Journey to Cash Read online

  “Does that mean I can leave?” I pointed my thumb at the door.

  “Not quite. Let’s review some security protocols.” Reyes went back to his side of the table and sat.

  I didn’t move from my spot by the door. “We already shut down the safe house idea. What other security protocols could there be?”

  “I’d like you to have the officer posted outside check your place before you enter every time you get home. I’d also like the officer to do a sweep of the perimeter of your house every hour.”

  “Okay, sure.”

  “You should also nail the back gate shut,” Laurel said.

  I gave her a look. I did not need her helping. “It only opens from the inside.”

  “She’s right. Any deterrent is a good thing,” Reyes said. “And keep your phone on and charged at all times. Tell Robin or your business partner your schedule and check in with them regularly.”

  “Can I just tell my roommate?” I asked.

  He gave me an odd look. “As long as they can easily contact me.”

  “It’s Lane. She’s still living with my sister,” Laurel said.

  His eyes went wide. “Right. Okay.”

  “Anything else?” I asked with as much exasperation as I could muster.

  “Just be aware of your surroundings. Don’t go out alone. Be smart.”

  “Fine. Whatever.” I rolled my eyes extra good to make sure they saw. “What about Laurel? What dumb shit does she have to agree to?”

  Reyes looked at Laurel and half-smiled. “I’d like her to move in with me until this is resolved.”

  She stared at him. After a minute she nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. I’m living in a B&B, but I can stand a couple days of your crappy coffee.”

  “Neat. Now can I go?” I asked.

  “Yes.” Reyes stood. He was still being weird and reluctant about the whole thing, which I didn’t understand. He’d done his part. If I got killed, it wasn’t on him.

  I left the conference room.

  “Wait, Cash.” Laurel hustled to follow. As we waited for the elevator, she watched me. The doors opened and we got on. There was no one else. When the doors closed, she turned. “I was hoping we could talk.”

  “I’m good, thanks,” I said.

  “I did a shitty thing and I’d really like to explain.”

  “You already explained. You needed to find who you are when you’re not a cop. You didn’t want me around for that journey. You left. That’s it.”

  “And I was wrong,” she said.

  The doors opened. “Yep.” I walked out and turned toward the parking lot. Laurel followed.

  Once we were out of the police station, away from cop ears, she started talking again. “I know you’re upset. And you have every right to be.”

  “I’m not upset.”

  She slowed, then caught up again. “You’re not?”

  “Nope.”

  “Great. Then let’s be together again.” She called my bluff.

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you left.”

  “Cash, stop, please.”

  “I can’t. I’m busy.” We got to my car and I hit the fob to unlock it.

  “I came back for you.”

  “No. You came back because Henry Brewer tried to fucking kill you.”

  “No.” She stepped in front of me so I couldn’t get in the car. “I mean, yes. But I took a job up here for you.”

  “Without ever talking to me or consulting me about it. Kind of like your decision to leave in the first place. I’m glad to see you learned.” I reached around her and opened the door.

  “Cash.”

  I went around her and climbed in the car. She took a step back as I pulled out of the space. She looked sad and lost, but that wasn’t my problem anymore.

  Chapter Six

  I set an iced coffee the size of my head on the table in front of Kyra and collapsed into the chair across from her. The wrought iron chair listed to the side before settling in the soft ground.

  “Hey, friend. How did it go? Swimmingly?” She plucked the straw wrapper from the top of her drink and crumpled the paper.

  “Yep. Swimmingly. It went fucking swimmingly.”

  “This might be me reading too much into it, but I’m kind of thinking it didn’t go swimmingly?”

  “Gosh. You’re so astute. I can’t get anything past you.” The chair started to sink again. We really needed to do some proper yard work. Then again, all our time and money had gone into the gallery itself. I half stood and adjusted the chair.

  She grinned and stared at me. Took a long drink of coffee. “Well?”

