Chapter Five
Rachel stared out the window of the car, thankful her thousandth Uber driver since The Betrayal wasn't a talker. She wasn't getting into any vehicle with Trick Masters.
A coldness had seeped through her muscles at Trick's final questions about Jay. The idea that her stepbrother had anything to do with their disappearing trust fund was ridiculous. He didn't need to steal anything. At least half that money belonged to him.
Her mind sifted through the last three years. In the beginning Jay called every week. Then his calls got less frequent, which she'd hardly noticed as she’d been busy trying to piece her life back together. Next thing she knew, he was in the middle of the ocean somewhere where internet and cell service wasn't exactly de rigueur.
“Are you ever calling me back?” she asked the silent phone in her hand. Trick always did make her crazy—like speak to inanimate objects and have sex against a door with her embezzling ex-fiancé kind of crazy.
She hit speed dial number one again. By the grace of God, he answered.
“Hey—”
“Where have you been?” she cried into the phone.
“Jesus, Rachel. Take it down a notch. Whatever happened to hello?” Jay's voice sounded sleepy.
“Whatever happened to calling your sister back?”
“Was about to after your latest message. How the hell did Trick find you?”
“I have no idea.”
“Stay away from him, Rach.”
“I am.” Sort of. “Where are you?”
“Working.”
Was that a muffled woman’s voice? More than one woman, she thought.
“Who are you with?” she asked.
“No one.” A door closing sounded in the background. “Listen, Trick wants one thing. Revenge. Remember that.”
Was he peeing while they were on the phone? Men.
“Revenge?” she asked, trying not to listen to the tell-tale splash in the background. “What happened is not our fault. I've been reconsidering. I think it was Peter.”
“Rachel, let it go. We agreed to move on, remember?”
She sighed heavily at the flushing sound. “Seriously, Jay?”
“I mean it, Rach. Seeing Trick now—”
“I'm not seeing him.”
“Promise me.” His voice grew steely, which kind of pissed her off. She'd have yelled, but her therapist's voice rang in her brain. Stop sign. Jay was trying to help, after all.
“Have some faith in me, Jay. I think he's got money. He might be rolling in it, actually. His Hugo Boss suit wasn't cheap, and I recognized real antiques in his office.”
An exasperated sigh seared her ear. “Trick is a player, sis. Promise me you won’t go back to him. Now do the thing so I know you mean it.”
A laugh rumbled in her throat at the mention of their secret promise ritual. She made the sign of an X on her forehead and her heart and tapped her palm, a virtual safe to protect the sworn oath. “It's in the vault. Did you do it, too?”
“Of course. In the vault. In the meantime—”
“I know, I know. Stay away. Did you get my last transfer?” She'd been sending him money to the same PayPal address for the last three years. Not much, a hundred dollars here and there, but it made her feel better.
“Yeah, thanks. I appreciate it.”
“You know I'm here for you. That at least deserves a call now and again, right?”
“Of course.”
“How about a visit? My birthday is coming up.”
“I remember. Listen, can I call you later? I just got up and—”
“Sure.”
“Love ya, sis.” The phone line went dead before she had a chance to say another word. Her eyes pricked but she tamped down any potential tears. She knew it must have shamed Jay to take money from his sister.
Damn Trick Masters.
She raised an image of Trick to fuel the familiar anger toward him. It helped her retain that steel backbone. It galled her to no end to recall his expensive suit in his expensive-looking office. He also was still good at sex, which, while she had been a willing participant, royally pissed her off. He acted like he hadn't lost anything, like he was doing fine. Well, she hadn't been fine, and it was time to turn things around. She may be directionless, single, and poor, but she wasn't helpless. She was going to get their trust fund money from Trick. She'd then get Jay off that oil rig, because Lord, he sounded tired on the phone. She would go back to school. Or they would start over, even start that business she'd forgotten to bring up with Jay. Damn.
She redialed his number and got voice mail. Seriously? She hung up.
Next time she called Jay she'd have something worthy of him returning her call—real news.
“Hey,” she said to the Uber driver. “Can you turn around? I forgot something.”
The driver shrugged and put on his turn signal.
She'd been impulsive before. Now she was going to be smart. There was only one thing to do—steal the money back.