“No, we keep going. Let’s see how many of these contracts we can get out from under him.” I chew on my bottom lip. “Leila.”
“I’m here. I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. He’s close to catching me.” He almost did already. He keeps trying to break down my walls. Each time he gets a little closer to accomplishing it. My defense is shit when it comes to him. He’s not a stupid man either. It will only be a matter of time before he caught on. And I’m not slick enough to continue my little charade.
“You’re quitting? You think that was enough justice for your father?” His tone is harsh and filled with disappointment. “This is our family.”
“I don’t know.” Being close to Warren is getting hard for me too. As much as I hate him, I like him too. He gave me pleasure, something I haven't had in any shape or form in a very long time.
“You’ll do it. I’m not asking or suggesting. You wouldn’t want anyone to get wind of what you’ve already done. Would you?” My hand tightens on the phone. I’m not even sure if what I did is illegal or not. I mean, can I get in trouble for having a fake resume? I don’t think I can. The worst that could happen is that I get fired. And it wouldn’t matter at that point anyway. But I did copy information off his computer and gave it to Chris. I’m sure that could get me in some trouble.
“What are you trying to say?”
“Don’t be a child. I’ll expect more information tomorrow.” He ends the call. I wipe my cheeks, not realizing that I started to cry. I should get out. Take off. Where would I even go? Anywhere is better than jail, I suppose.
I check my bag, making sure I have my wallet at least. I can leave everything else behind. I circle back as the sun starts to set. I’m sure everyone has cleared out from the sight by now. Even Warren. I wonder if he’s out looking for me or if he went back home.
It takes me almost an hour to make it back; my legs are starting to hurt. The only light is coming from the full moon as I approach the building. I check around the building and score when I see wood over an opening that they are likely putting a door into. I slip inside, roaming around the place. I use my cell phone as a flashlight.
All of this heartache over this stupid fucking building. I keep roaming around, not sure what I’m actually looking for. That is until I see it. I stare at the fire alarm. It could be my final FU to Warren. I put my hand on it, running my fingers back and forth.
I close my eyes, taking a deep breath as I pull. My eyes fly open when the alarm starts to blare, and the sprinklers all pop on. Water pours down on me as I take off to make my escape.
“Stop!” I hear someone shout. I look back, seeing a man in a security uniform. My heart drops as his eyes lock with mine.
I run. Fear shoots through as I make my way back to the spot I’d slipped in through. I pull the wood aside, letting myself out. My jacket snags on something, pulling me back. My wet shoes cause my feet to slip from under me, and I hit the ground, knocking the wind out of me.
The back of my head hits something hard, and my vision blurs. I groan, trying to get up, but my body won’t move.
“I think we might need an ambulance. The dumbass hurt herself when she was trying to get away,” I hear the man say. Everything starts to fade in and out.
Finally my eyes jerk open. I try to sit up, but I’m handcuffed to the side of a hospital bed. A dizzy spell hits me, causing the throb in my head to get worse. I fall back down on the bed, trying not to throw up.
“She’s awake,” someone says. A moment later two cops are standing over me.
“You have some explaining to do,” one of them says. Tears start to leak from my eyes.
“Out. All of you. She has a concussion. You can do this shit tomorrow. She’s clearly not going anywhere,” a woman in scrubs barks at the men. “I will not repeat myself.”
“Fine. A police officer will be stationed outside the door.”
“I know how this works. I'm not new here,” she snips back at the cop as she comes over to the side of the bed. “How are you feeling?” she asks.
“Terrible.”
“I’d think so. We had to put ten stitches into the back of your head.” I cringe. “Do you need anything, honey?” She almost looks sorry for me.
“Can I call my uncle?” I ask. She looks over her shoulder before pulling her phone out and handing it to me.
“Two minutes,” she says before she starts checking over the machines around me. I search my mind, trying to remember Chris' number. I close my eyes and picture his number coming up on the screen earlier. I enter it into the phone. It rings twice before he answers.
“Hello.”
“Chris.” Some relief hits me. I’m not sure what he can do, but there has to be something.
“Leila. How fucking stupid are you?” he hisses into the phone. I take it he already knows what happened. “Don’t call me while you’re in police custody. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you.” Before I can say anything else, he ends the call.
I stare down at the phone. He used me. This was all about money and nothing about family at all. More tears fall as the realization dawns on me. I have no one. I miss my mom.
Sobs start to pour from me. I can’t get them to stop. I pull on my arm, starting to panic. I need my mom, but I can’t have her. I’ve lost everything now.
“Leila. I need you to calm down,” the nurse says. I reach up, pulling a bandage off my head. Blood is covering one side of it. Still the sobs don’t stop coming. I can’t breathe.
I go for the IV in my arm, but a man in scrubs grabs my wrist, stopping me. He pulls my hand back, keeping his hold tight on me.
“She’s turning purple,” the man holding my wrist says.
“Got her.” I jerk my head to the woman and watch as she pushes something into the IV. Instantly I start to relax, my body letting go. My eyes feel heavy as I start to slip away to the darkness.
Where I’m always all alone.
Chapter Sixteen
Warren
“War here,” I bark into the phone.
“Warren, I’m sorry—”
“You haven’t found her yet?” I interrupt.
Connor sighs. “No. We’re still working on that, but I have to tell you that the Park Hill deal—”
“Connor, I do not give two shits about the Park Hill deal—”
“We lost it.”
That grabs my attention. “Wait, what?”
“We lost it,” he repeats.
“How did we lose it? The deal was done. Hands were shaken. Promises given.”
“Contracts were not signed.”
“A man’s word is his—”
“Bond, I know. But Joe Rees got a last-minute bid, and it was about two percent higher than yours, so he went with it.”
“Two percent?”
“Yeah, I know. It’s a tiny margin. It’s almost like they knew how much you bid and then cranked it up just enough to make Rees bail on you.”
“That fucking sucks. Who was the last-minute bidder?”
“Some trading LLC. We’re tracking down who is behind it, but the paper trail is dense. Someone’s purposely hiding their identity. The registered agent is some company that offers that service out of Delaware and the corporate headquarters is in Barbados.”