Two
Justice
I had nearly put my fist through a wall when I found out that Devin Stonebreaker was on the board of directors for United Bank.
United Bank of La Fortuna, employer of the curvy, sexy and delectable Lola.
In six years, a lot sure had changed in this sleepy town. My sweet best friend Lola, the first girl I’d ever kissed, first girl I’d ever made love to, first girl I’d ever said the words, “I love you” to, had grown up to become a corporate America sellout who carried a leather briefcase.
Devin had phoned me that morning to arrange a meeting, and I took my time getting to my motorcycle. Make him wait.
I swung one leather boot over my Triumph, settled in and patted the gas tank. The motorcycle was all I had left of my beloved uncle. I swallowed hard remembering how we’d worked on the bike together.
I kickstarted the bike and tore off through the main drag of the town where I’d grown up, the wind whipping at my face. Past the Grind and Gossip coffee house, past the Beauty For Life anti-aging boutique where Lola’s stepmom worked, past La Rosa, the town’s premier five-star hotel, and pulled into the parking garage of Devin’s office building.
I looked around at all the expensive cars in the garage. BMW, Mercedes, even a freaking Alfa Romeo. I swung my leg over the Triumph, hit the kickstand and made my way to the elevators.
* * *
“Welcome to Stonebreaker Development.” The receptionist was a sexy redhead with a blouse so low-cut it belonged at a cocktail party. She tapped scarlet fingernails on her desk and looked me up and down. “You must be Mr. Stonebreaker’s ten o’clock.” She smiled a flirty smile. “Coffee? We’ve got espresso.” She thrust her ample chest out. “Or maybe a nice hot cocoa?”
I clutched my helmet as though it were a protective shield. My gaze flicked to the hallway as I took in the thick pile carpet, the original artwork, the antique furniture. “Thanks, but no. Where’s the big man?”
Devin strode toward me, hand outstretched. With his spiky brown hair, intense green eyes and movie star dimples, he was handsome in a GQ kind of way. Even if I did tower over him by eight inches.
I nodded my head. “Devin.”
“Come on back, old friend. Lots of catching up to do.”
I followed him like a goddamn kid called to the principal’s office.
“Make yourself at home.” I fell into a comfy chair, and he swept his arm in a grand gesture.
In La Fortuna, success in the freaking business world seemed to be determined by the view. Devin’s corner office held a jaw-dropping vista of the Pacific Ocean, the high priced homes perched on the hilltops a never-ending panorama. “Long way from high school, right old buddy?” I wanted to wipe his smirk right off his dimple-faced mug.
He sat behind his humongous desk and leaned forward, all business. “Surprised to find out I bought the mortgage on your uncles’ shop? Sorry about your uncle, by the way.” My jaw clenched followed by a pounding in my ears. “You’ve got thirty days to come up with fifty thousand or the surf shop is mine.”
He stood up and like a magician, unveiled an architectural rendering that sat perched on an easel. “Wait until you see my plan.” His pinkie ring twinkled in the morning light as he pointed out his grand scheme using a gold pen as a pointer. “This is where the Whole Foods will go. Where the surf shop is now.” His too loud voice was full of bluster as he pointed to the second level. “State-of-the-art lofts with the latest in architectural design go here.” He winked at me. “Buyers are already lined up. They can’t wait for those farmhouse sinks and concrete countertops.”
Devin was enjoying my misfortune way too much. Don’t sink to his level. But of course, I did. “When did you become such a slime?”
He rounded the desk and leaned against the polished wood, trying to give himself the competitive edge. “Justice, Justice. Such foul language. Slime? Is that what you call your oldest friend?” He leaned forward. “I became a slime, as you call it, when I got sick and tired of staying in fleabag motels in Mexico, eating cheap tacos and surfing on some crappy foam board with a hole in it because that’s all I could afford.”
Electricity practically shot off Devin’s body as he stood up and paced the room. “I wanted more.” He pointed to a fancy framed diploma. “Did you know I went to Stanford? ‘Course you didn’t. You may as well have fallen off the edge of the earth when you left town. Where have you been all these years? Living in a shack as a surf bum?” He laughed. “I have money. Kristin and I stay at the Ritz when we travel. I live in a house on the hill. Long way from that peanut-butter-and-jelly life my mom forced me into.”
I stood up, my chin high. I wanted to rip his architectural drawing in half and stomp on it with my leather boots. “I don’t give a damn where you went to school. The shop isn’t going anywhere. No way am I letting you take over the Blue Tide.”
“You haven’t got anything to say about it. Not unless you’ve got fifty-grand.”
I wanted to swipe my arm across Devin’s desk and clear off all his stupid knick-knacks—the freaking Zen garden with white sand and miniature rake, the Bonsai tree, the neatly lined-up gold pens and pencils. I jabbed a finger in his face. “You’ve got no right.”
He smiled a patient smile. “I have every right. The shop will be mine, and you can go back to wherever the hell you came from.” He eyed my boots. “And get those dirty shoes off my white carpet.”
“When did you become such a hard ass? And why did you make me come out here if you’re just going to repeat what Lola already told me?”
“Ah, the lovely Lola. She handles all my foreclosures. Does a damn good job of it too.” He grinned. “And she’s got one hell of a sexy figure.”
How dare he look at Lola’s body? “Don’t talk about her that way.”
He ignored me and settled himself at his desk, leaning back and putting his feet up on the polished wood. “She’s the bank’s top collector. I guess being good looking doesn’t hurt things. Right?” He folded his arms. “Fifty-grand, Justice.”
Where the hell was I going to get that kind of money? I made enough money from In Your Yard, my traveling motorcycle mechanic business, to keep me in surf wax, rent money, and new surfboards. I pressed my lips together. “I’ll get you the money.”
The delightful aroma of designer perfume wafted into the room as Devin’s wife, Kristin entered. When she saw me, her mouth formed an O. “Justice! When did you get into town?” I smiled at my old high school friend. Kristin looked like she’d just gotten back from exercise class—blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, the latest in designer workout wear hugging her athletic body.
Kristin had the unfortunate bad luck of falling for Devin’s charms. She was a likable chick whose father was responsible for most of the town’s wealth to the tune of a few billion made from his pharmaceutical company. “Hi, Kristin.” I stood up and held her lily-white hand placing a soft kiss on the knuckles. “It’s an extreme pleasure. Time certainly has made you more beautiful.”
Her ponytail bounced, and her face turned pink. “Oh, well. I didn’t mean to interrupt your meeting.”
“No interruption at all. I was just leaving.” I planted my feet wide and pointed at Devin. “But I’ll be back.”
Devin stared at me, his green eyes ice chips. “Thirty days, Justice.” He squinted his smile hard. “Then the bulldozers show up.”