Queen of Lies (Empire of Lies 2)

“No, wait.” I felt my voice cracking. “You don’t need to do that. I can give it all back to you right here.”

“You’re walking around this city with two hundred and fifty thousand dollars of my money in cash?” He moved the gun away from me. “Please tell me that you’re not that fucking dumb.”

“No.” I swallowed. “It’s in different bank accounts…I stole from each client’s personal bank account. I know all their account numbers by heart and I can just transfer it back.”

He blinked, looked over at his guy.

His guy pulled out a phone and showed him a screen, then he looked at me.

“Anthony Sorenson,” he said. “Thirteen thousand eight hundred thirty-five dollars. Tell me his bank information.”

“Bank of Hudson,” I said. “Routing number 4500017. Account number 2387907. The business account, not the checking.”

His guy tapped the screen a few times, and then he nodded. “It’s legit, sir.”

“Make Miss Thatchwood a drink, Kep,” he said, taking a seat. “She’s going to give us the account numbers for all our clients, and then she’s going to tell us where exactly these transfers will be coming from. We’re going to be here for at least half an hour.”

I downed the alcohol within seconds of him giving it to me, and rattled off the accounts as he listed the names of all the men I’d stolen from over the past couple of years. Every now and then, he’d say, “You’re a goddamn waste of talent…” but there was no other conversation between us.

When he reached the last name—a Mr. Tanner Yardley, he sat up and lit a cigarette.

“Now, give me your account number, so I can take it directly from there.”

“I know all the accounts,” I said. “I thought you would trust me to do it on my own.”

“Then you thought fucking wrong. Account number. Bank. Now.”

“There’s more than the money I owe you in this account, though…” I looked at him. “You’re only taking the money I stole, right? There’s sixty or so there that’s not yours.”

“I’m taking all of it,” he said. “It’s called interest, and if you don’t start spouting out the fucking numbers within the next few seconds, you’re going to lose a lot more than that.”

“Cadence River Bank.” I felt tears pricking my eyes, but I didn’t dare let them fall. “Account number 4123483.”

His guy nodded once he confirmed it was the right account, and then he stood to his feet.

“There’s an underground ecosystem in this city, Meredith.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “One that I don’t think you’ll ever know anything about, and I don’t think you should ever fuck with it again.”

I was too stunned to say a word. I swore on my life that I was done coming here forever. It was time to let this lifestyle go.

“Glad we could have this little chat tonight.” He walked to the door. “Now, I suggest you put in a notice of absence and take a vacation from this life. Go find somebody to fuck over who isn’t me. In a month, after I make sure my money is returned and accounted for, you can come back and dance off as many Daddy issues as you like. We clear?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” He walked over to me, placed his gun under my chin one more time for good measure. “I’m glad I never had to tell the A brothers about you.” He smiled. “You’d be dead by now, and that would be a damn shame. Between you and me, I think you’re too pretty for a casket. Then again, so are roses, and we throw those at caskets all the time, huh?”

He looked me over again before leaving the room with his guy, and all the tears I’d been holding inside, started making their way down my face.

Rushing back to the dressing room, I grabbed my bag and rushed out of the dressing room. I took the stairwell, running down several flights, until I made it to the lobby, out of the club and down the block. I was running without a destination, and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to stop for a while…

* * *

An hour later, my heart was still racing out of fear, and I couldn’t help but feel like someone was watching me.

Instead of hailing a cab, I made my way to the closest subway station and took a seat near the back. As the train made its way across the city, I tried not to think about what had happened at Club Swan. How everything I’d built over the past couple years was a complete and utter lie, and I’d lost it in a single night.

“Now stopping at Broadway and 7th.” The subway’s system called out. “Broadway and 7th.”

I stood as the train slowed, and stepped off. I made my way up the steps and walked two blocks to Gershwin Theater.