, I’d seen and lived through shit that most people would only see in movies. Those things were not easily forgotten—like people being gunned down ruthlessly in broad daylight or single mothers giving blowjobs in alleyways so they could pay rent and put food on the table.

I had come a long way from those days and now had more money than I could ever spend, but the memories remained. I would never forget where I’d come from or the day when my world had changed forever, leading me to the ultimate task before me—avenging my mother’s murder.

I had been doing my homework when I heard my mother’s bloodcurdling scream. I remembered how the adrenaline rushed through my veins as I ran from the living room into the kitchen where I’d seen her being pinned against the wall by a big, burly man whose back was facing me. I watched in horror as the man repeatedly beat my mother’s face to a pulp. I had felt helpless before I charged, jumping onto the man’s back while trying to claw his eyes out of his head.

I could still hear the bone-crunching thud my mother’s frail body made as the man slammed her to the floor.

The man had yelled, “You little bastard, you’re dead!” Then he swung around and grabbed me by the neck before throwing me clear across the kitchen.

My head had smashed against the corner of the counter before my body bounced onto the floor. Dazed, I slowly reached my hand up to my head. I felt the oozing thickness of gushing blood across my eyebrow, but I refused to give in to the pain. My mother needed me, and I couldn’t do anything to help her.

My heart had leaped out of my chest when my mother screamed, “Leave my son alone, you fucking bastard. This is between you and me, damn coward.”

The man charged at her, pulling a .357 magnum from his beltline. “Shut the fuck up, whore. You brought this on yourself. I warned you to keep your damn mouth shut!” he yelled while grabbing her by the hair with one hand.

Turning her face away from himself, the man had placed the gun to her head. It had seemed like an eternity to me as I stared at the ruby and diamond—encrusted horseshoe gold ring on the man’s middle finger. It was the last thing I recalled before hearing the sound of the gun being fired, and then my world had gone completely dark.

I had been near death when Ram found me choking on my blood on the gore-soaked kitchen floor, but it had been too late for my mother. Ram saved my life, and we made a pact that day. The man who killed my mother would pay with his life.

Young, wild, and ruthless, Ram and I had risen quickly in the world of organized crime, building our empire from the bottom. As the years passed, we never forgot the man without a face, only knowing him by his ruby-and-diamond ring.

Our criminal territory had expanded. Life and money had been good, but we knew we had to get out or we’d end up like so many of our friends—dead or in jail. So it hadn’t been a hard choice to decriminalize our business and turn our lives around, but I wouldn’t rest until I made the man with the ring pay.

“Sinthia Michaels is all business, and I’m willing to destroy her business in order to take down Bigsby,” I retorted.

Ram’s face tightened. “You know how I feel about this shit. We’ve been through hell and back together, so there’s no question about me helping you take him down. But this is between you, me, and him. No one else. Cut the Sinthia Michaels chick loose.”

My temper flared. “I don’t give a shit about her!” I snarled.

I needed Sinthia Michaels as bait, and if that meant she might become a casualty in my war against Bigsby, then so be it.

“She’s already involved whether she knows it or not, and I have no intention of letting her go until I get what I want—Bigsby.” I pulled out a cigar. “Now we’ve got lots of work to do. We need to call every retailer that we own a major stake in and let them know the Sinthia Michaels deal doesn’t happen until we personally approve it.”

CHAPTER

7

Sin

Less than three hours later, the cab pulled up in front of the huge building. My stomach was queasy, and my head throbbed as I gawked at the structure.

I looked into the rearview mirror, meeting the gaze of the cab driver. “Are you sure this is the right place?”

The driver drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. “Lady, this is the address you gave me.” He jabbed a big finger toward the sign. “See that? McKay Corporation.”

I frowned. “This can’t be right.”

“Young lady, if you want to go to another address, tell me where to go. If not, pay the fare.”

I bit my lower lip. “No, I’m good.” I paid before hopping out.

Pulling damp tendrils of hair away from my neck, I stared at the huge sign,
McKay Corporation
, as if it were a mirage. A shiver of trepidation ran down my spine. This was all wrong—first the Ram call, then Tabitha’s disappearing act, and now this. Someone was fucking with me, and I wanted to know who and why. Pulling myself to my full height, I walked confidently through the glass doors and over to the guest desk.

“I’m here to see Mr. Steele.” I tapped my fingers on the counter, hoping the man would say I was in the wrong building.

The guard looked at me blankly. “Ms. Michaels, ID, please.”

Shit! I’m at the right building.
Fumbling inside my handbag, I pulled out my driver’s license and handed it over. “Here.”

He glanced at it briefly. Then he scanned my license through a device on his tablet before smoothly tapping the on-screen keyboard.

I frowned. “What are you doing with my information?”

“Just a security precaution, Ms. Michaels. We record the information from everyone who enters this building.” He nodded toward the elevator as he returned my license. “Top floor.”

The elevator ride up to Steele’s office was the longest one I’d ever taken. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I didn’t like it one bit. If Mr. Steele thought he could just screw me on this deal without a fight, he was damn mistaken. I was prepared to do battle. The elevator dinged, and I stepped out into the palatial suite decorated with ornate eighteenth-century furniture. My eyes immediately went to the office door guarded by two well-dressed, armed men.