Page 16 of Evidence of Secrets

“My mother died when I was young. I don’t have much of a relationship with my father. He’s on his third…” Hank tapped his fingers on the table. “No. His fourth wife. They live out west.”

“That has to hurt.”

“Nah. I left after I got out of college. We don’t talk much.” Hank shrugged. “It’s fine. I have my job and friends.”

Hank picked up another appetizer to eat. “It’s getting late, and I want to install the camera before it gets dark.”

Laura jumped up. “I’m so sorry. I’ve taken up all your time. But it’s been fun getting to know you better.”

“Yeah, it has been fun. I’ll help you pick up, then we’ll find the right spot for the camera.”

He hesitated. It was now or never. He had to ask. “Would you like to go out sometime? Grab a cup of coffee or a drink?”

Hank hated that his hand shook while holding the platter. He enjoyed talking to Laura and was attracted to her. If she agreed, it would make his day, but she hadn’t answered. Yet.

“I’m sorry. You’re probably seeing someone. I should have asked first.” Hank’s chest tightened. Had he misread the subtle signals she’d been sending?

Laura’s brow creased. “No, that isn’t it. The restaurant takes up so much of my time, and there’s little free time available. If you’re flexible or don’t mind going out on a Monday, I’d love to go out with you.”

Hank did a mental fist pump. He could work with Mondays. In fact, any time Laura had available, he could make work. Hank liked what he had heard from her so far. She was intelligent, pretty, tenacious, and confident—his type of woman.

Except for the fact she wasn’t a one-night stand or a fling. Jake made that abundantly clear. But he could work with that.

CHAPTERTHIRTEEN

Ryan walked into the cool interior of Ruskin and Ruskin. He pulled out a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Why anyone came to Florida in the summer was beyond imagination. It was beautiful with its clear blue skies and palm trees, but he’d had enough humidity in Georgia. When he retired—and wasn’t that a laugh?—Ryan wanted to find an island that had cool breezes all year round.

He didn’t know either Ruskin, but his father had and trusted them to keep their mouths shut. The mob had no idea his father used Ruskin Law Firm. The elder Ruskin died a few years ago, and today Ryan was meeting with the son.

All the background work was completed for his new life. A trust was set up in the Caymans with most of the millions he found in his father’s safe deposit box. Ryan could only shake his head when he saw it. Good ol’ dad had to have been skimming money for years. How no one noticed, Ryan didn’t know and, frankly, didn’t care as long as he wasn’t caught with it. Setting up banking in the Caymans had been easy. He stayed a week soaking up the sunshine and had just flown into Florida.

At some point, he would need new identification. No sense starting over only to have Fingers or someone worse find him.

“Can I help you?” a blond-haired, blue-eyed twenty-something asked him from behind the large reception desk.

“I have an appointment with Wallace Ruskin,” said Ryan.

She tilted his head slightly, looking him up and down, and when he met her gaze, she winked. “Ah, yes. Mr. Hall. I’ll tell Mr. Ruskin you’re here. Please take a seat. Can I get you anything?”

Ryan glanced at the nameplate—Daisy Winters. Why yes, you could get me something, Daisy. How about a blow job? Ryan shook his head. Not now. Maybe he’d ask Ms. Winters out after discussing his business with Ruskin. She looked like a good time, and he desperately needed one. It’d been a while since he had his cock sucked or had any kind of sex. Great. Now that he was thinking about sex, his cock was hard. What he should be thinking about was losing fingers or worse.

He thanked Daisy, then turned. Four oversize gray chairs were placed around a square glass table. Ryan chose the chair closest to the reception desk and waited. The leather was cool against his skin. The office was quiet, although he could hear faint voices in the back hall. Ruskin and Ruskin had twenty lawyers on staff, and who knew how many paraprofessionals and administrative assistants there were? The offices were on the fifteenth floor of a brick building overlooking downtown Black Pointe. Prime real estate.

“Mr. Hall. I’m Wallace Ruskin.”

A short, red-haired man stood in front of him. Ryan never met Wallace Ruskin although he’d spoken to him on the phone about the Salt & Sea. His father trusted both Ruskins with his sometimes not-quite-legal business.

Ryan stood and shook hands.

“Come on back, and we’ll discuss why you’re here today.”

Ryan followed Wallace past several large offices with assistants sitting out front. No one looked at him or acknowledged him in any way. Finally, Wallace stopped at the end of the hall and entered a huge room surrounded by glass windows. Ryan walked over.

“Great view.” He could see the Riverwalk and the ocean farther away.

“It is.” Wallace smiled. “We were fortunate to buy this building years ago when no one wanted to live downtown.”

Ryan nodded. There weren’t too many places available anymore to get in on the ground floor unless you were building new. The building must have cost a pretty penny.

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