Page 90 of You Owe Me

I glance toward the bedroom, where Maverick is still sleeping peacefully, completely unaware that his girlfriend is about to be blackmailed by a sociopath who just weaponized the federal government against his family.

I could wake him up. Tell him everything. Let him handle Carter the way he handles all threats—with calculated precision and ruthless efficiency.

But what would that cost him? The stress alone could trigger another heart episode. And if Carter follows through on his threats, if the IRS investigation expands, Maverick won’t just be dealing with federal charges. He’ll be dealing with hisgrandfather’s devastation, Cooper’s lost future, and the collapse of everything he’s worked to protect.

No. I got us into this mess. I will get us out.

I creep back into the bedroom and grab clothes from the floor—yesterday’s jeans, a clean shirt, and my tennis shoes. Maverick shifts slightly when I accidentally bump the dresser, but doesn’t wake. His face looks younger in sleep, softer, and the sight of the fresh tattoo over his heart makes my throat close up.

I’m about to break every vow that ink represents.

I leave a note on the kitchen counter—something vague about an early lab session and coffee with Eliza. The lie comes too easily, which probably says something terrible about how much I’ve changed since this nightmare started.

The walk across campus feels like a death march. Every step brings me closer to whatever fresh hell Carter has devised, and every student I pass looks like a potential witness to my impending downfall.

The Daily Grind is already crowded with the early morning coffee rush, which means whatever Carter plans to say will have an audience.

Perfect. Because public humiliation is exactly what this situation needed.

I spot him immediately—khakis, polo shirt, that insufferable smile that makes me want to practice my right hook on his perfectly symmetrical face. He’s already claimed a corner table, two cups of coffee sitting in front of him like this is a friendly meeting instead of emotional terrorism.

“Ainsley,” he greets me warmly as I approach, standing like a gentleman. “You look lovely this morning. A bit tired, perhaps, but that’s understandable given your… eventful evening.”

I don’t sit. “What do you want?”

“I want you to understand that actions have consequences.” His voice is still pleasant, but there’s steel underneath now.“Getting matching tattoos sends a message, Ainsley. You chose to make your allegiance public and permanent.”

“So?”

“So, I decided to make mine public, too.” Carter gestures vaguely toward my phone. “That little tip to the IRS? That’s just the beginning. A warning shot, if you will.”

“You’re insane,” I breathe. “That could destroy his entire family.”

“Could it?” Carter tilts his head with mock concern. “I suppose that depends on whether there’s actually anything irregular to find. And whether the investigation gets the cooperation it needs to reach a swift conclusion.” He motions to the chair. “Have a seat.”

“I’m fine standing.”

“I insist.” His smile turns sharp. “Unless you’d prefer we discuss how anonymous tips have a way of multiplying when the initial one proves… productive.”

The threat is clear. Sit down and keep this quiet, or Carter will ensure the IRS audit expands beyond what any family business could survive. I sink into the chair, my back rigid, hands clenched in my lap.

“Much better.” Carter slides one of the coffee cups toward me. “Oat milk latte. I remembered from our previous encounters.”

The fact that he’s been paying attention to my coffee preferences is somehow more unsettling than the escalation. “Skip the pleasantries. What’s your angle here?”

“Angle?” He presses a hand to his chest in mock offense. “I’m simply trying to help you understand the new reality.”

“Which is?”

“You declared yourself publicly last night.” Carter leans forward, his voice dropping to that dangerous register I’m starting to hate. “Those tattoos aren’t just ink; they’re ownershippapers. And I thought it was time to show you what happens when someone tries to take what I’ve been working toward.”

“Pops’s company has nothing to do with this,” I say desperately. “He’s innocent.”

“Is he?” Carter’s smile is cold.

“Go to hell.”

Carter’s smile is genuinely amused now. “Now, now. Let’s not start planning our vacation yet. Things could change and work out in your favor.”

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