Chapter Sixteen
Over the course of the next week, Rachel made it her mission to discover something about the club that would prove Gabe wasn’t involved. At least not to the extent that he had any real ties to it other than possibly being a member. Because when she eventually published the article—she’d have to if the club existed, which she was pretty sure it did—she couldn’t let Gabe’s name appear in it.
But why would Gabe be receiving statements from Helping Hands if he didn’t have direct ties to the club? She hoped that everyone who belonged to the club got a statement like that, but she had no way of knowing. Well, no ethical way. It wouldn’t make sense that Mike would have chosen Gabe, who had only played in the area for a few years, when Mike most likely had lifelong friends who would be willing and able to inherit the club.
But that revelation did nothing to calm her nerves. Once the story published, her relationship with Gabe would be over. There was no coming back from what she’d done, and she knew that. She couldn’t say she was there writing an article about Gabe and then publish one about a secret club, even if Gabe’s name was never linked to it. She’d betrayed his trust. Trust that she valued.
And the truth was, she hadn’t found anything worth investigating. At least not without using illegal means to do so. Jared had already gotten some information about the bank, but it had been general information about its location and use. She’d scoured every detail of the customer list he’d sent, but a list of names and addresses didn’t mean much. So those people belonged to the bank in some way? That didn’t prove anything. There were athletes and non-athletes alike, and she had no way of knowing which ones, if any, were involved in the club.
But then there had been a second email Jared had sent—she assumed with Gabe’s financial records—the one she’d seen appear in her inbox but had never opened. Whether her reluctance to take that step was due to her morals or the fact that she was scared she’d see Gabe’s role in all of this she didn’t know. Still, the email had remained closed. Though when she'd received it, there was something inside her that told her not to delete it entirely.
She opened her computer and hovered the mouse over Jared’s email, which he’d appropriately titled “In case you need it….” She needed it. She really needed it. But she couldn’t bring herself to look at it. At least not yet.
Picking up her phone, she scrolled through her contacts until she found Rick’s name. She hadn’t spoken to her boss in a couple weeks, and she knew he’d want good news. Unfortunately, she didn’t have any to give him.
When he answered, he sounded hopeful. “Rach, what’s new on the Philly beat? You find what you’re looking for yet?”
“No one says ‘Philly beat,’” Rachel said on a soft laugh, but she was thankful for the short reprieve from her worry. “And not much, really. That’s actually what I called about. I’m kind of stuck. I don’t doubt the club exists, but I’m not sure I can prove it. And I have no idea how to find out who the major players are. Has anyone talked to Barnes again? I think he’s our best option right now.” Rachel could hear how quickly she was talking, but she needed to rip the Band-Aid off and tell Rick she didn’t have anything.
She heard Rick sigh heavily. “Barnes is back in rehab. He’s not gonna be talkin’ to anyone for a while. I already tried, but it’s one of those fancy-shmancy places that rich people go to.”
It was Rachel’s turn to sigh. “I don’t know where to go from here, then.” She hoped Rick would offer a suggestion or at least a bit of empathy. But she should’ve known better. Rick was a good guy—and she’d consider him more of a friend than most people would consider their boss—but when it came down to it, Rick had a job to do. And that job involved making sure Rachel did hers.
“Well you better figure it out quick,” Rick snapped. “This may have just been a unicorn in the beginning, but now we need it. It’s not just your ass on the line, it’s mine too. I fought for you to stay in Philly. You think Beckett wanted to spend a small fortune putting you up in some apartment in another city indefinitely?”
She knew Mark Beckett, the magazine’s owner, had approved the funding for her investigation, but she didn’t know Rick had ‘fought’ for it. She didn’t like owing people favors. “I didn’t ask you to fight for me.”
“No, but that doesn’t change the fact that I did. And I did it because I believed you could uncover this story. I believed in you. But if Beckett thinks he spent a shit ton of money on something that doesn’t pan out, in my mind only one of two things can happen. Beckett’ll fire both of us, or he’ll only fire you and send somebody to finish what you started down there. You might wanna note that both scenarios involve your sudden unemployment. So before you throw in the towel, you should probably make sure you’ve exhausted all your options.”
