I smile. “I’ll play good cop later and talk with her.” I want to believe that the kids in her current school are great, but my high school wasn’t exactly awash with problem teens, and my parents thought I was safe there…
“Oh, before I forget…” He reaches into the letter holder on the corner of the counter and pulls out an envelope. He checks inside, grunts and hands it to me.
“What’s this?” I say after swallowing a mouthful of cereal.
“A cashier’s check for twenty-five thousand dollars. That should be enough to cover whatever you owe Grayson.”
I stare at the envelope. “It’s probably too much.”
He shrugs. “He can keep the change so long as he leaves you alone.” Elliot reaches over and places his hand on mine. The contact feels so solid and warm, I lean forward, tilting my chin to look at him.
“You want to deal with him, so I’m not going to stop you. But promise me I’ll be the first to know if you need help. I don’t want you to feel that you have to take care of him on your own. I’m happy to stand by your side.”
The offer touches me deeply. I can’t remember the last time somebody vowed to be on my side and really meant it. Certainly none of my friends from Lincoln City did, even after talking about being best friends forever and whatnot. The firm tone of his voice and unwavering gaze tell me Elliot will back me up no matter what.
I can’t help myself. I turn my hand over and squeeze his, leaning closer. He is voiding all the rules I’ve established for myself in the last two years so I could survive on my own. Normally it would freak me out, but right now I’m grateful I have him on my team.
“Thank you, Elliot,” I murmur.
“My pleasure.”
I finish breakfast, our hands linked the entire time. When Elliot finally has to leave to attend to business, I sit at the counter, staring at the envelope that contains the check. Seeing Mr. Grayson is going to be an unpleasant task. But for our sake…for our new start, I need to do this.
Girding my loins, I call him…and ask for an appointment.
Why, as luck would have it, he has an hour free today around eleven. Would I like to see him then, at the café where we always meet? It would please him immensely to see how I’m doing.
His empty words make my skin crawl. Still, I speak as though I’m calm, totally self-possessed. Of course I would. I’m thrilled he’s looking forward to our meeting.
My hand starts to clench around the check, but I stop myself in time. One more meeting…
Then I will be free of Mr. Grayson.
Chapter Twenty
Annabelle
The last time I was at this café, Mr. Grayson wanted me to be a stripper to snag Elliot’s interest. He also bought me coffee, since I didn’t have any money back then.
This time I pay for my own coffee—a latte—and scan the patrons for the familiar ordinary face.
There.
Mr. Grayson is in a corner with a cup of coffee himself. He’s wearing a charcoal-gray suit with a neatly knotted blue tie. His dress shirt is white cotton, only a few shades lighter than his office-worker skin. His brown hair is professionally cropped—a cut you could get from any competent barber—and his brown eyes hold neither friendliness nor hostility. His features are even, but nothing stands out as particularly well formed. The overall effect is one of…singular ordinariness. Assessing him from across the café, I can see him as an insurance company clerk doing his job…or a car salesman doing his job…or any other everyday guy doing any other commonplace job. I always thought it was sort of sad that he was so unremarkable, but I now see it’s an advantage. He’s a chameleon. He can pretend to be anybody he wants, and no one will look twice.
I take the empty seat at the two-person table and place my purse in my lap. He looks me over with a thoroughness that’s almost rude—from my opalescent sheath dress to the platinum chain around my neck and the diamond studs in my ears. I’m glad I took care with my appearance this morning, although I didn’t do it just for him. I have another meeting later.
His lips quirk mockingly as he takes in my carefully made-up face. The reaction raises my hackles. I know I look good—better than good. I’m no longer the poor girl who depended on him to put food on the table and keep her younger sister away from predators. I remind myself he has every reason to undermine me before we start. How else is he going to get me to do what he wants?
Without preamble, I pull out the envelope from my purse and slide it toward him across the faux-wood table. “Here. The money I owe you.” I take a quick sip of coffee.
“I thought I made it clear I need more than money in return.”
“And I’m making it clear that this is all you’re getting. Sue me if you don’t like it.”
“You’re entirely too confident.”
“I’m not afraid of you, if that’s what you mean. What you asked for is illegal anyway.”