  “Well what?”

  “Are you going to tell me about it?”

  “It was just weird. Laurel insisted on following me out of the station. She went on and on about how she did a terrible thing leaving me and it was a mistake and she came back for me. It was bullshit.”

  “How is that bullshit?”

  “She was forced to come back when Henry tried to off her. It had nothing to do with me,” I said.

  “Maybe there’s more to it?” Kyra’s tone was far too gentle and kind. I wasn’t ready for gentle and kind.

  “There’s not.”

  “Did she explain at all?”

  “No. I left.”

  “You left?” she asked.

  “Yeah. She followed me to my car and kept going on about her feelings and shit. And my feelings and shit. I don’t need her to tell me I’m angry. I’ll decide when I’m angry.”

  “Wow. Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I meant that sarcastically,” she said.

  “Oh.”

  “You obviously don’t have it figured out. You’re all in a tizzy.”

  “I’m not in a—”

  “A tizzy, dammit. I know this because I asked an innocuous question about how your meeting with the police detective went and you answered with a rundown of Laurel behavior.”

  “Oh.”

  “So what would you rather talk about? The uncomfortable meeting with the police about your former business partner going rogue? Or the woman you’re still hung up on?” She bit her straw and smiled sweetly at me.

  Well, when she put it that way. “The police.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Totally.”

  “Okay, tell me how your meeting with Reyes went.”

  “There’s not much to tell. Nothing surprising, at least. Henry Brewer apparently is real fixated on me and Laurel.”

  “Not feeling great about that,” Kyra said.

  “Nor am I. But he doesn’t have anyone else in his sights, so that’s good.”

  “Feeling better about me. Worse about you.”

  I shrugged. “I know I should be freaked out, but I’m weirdly not. If he wants to kill me, he’s got plenty of opportunity. Not much I can do about it.”

  She scrunched up her face. It looked kind of involuntary. “That’s the worst take I’ve heard in a long time.”

  “It’s the truth. I’m not going to be a dumbass. I’m aware of my surroundings. I’m going to listen to all the stupid advice Reyes gave me.”

  “Reyes should keep you locked up until they find this guy.”

  I grinned, then forced myself to stop. Kyra probably wouldn’t find it nearly as funny as I did. “He tried.”

  “He tried to lock you up?” She was confused.

  “No. But he tried to put me and Laurel in a safe house. We declined.”

  “Cash. Why? What the fuck?”

  “We opened a business three days ago.” I gestured at the building. “And I have a life. And I don’t particularly want to be locked up with my ex-girlfriend until they find a guy who has been hiding for a year and likely can continue hiding for years to come.”

  “You tried to gloss over that whole don’t want to be locked up with my ex-girlfriend thing, but I heard it and I’m not ignoring it.”

  “Whatever.”

  “If I think you’re sacrificing your safety because you don’t want to have a couple of uncomfortable days with Laurel, I’m going to lock your ass up myself.”

  “It’s not like that. I mean, it’s definitely one of the reasons, but not the only one. Or even the biggest.”

  “Uh-huh.” She seemed skeptical.

  “It’s not. And we both promised Reyes that we would go willingly if there was any escalation,” I said.

  “Escalation? Last time, he tried to kill Laurel. And from what you told me and what Robin told me after you didn’t tell me shit, I’m pretty sure he was trying real hard. At this point, wouldn’t escalation just be succeeding?”

  “Calm down.”

  “Did you seriously just tell me to calm down?”

  I squinted at her and grimaced. “Maybe.”

  “Okay, when you’re done being a douche, I’m open to hearing the plethora of ways you are keeping yourself safe.” She crossed her arms and leaned back.

  “Fine. Look at your phone. I shared my location with you. I also shared it with Nate, Lane, Robin, and Van.” Kyra pulled out her phone and tapped the screen. When I presumably showed up next to her, she nodded. “Lane is aware of my whereabouts at all times. I texted her when I left the police station to go to Old Soul for coffee, then when I came here. I’ll text her when I leave and tell her where I’m headed next.”

