Page 14 of The Right Garza
They are thegoodkind of bad.
I’m startled once again when a heavy knock sounds at the door. I dart to it and check the peephole. Seeing Trent on the other side, I jerk the door open and all but pounce on him.
“Did you talk to him? What did he say? Is Ellie okay? Did they hurt her?”
“Whoa. Jesus.” Trent jerks back like I’ve assaulted him. “Wanna let me in first?”
“Oh, right. Sorry.” I nervously scratch the back of my neck and step aside for him to enter. Only then do I notice he’s holding two containers of fruit salad. He walks over to the two-seater and sets them down. “Come sit. Eat.”
“Why is everyone always trying to feed me?” I grumble as I move to the table. “Do I look emaciated or something?”
“I brought you lunch because I figured you’d be here feeding yourself anxiety instead of food.” He drags his gaze over me as he lowers into the chair. “I can see I was right.”
“You’re wrong,” I say as I sit down. “I made tea.”
He glances over to the kitchen counter where the mug of untouched tea sits. “That tea?”
“Oh, shut up.” I kick his foot under the table. “Tell me. What happened?”
Using two fingers, he nudges one of the containers with a plastic fork to me. “Eat.”
Oh, for shit’s sake. I grab the container, pop it open, unwrap the plastic fork, then stab a piece of pineapple and shove it into my mouth. “Hhmmmmyum. So delicious.” I pierce a piece of cantaloupe along with a slice of strawberry and stuff them into my mouth as well. “Ohhhyummy yum yum.Sofilling.”
His lips twitch as he opens his container and slowly unwraps the fork. “Yes, I spoke to him.”
“And what did he say? What—”
“Keep eating. You stop eating, I stop talking.”
“I thought time would havechangedyou from being a browbeating jerk,” I say, shaking my head. “But nope, you’re still irritating.”
He pointedly looks at my fruit salad and arches a brow.
“Okay, okay, I’m eating!” I swear he’s thesameTrenton. The exact same. Manipulative and unapologetic about it. Time has done nothing to soften his edges.
“He’s not dropping the debt.”
Shit. As much as I didn’t expect a miracle, I still held out hope. My mind immediately begins running a million thoughts a second, and no matter which route I channel those thoughts of “maybes” and “what ifs”, all roads lead to selling my soul to Slim.
“Given the timeframe,” Trent continues, pulling me from my racing thoughts, “unless you’re prepared to get in bed with a loan shark, you’re not gonna secure that money quickly enough. Even if youhadgotten away with that necklace today, you wouldn’t have been able to fence it right away.” He forks a grape into his mouth. “So, I’m thinking I could loan you the cash, and see to it that your friend gets out safe.”
At that, my head snaps up. “What?”
“If I pay the 92k, you’ll owe me instead of him.”
I blink at him. Granted, the Garzas weren’t poor growing up, but there weren’t rich either. And sure, Red Cage Investigations is creme of the crop and is no doubt pulling in some good profits, but ninety-two thousand dollars is still a lot of dough to just lend out. Does he really have that kind of money just lying around?
Funny, because a few years ago, that’s the kind of money I’d make in a weekend of counting. Now it feels like a million dollars.
That said, when I think about who I’d rather owe—him, someone I know and somewhat trust, or a bunch of criminals, it’s a no-brainer.
“What would I owe you?”
“We can talk about that later.” Another piece of fruit goes into his mouth. “But it includes you going home.”
Andthere’sthe catch. Sonofabitch buried the lead. I sit back and cross my arms. “You fucker.”
He shrugs, unphased. “What I’ll need you to do as repayment is in L.A., not here.”
