“I swear to you,we’re doing everything we can to get to the bottom of this,” Special Agent Marquez insisted.
Cayla bit back the bitter laugh that wanted to spill out. “I came to you six years ago because I believed you’d be able to see that he was stopped and punished for all the people he’d hurt. You assured me you would. Yet here we are, with him out of the cage on some kind of technicality, free to go back to exactly what he was doing before. Except instead of strangers, he’s doing it to me. To my husband. To my friends. You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t think your best is currently good enough.”
Was her accusation harsh and unfair? Maybe. But she was beyond giving a damn. The past couple of weeks had shown her exactly how poor the protections she’d put into place really were. Arthur might not be able to lay hands on her physically, thanks to Holt, but he could get to her every other way. And she knew he’d continue to prove it until someone stopped him.
Special Agent Marquez sighed. “I know this really means nothing, under the circumstances, but I really am sorry. I wish things were moving quicker. But we’re trying to be thorough. To make sure we don’t have a repeat of this appeal when we put him away again. And we will put him away again. We just need time.”
“Unfortunately, that’s something we may not have. Please keep me informed.”
After listening to his empty assurances, Cayla hung up and dropped her face into her hands. She’d known before she called him that the FBI wouldn’t be able to do anything. But she’d reported the details, exactly as she’d promised. She’d contacted the FTC and the credit bureaus, starting the same process Holt and the guys had already begun. What more could they do? They were meeting with an attorney in Johnson City tomorrow to go over the petition and formulate a response. That was the next logical step. But financially? She didn’t know how they were going to weather this.
She’d dipped into savings to finish outfitting her office as a business growth tactic. Certainly, she had business coming in—thank God—but would it be enough to cover them with the bakery being in a precarious financial position itself? In all reality, Arthur had financially hobbled them. They could limp along for a while longer, but if anything else happened, they’d be completely screwed. Not to mention the question of how they were going to afford the attorney if the custody suit had any real grounds.
From the living room, she could hear the low rumble of Holt’s voice. He’d been on the phone with Cash for the last twenty minutes going over the latest. She wasn’t exactly clear on what it was Cash was doing, but Holt had let slip that he was former Army Intelligence, so maybe he had some skills or access to information the FBI couldn’t tap. At this point, she didn’t care who put Arthur behind bars again, only that they do it soon.
Her phone rang. Unknown number.
With a sense of foreboding, she hit answer. “Hello.”
“Hello, Cayla.” Arthur’s familiar, supercilious voice sent a chill down her spine.
“What do you want?”
“I only want what’s mine. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“And what exactly do you consider yours?” She knew, but this was how the game was played.
“Well, you’ve gotten the custody paperwork by now.”
Her hand curled tight around the edge of the table, knuckles going white. “Yes.”
“Your case isn’t going to look very good. You’re not very financially stable to provide for our child.”
It wasn’t an outright admission, and there was no way to start a recording on her phone. A recording wouldn’t be admissible in court either way. This wasn’t evidence. But she knew.
Banana Bread padded into the kitchen, laying her head on Cayla’s knee with a whine. She curled her hand in the dog’s fur, appreciating the support. “And what would you know about my financial situation?”
She could practically hear him smile. “Enough. Unfortunately, these sorts of things usually get worse long before they get better. Bad luck seems to spread like a virus.”
Was that a threat? It sounded like a threat. Did he mean he could make the situation worse for her? Or was he talking about expanding his targets, going after more people in her circle?
“There is one way to fix it,” he continued.
“And what’s that?”
“I can make all this go away. I’m good at making things go away. All you have to do is agree to come back to me and bring our daughter with you. I’ll wave my magic wand and everybody’s happy. You’re back where you belong; I get a chance to get to know my daughter; and the cripple and his little friends can go back to their little bakery. It can rise or fall on its own. I don’t actually care. They’ve got enough problems without me needing to add to them. Think about it, sweetheart. I’ll be waiting for your answer.”
He hung up before she could reply.
For a moment, fury burned through her so bright and hot she couldn’t hear a thing. This arrogant, entitled asshole had done everything he could to back her into a corner. And he’d succeeded. She knew exactly how much worse he could make it on her. How much worse he’d made it for other people before she’d sent him away. She was out of options. Because he’d keep doing what he was doing, attacking everyone connected to her, not giving a damn that they weren’t actually involved. He didn’t care about collateral damage.
But she had to care. She couldn’t allow this to continue. Couldn’t allow more people to be hurt on her behalf. Not when she was the one person who actually had the power to end this.
But could she actually do it? Go back to him? She’d never stay, but maybe she could get close enough, ingratiate herself back into his life far enough to get the information the authorities needed. Except Arthur wasn’t a stupid man. He wasn’t going to be careless again. And there was the issue of Maddie. If it was just Cayla herself, she might do it in the name of the greater good. But in no universe could she imagine willingly exposing her daughter to that man.
Which left her where?
Holt appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. “I just—What happened?” He hurried across the room. “Cayla? Honey?”
BB lowered to her haunches nearby, her tail giving an uncertain thump as she looked back and forth between them.
Cayla sucked in a slow breath and told him, her voice a flat monotone. Because all the fight had gone out of her.
Holt dropped into a chair and took her hands. “We’re going to figure this out. It’s going to be okay.”
“No, it’s not,” she whispered. She understood that now.
“What are you talking about?”
She extracted her hands, folding them tight in her lap as she fought back tears. Because she didn’t want to say any of this, and she knew what she wanted no longer mattered. “You took on this battle because you believed that you could protect us from whatever he did. But he’s not an insurgent. He’s not someone posing a physical threat. This isn’t a war you can win.”
Cayla watched the shutters come down over his eyes and hated herself.
“What are you saying?”
“He holds all the cards. I have no doubt he’ll ruin the lives of every single person around me. Where’s it going to stop? The FBI doesn’t have any more leads or enough information to actually get him off the street and stop him. You’ve seen how much damage he’s done in just six weeks. What if he goes after my mother next? After Jonah’s mother? After your sister? After who knows who all of my business contacts? He can and will destroy everything. I can’t live with myself if I let him do that.”
Holt’s blue eyes turned glacial, his hands curling to fists. “You’re not going back to him.”
“No. No, I’d never expose Maddie to that.” And she was shamed enough by the fact that she’d considered it, even for a moment.
“So… what?” he demanded.
“I don’t know!” Her shout echoed through the kitchen. She sucked in a breath, swiping at the tears that burned down her cheeks. “I don’t know anything except that nothing and no one is safe, and apparently no one can stop him.” Holt would realize it, too, sooner or later. And he’d hate her for all the ways she’d ruined his life.
“You can’t just give up.”
When he reached for her, Cayla rose and stepped back. She couldn’t bear him touching her right now. She had to find the strength to stand on her own again, before he cut his losses and walked away.
“I can’t live like this. Every day full of dread, waiting for the next bomb to drop.” She reached for her purse.
“Where are you going?” There was temper and something that sounded a lot like fear under the question.
“To pick up my child from school and to pray for a fucking miracle. Because I don’t see any other way out of this.”
Without another word, she strode out, leaving her bruised and battered heart behind.
* * *