  “What about Reyes? Does he know your location?”

  “Yes. I shared my location with both him and Duarte, the other detective I don’t outright loathe. And, yes, I texted to let them know I was doing so.”

  “And they still have a cop watching your house?” she asked.

  “At all times, ma’am.” I put my hand up in a Boy Scout salute.

  “It’s supposed to be three fingers, you poser.”

  I altered my salute. “Sorry. I was never too good at following codes of conduct.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “Maybe if I’d joined the Boy Scouts, it would have helped.” I grinned. “But, you know, heterosexism, the patriarchy.”

  “You’re not taking this seriously at all.”

  I took a deep breath. “I am. Promise.” I grabbed her hand. “Don’t worry about me. I’m doing everything I can to stay safe while not letting this entitled asshole disrupt my life.”

  She sighed and squeezed my hand. “Okay. I just like you is all.”

  “Hey, I like me too. I’m real fun.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Not really. Just let me pretend everything is normal for a bit.” I leaned back in my listing chair. “We have a meeting scheduled. What’s going on? How are we doing?”

  “We sold four more pieces over the weekend. That brings us to about a third of our current holdings.”

  “That’s like good, right?”

  “That’s really good. That’s a couple mortgage payments.”

  “We’re killing it.” I gave her an enthusiastic high five. The chair shifted again.

  “Okay. That’s it.” She stood. “We’re going inside.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because you look like you’re about to get sucked into a hell dimension or something.”

  I crossed my ankle over my knee. I was sitting at about a seventy-degree angle. My abs were getting a nice little workout. “Nuh-uh.”

  “Cash.” She put out her hand.

  I rolled my eyes and took her hand. “Fine. But only because you want to.”

  “Dipshit.” She led me inside our office. “I need you to look at a couple portfolios anyway. I scheduled studio visits for us next week. I’d like you to be somewhat familiar with the work before we go.”

  “Okay, fine. I’ll look at art.” I dragged my feet a little.

  “You have it so tough.”

  “I know.”

  In the office, Kyra cleared the edge of the desk of all two items and set a stack of portfolios in front of me. “They’re in order of studio visit so don’t mix them up.”

  “It’s gross how organized you are.”

  “We play to our strengths, friend. You’re good at looking at pretty pictures and charming white women. I’m good at managing us.”

  I opened the first portfolio. Kyra sat behind the desk and opened her laptop. I flipped two pages. They were photos of sculptures. I turned three more pages.

  “Whatcha doing?” I asked.

  “Working,” Kyra said without looking up.

  “Wanna play?”

  “No, we’re working right now, sweetheart.”

  I closed the portfolio. “I’m bored.”

  “You literally said you wanted a job where you got to look at art all day and decide in your heart whether it was good or not.”

  “I take it back. I want to read poetry in the sunshine.”

  “Well, we invested six months and a fuckload of money and effort into this so we’re going to do the gallery thing right now.” Her tone was unnecessarily patronizing.

  I huffed. I sighed. She still didn’t look up from her laptop. “Fine.”

  “If you look through all three portfolios, we can go check out the summer menu at Citrus & Salt.”

  “Fuck yes we can.” I opened the portfolio again and actually looked at the art this time. The sculptures looked supple like flesh. There was something obscene, almost pornographic about them. About halfway through the portfolio, I realized the pieces were all metal. They were welded and smoothed and painted to look like skin, organs, but they were solid. “Okay, this shit is wild.”

  “What is?” Kyra finally looked up. “Oh, Nevada Tarr’s work? Aren’t they fantastic?”

  “Yeah. Are these all sex organs?”

  “Some of them. They’re all physical markers of gender.” She came around the desk and leaned over me. She flipped a couple of pages until she found a series of oatmeal colored strange shapes. “These are all glands.”