“’Kay,” was all Rachel could say without her voice shaking audibly. And with that, she said a quick goodbye, told Rick she’d be in touch, and hung up the phone.
***
“What’s in this thing, a dead body?” Jace leaned down to set the huge box back down on the skid. They’d picked it up only moments earlier before realizing that the two of them probably couldn’t move it on their own.
“It’s a new blackjack table. Solid oak, so yeah,” Gabe said, “it’s heavy. That’s another downside to owning this place. Can’t have anyone deliver anything inside. It was risky enough to have them drop it out front like this.” Gabe began pulling the box apart while he spoke. “We gotta put it together anyway, so we can take it inside piece by piece since that'll be easier.”
“I charge extra for assembly,” Jace joked. “I was hired solely on the assumption that I’d be the muscle.”
Gabe stared at him. “You’re never the muscle. Speaking of which, I gotta get a new bouncer. One of the guys is moving out to Washington because his daughter’s having a baby, and he wants to be closer to it.”
Jace shook his head. “It’s a human being. You can’t just call it an it.”
“You just did.”
Jace looked confused until finally it seemed he realized what Gabe meant.
“And what’s with the sudden urge to defend babies? Aly’s not pregnant, is she?” The guys pulled most of the box apart and began grabbing some of the pieces to take inside.
“Nah,” Jace answered. “But we’ll probably try right after we get married. We both want a big family.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Wouldn’t it be awesome to have a bunch of little Bennings running around? It’d be like my own personal football team.”
Gabe stopped walking and turned around, wondering if he was serious. Why the hell anyone would want a bunch of kids he’d never understand. “I don’t know, man. That’s a lot of responsibility. And a football team? That’s a lot of fuckin’ kids. They poop and cry and hit each other and they want dinner every night.” Gabe couldn’t even imagine what it was like to have a large family. Growing up, it had only been him and his mom until he moved to the United States. He was used to flying solo, and he’d come to accept it would probably always be that way. At least he was until Rachel had come back into his life.
“I realize what they do, Gabe. I have like a million nieces and nephews,” he reminded him before continuing to walk.
“Yeah, but they’re not your kids. It’s different when they’re your own, ya know?”
“I guess, yeah. But what do you know about kids?”
Gabe laughed as if the question were ridiculous. “I know more than you think. Running this business is like raising a bunch of children. I have to keep track of what they’re doing and who they’re talking to, sometimes they ask for more money, or complain to me about their co-workers. The struggle is real.” Gabe tried to make his voice light, but he wasn’t actually kidding. Running the club had been a lot more difficult than he’d anticipated, and so far the rewards hadn't made up for it. Though he hoped with time they would.
“It can’t be that bad,” Jace said. “The place seems to run smoothly, and the guys seem happy. You’d never know it’s been tough on you.”
Gabe put a piece of the table down and leaned it carefully against the building so he could open the door, and then Jace held it open while Gabe picked the wood back up again. “That’s good to hear,” Gabe said. “I guess it’s nothing major. That Barnes guy hasn’t been bothering me anymore. I don’t know.” He sighed. “It’s all the little shit that adds up to being a pain in the ass. Like the bouncer thing. Oh, and I didn’t even tell you that my bank called and said their whole system was hacked a few weeks ago, did I?”
“No. Shit, really?”
“Yeah, it fuckin’ sucks. And I don’t even know how the bank is handling it or if they have any precautions in place to keep it from happening again. I mean, I’d assume they would up their security, but I have no idea how any of that computer shit works. I can barely order a pizza online.”
“Yeah, I hear ya,” Jace said as he put down the pieces of the table he’d brought in. “I don’t understand much about technology either. I wonder what they could even do with whatever information they got. You don’t have a credit card or anything from that bank, do you?”
“No. Nothing. Only the accounts that Mike had set up years ago. The lawyers just had my information transferred onto everything. I let them handle all that and signed whatever papers I was supposed to sign and that was it. The whole thing makes me nervous, but I don’t even know what there is to be nervous about.” He ran his hands roughly through his hair in frustration and settled them on the top of his head, sighing deeply. “God, I have no idea what I’m doing.”
Jace laughed. “Do you ever?”