Chapter 20
Raphael
Daniel Trotten’s head is down as he paces to and fro next to his Mercedes. He lifts his wrist to check his watch and he frowns deeply, muttering under his breath.
“Trotten!” I call out as I take long strides across the empty parking lot toward him.
He looks up and adjusts his tie. Man, he’s dressed to the nines in a sharply-cut tuxedo and a bow-tie. I get that he’s a lawyer and all, but the man is far too formal for a Saturday night in a small town like Reyfield.
On the other hand, it shows that he’s professional, I guess. He’ll be discreet and discretion is what I need most in this situation.
“Mr. Silver.” He stretches a hand out to me and our palms clap loudly as they connect. He gives me a rough shake.
“Thanks for meeting with me on such short notice,” I tell him. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hotel bar and discuss this over a drink?”
He shakes his head and glances at his watch again. “I’m sorry. I only have a few minutes. I’m picking up my wife. Night at the theater.” His eyes fucking sparkle.
Over taking his wife to the theater? I don’t know this guy’s situation but he must be head-over-heels, hands-tied-behind-back, pussy-whipped.
I resist the urge to shake my head in disgust.
For I too was once young and star-struck by a fair maiden…who had marionette strings attached to her vagina. That Diane was a manipulative bitch.
Anyway, love is for fools and people with too much time on their hands. As for me? Never. Again.
I struggle to ignore the picture of Eva’s smiling face that pops into my mind right at that moment, reminding me that I’m either in denial or a straight-up hypocrite. It’s ridiculous that I try to lie to myself about the way I feel for her. But if I give up the charade and just admit that I want her in my life, then what? Then-fucking-what?
Denying it is easier.
The unsettling truth is that I haven’t been able to get the girl out of my mind. I spent hours last night trying to convince myself that the constant parade of Eva-thoughts streaming through my mind would subside once I deal with this Simon situation and make sure that he’s out of the question for good.
That’s why I’m meeting with Trotten today.
“As you wish,” I say curtly to the lawyer.
He skips over the small talk, evidently eager to get down to business. My kind of attorney. “So you mentioned that you had a legal issue. Something to do with Evangeline Brooks. You said that she was in danger?”
I nod, suddenly realizing that I’m not at all ready to have this conversation. How do I tell this man my story without coming across as a world-class predator? “How well do you know her?”
He sort of shrugs. “Not very well. She’s the sister of my colleague, Prescott. He and I get along really well. In fact, I heard that you were a friend of the Brooks family. Why did you call me instead of going straight to Prescott?”
“What I’m about to tell you, you can’t share it with him,” I blurt out quickly. “You can’t share it with anyone.”
He chuckles shortly, digging his hands into the pockets of his tailored pants. “Okay, Mr. Silver. I’m an attorney. I understand the concept of lawyer-client privilege. You don’t have to worry about me gossiping with Prescott around the water cooler. What you tell me stays between us.”
“This is serious, Trotten!”
At my grave tone, his face goes solemn. “Of course.”
I clear my throat and push back the sleeves of my black Henley, taking a quick glance around the parking lot. I plant my feet shoulder-width apart, grinding my heels into the asphalt. “I didn’t want to go into details on the phone,” I say. “But…”
He gives me an impatient look, telepathically urging me to spit it out. He has a fucking ballet or whatever to get to.
Even though Trotten’s car is the only one in the parking and there’s not another soul in sight, I lean in closer and drop my voice. “I own Evangeline Brooks.”
A long silence follows. The lawyer watches me with a furrowed brow and confusion in his dark eyes as he tries to compute what I’m telling him. “I’m sorry – I don’t think I understand,” he says finally.
“I own her,” I blurt, my own words making me anxious and slightly queasy. “I bought her a few days ago.”
“What do you mean you bought her?”
“I was at an auction in Manhattan –”
“A human auction?”
“A human auction.”
“And you bought Evangeline Brooks?”
“Would you keep your voice down?” I glance around again. I think I’ll need a bottle or two of scotch to get through this meeting. “I was there to close a brokerage deal with one of my sleazeball clients. I had no intention of getting involved in the bidding. But there she was, on the fucking stage, wearing next to nothing. Men were bidding on her, sick, filthy men. And one woman who seemed like she feasts on labias for breakfast. I couldn’t just let one of those freaks buy her…so I did.”
Daniel looks at me like he can’t even believe what I’m saying. Then, his expression morphs into one of disgust and condescension. "Human trafficking is a felony, Mr. Silver."
"Don't you think I know that?” I snap. “I didn't intend on buying anyone. But she's my best friend's daughter. I couldn't just let some random freak buy rights to her body.”
“So you did the honors?”
“Yes, I fucking bought her, okay?”
He slumps back against his car and runs his hand through this neatly-combed dark hair. “Well, I’ve got to say that this is not what I was expecting when I rushed down here tonight. To learn that my friend’s sister is your sex slave.”
“She’s in trouble, Daniel,” I grind out, losing all patience. “I need you to help me. To help her.”
“What kind of trouble? Bigger trouble than her being your goddamned sex slave?” He gives me a sour, judgmental look.
“She owes her modeling agency a hundred thousand dollars. The owner has been threatening her. That’s how she ended up at the auction. That was her last ditch attempt to pay him off…But I can’t let some dipshit extort her. I won’t. You have to find a way to fix this.”
The man glances down at his watch again. “Mr. Silver, surely this can wait until Mon—” He’s headed for the driver’s side door of his car.
“I’m paying you to fix this.” I shove a hand into my pocket and pull out a fat wad of hundreds.
He scoffs in my face, looking all holier than thou, like he’s actually considering refusing me as a client. “I don’t need your money!”
My fingers clench into a fist around the cash. It’s rare that I come across a problem that isn’t easily solved by throwing hundred dollar bills at it. So, I’ll have to be adaptable.
I try to reason with him. “This is someone’s life we’re talking about, Trotten. Your ‘buddy’s’ sister. Some psycho wants to hurt her,” I insist. My point seems to hit home. His movements still. His back tenses under the tux. I’m finally getting through to him. “No – it can’t wait until Monday. You have to deal with it. Today.”
He’s still hesitating. Still looking for a way out. There is none. Because Evangeline’s safety is on the line.
“File a restraining order. Send a cease and desist letter. Get him to back the fuck off because if I have to do it personally, it’s going to get ugly,” I warn as heat rises into my blood.
Slowly turning to face me, he closes his eyes for a long moment. He massages his temples and sighs. “My wife is gonna kill me…” he grumbles as he yanks the car door open. He plops himself behind the steering wheel and slams the door.
Aww. Poor sucker.
After a few moments, the car’s front windows roll down. I lean in through the passenger’s side window and stretch the handful of cash across the console at him. This should make it all better.
He snatches the money out of my hand, giving me a cutting glare. The engine roars to life with the press of a button. I back away as I watch him pull out of his parking spot. He straightens the car, lining it up with the parking lot’s exit. He brings the car to a stop and leans toward me.
“Tell me you paid in cash at that auction…”
I press my lips together and shake my head. I can bring myself to admit out loud that I used a check. I left a damn paper trail.
The lawyer’s eyes darken further. “You really fucked up, y’know,” he growls. And then he pulls out of the parking lot, leaving a trail of dust behind him.