  “Oh, cool. I like it.”

  “They’re all to scale, which is just neat. Especially when you compare the clitoris to, well, basically everything else.”

  “Oh, yeah.” I waggled my eyebrows at her.

  “You’re such a child.” She ruffled my hair.

  “Whoa. Hey.” I leaned away from her and finger combed my hair into place.

  She grabbed the back of my neck and squeezed. “Chill, dipshit.”

  “What if a hot girl walks in here right now and my hair is all unkempt? Can you imagine?”

  “We’re closed so I doubt a girl, hot or otherwise, is going to walk in. Also, uh, hello.” She waved a hand up and down her body. “Hot girl right here.”

  “Whatever. A hot girl I have an interest in sleeping with who has an interest in sleeping with me.”

  “Now you’re just narrowing the field way too far. I doubt Laurel Kallen is going to walk in here again anytime soon,” she said.

  “Huh?”

  “I’m pretty sure she’s the only hot girl you have an interest in sleeping with.”

  “Nuh-uh.”

  “Yeah, okay.” She rolled her eyes and went back behind her desk.

  “I’m not interested in sleeping with Laurel.”

  “Right. Of course not.”

  “Kyra, I’m not.” I sounded super believable.

  “I totally believe you.”

  “Whatever.” I set the Nevada Tarr portfolio down and picked up Dana Reed’s. It was an abstract oil painting exhibit. I looked at the first three pages before realizing I wasn’t actually looking at the paintings, just flipping through them. I went back to the beginning and forced myself to study it. There were swirls of orange and slashes of blue.

  I wasn’t interested in sleeping with Laurel. I wasn’t interested in anything with Laurel. She’d left when she had no real reason to. And then she came back and wanted to pick up where we left off. Like I could just forget that she broke my heart and abandoned me. Especially when we were finally free of Sac PD, free to be together without reservation.

  I was halfway through the portfolio staring at thick purple spatters. Dammit. I turned back to the beginning. This was going to be a long process.

  “How’s that portfolio treating you?” Kyra asked ten minutes later.

  “I keep getting distracted and not seeing the art.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because you’re a dick who insists on pointing out that I might not be entirely over Laurel.”

  Kyra laughed. “Oh. Sorry.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “I’m not. But you’ve done some real good work there. Can I buy you a beer and some fried pickles?”

  I took a deep breath. “Yeah, okay.”

  Chapter Seven

  It was a drive I’d taken countless times in the last decade. Everything was the same. Even the differences—the restaurants with new names, the ever changing art galleries, the requisite new stop sign—were the same. I just didn’t know what I was driving to.

  It had been almost a year since the last time Clive and I spoke about anything with real substance. He told me Henry was a good guy. Henry, who was currently being tracked by about five law enforcement departments. Henry, who had tried to kill Laurel twice now. Henry, who was currently stalking me.

  “How you holding up?” Nate asked.

  “I don’t know. It’s weird,” I said.

  “Yeah. That’s not surprising.”

  “I don’t really know where to focus. Like I’ve got an abundance of weird and I can’t decide what to dread or think about or prep for.” We went by the last vestige of civilization in Placerville. The hills began to slope naturally instead of the abrupt cuts into hillsides from gold mining and nineteenth century development.

  “Any idea what you’re going to say to Clive?”

  I tapped the steering wheel and tried to find an answer. “I guess it depends what he says. Like if—just spitballing here—he says ‘oh, Cash, I was so wrong and you were right and I went to therapy and got a degree in gender studies to better understand why what I said was wrong,’ then maybe I’ll just forgive him and move on.”

  Nate laughed. “Just spitballing?”

  I grinned. “Yeah, but if he says nothing or asks if I’ve calmed down and decided to forgive that nice Henry boy, then maybe I’ll just leave and move to Costa Rica. I mean, things aren’t ideal here and apparently Costa Rica is nice.”