It’s been almost ten years since then and he’s never asked for that favor, so I just assumed he knew to keep his distance from me. I’m sure he knew I’d probably attack him on sight, not to kill him, but to beat the shit out of him. I’d hurt him badly if he were standing in this office right now. He knows it because I’ve already done it once before, but it wasn’t enough to dull my fury at him.
Given the circumstances, it would probably be totally acceptable if I were to even consider the debt paid already and kick his sister out of my office. It’s true he saved my life, but when I caught him fucking my fiancée about four years later, I didn’t kill him. That fucker was invited by me to join The Jameson Group because I trusted him and he’d saved my life. But whenever I was on a mission and Jayce was off duty, he was apparently banging Michelle stateside. I didn’t kill him, but I should have. I stopped after I broke a few of his ribs and knocked some teeth out. By my reasoning, not killing him means I saved his life. So we should be even, right?
In fact, I should tell her that right now. Inform her to tell her brother to suck my dick—that I wouldn’t help him or her if their lives depended on it.
But I don’t.
Because two things strike me at once.
The first being an attack of conscience. I might be a mean son of a bitch and a ruthless leader when warranted, but I don’t ever renege on a promise. I owe him a favor, so he’ll get it.
Second, it occurs to me I could indeed help Jayce’s sister. She says she needs money and with a loan of funds, a repayment plan is in the cards. Add in the fact she’s fucking gorgeous as hell, and well…
I have an excellent idea on how she could repay me.
A way that would not make Jayce happy at all.
Let’s just call it a little bit of sweet revenge.
CHAPTER 2
Trista
I alternate between tugging the hem of my stretchy skirt down my legs and making sure my face stays angled in such a way that my fall of long bangs keeps my eye covered.
The bruise I’m hiding is hideous looking. I’m very self-conscious about it, and not because Jerico Jameson has to be the best-looking man I’ve ever seen in my life. The pictures I saw when I Googled him do not do him justice. There’s no way I could have imagined his hair was actually so dark it was indeed black, or that his green eyes are so light I’d call them the color of bleached jade, but they’re streaked with slivers of rust, which makes them beyond beautiful. And that face… so perfectly put together that he doesn’t seem real.
But I’m not here for his looks.
I’m here for his money, and Jayce assured me Jerico has what I need.
“What kind of money are we talking about?” Jerico asks as he critically studies me.
“Twenty-five thousand,” I say nervously.
“That’s a lot of cash to ask of someone,” he says pensively. “But I do owe Jayce a favor, and I happen to be wealthy.”
“So you’ll help me?” I ask, hope welling up in my chest. For the first time in days, I’m not burdened down with overwhelming fear.
“Maybe,” he says as he leans forward in his chair, crossing his forearms on the desk. “Why do you need it?”
“Family emergency,” I say quickly… maybe a little too quickly because it sounds like a lie.
Jerico’s eyebrows draw inward as his gaze pierces straight through me. “You owe someone the money.”
My eyes go wide with surprise, and I totally give myself away by stammering, “How could you possibly know that?”
He smiles at me like the cat that just ate the canary, because I just admitted it to him. I didn’t want him to know because the details aren’t his business. I just need the money and an agreement by a decent guy to let me pay it back when I’m able to sell my house. Jayce assured me Jerico was the man.
“That bruise beside your right eye that goes down into your cheekbone…” Jerico says, nodding at me. “You’re not hiding it very well. When a woman is beaten and needs money, my first guess is someone’s trying to let her know time is up and it’s going to hurt if she doesn’t pay. The other choice would have been an abused woman needing money to skip town on whatever douche is beating her, but you carry yourself with a little too much confidence for that.”
Okay, so he has me sort of pegged, but he has no clue how weird this “loan shark” thing really is. He’d never believe the deep hole I’ve dug myself into, nor would he respect the circumstances that brought me here to beg for help.
“What was the original loan amount?” Jerico asks.
“Thirteen thousand dollars,” I tell him.
I was loaned thirteen. Now, I owe twenty-five as payment plus interest. But I don’t begrudge any of this because I needed that money and was willing to do anything to get it. The fact that the sale of my house fell through and I couldn’t get the equity out to pay off the loan didn’t really touch my lender’s heart. He came after me and roughed me up good, imposing a final deadline I had better make or I would be hurt a lot worse.
I had four weeks to come up with the funds or my dead, bullet-riddled body would be put out in the Nevada desert for coyotes to tear apart. Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but I don’t want to incur his wrath any further. I just want him out of my life.
I’m pinning my hopes on Jerico Jameson to bail me out, hoping he’ll work out some type of reasonable payment plan. I’m assuming he’s an honorable guy as Jayce seemed positive he’d give me the money with easy repayment terms and a much lower interest.
“What was the money for?” Jerico asks again. “And when do you need it by?”
“Like I said… family emergency.” This was very much true, but he didn’t need to know the details.
My six-year-old niece, who I help my mom care for, needed a heart-valve replacement. Since she’s uninsured, the hospital wanted a deposit before they’d do the surgery. I was able to cash out twenty-seven thousand from my 401K plan, but I had to borrow the other thirteen. It came at a huge risk, but I figured I’d just sell my house, take the equity out of it—which wasn’t much but would at least cover the loan payoff—and all would be fine. Except the people who were going to buy it backed out at the last second, so now I was up shit creek without a paddle.
Since Jerico has asked me twice what the money was for, I expect him to push the issue. Instead, he asks, “What are you offering in terms of repayment?”
I blink at him in surprise. He wants me to suggest something? “Um… well, I need twenty-five to pay off the loan within thirty days. I could maybe pay it back over five years with some interest, of course, for your trouble.”
Jerico gives a bark of laughter, but his expression is not amused. “Miss Barnes, I’m not a bank. I don’t make long-term loans. I’ll give you the money… but at a twenty-two percent rate that would be due thirty days after I give you the money.”
“Impossible,” I whisper. My house was not going to sell, so I couldn’t pay it back that fast. The reason the buyers had backed out was that the home inspection revealed there was major termite damage. It was going to cost thousands to fix it. The house was a no-go. “That puts me in the same exact situation I’m in now.”