“They shoulda killed him.”
If I heard it, I knew Ronan did as well, and one look at his devastated face was enough for me.
“Move away and leave him alone.” With one shove, I pushed Ronan inside the building and stood in front of the door. Luis, who was on duty, met us.
“You want me to call the cops, Mr. Michaels?”
“No. I’m fine.”
But I knew better. Pale and sweaty, Ronan brushed the hair from his face with a shaky hand.
“That’s bullshit,” I said roughly. “Let’s go upstairs.” I turned to Luis. “Thanks, and if anyone does try to come inside to get to Mr. Michaels, call the police. They’re trespassing.”
Ronan allowed me to lead him to the elevators and into the apartment. Once the door was locked, he seemed to regroup.
“Thanks. I-I know the hearing’s tomorrow, but I tried to put it out of my mind.” He tossed his phone on the couch, his keys on the kitchen island, and squinted at me. “Damn, it’s bright in here.” He drew the blinds down, leaving the slats open to cut the sun’s rays to a minimum.
“With three tequila sodas?” I gave him a sympathetic smile. “And I’m not judging. I don’t blame you.” I dropped my suit jacket over the arm of the club chair.
“You don’t have to. I blame myself enough. I’m going to my room for a while.”
He left me alone, and a moment later I heard the shower running. Deciding that sounded like a great idea, I followed suit, the hot steam invigorating after the big meal. Realizing I’d left my phone and laptop in the living room, I dressed in sweats and a T-shirt, opened my bedroom door to go retrieve my things, but then I heard Ronan on the phone.
“You lied to me?”
Normally I would never listen in, but the sadness in his voice hit me like a shot to the heart, and I stood in the doorway, wondering what it was about Ronan Michaels that made it impossible for me to walk away.
Chapter Eleven
Ronan
This wasn’t about the amount of money I had to pay out. The victims deserved it, and I had more than enough and lived easily on the interest. No, this was about the contempt and disgust in people’s eyes when they looked at me. That reporter thought I was scum, and I’d heard what the people on the street were saying. There was a comment that I should be executed for what I’d done.
With all the protesters, nasty letters, and the exploding ink bomb, I’d taken to keeping a bottle of tequila in the bottom drawer of my night table, and once finished with my shower, I took a couple of shots to stop my hands from shaking. I knew it was wrong, but I didn’t do it very often. Naked, I lay on my bed, and my thoughts turned to the conversation with Gabriel. I hated that Cassie and I weren’t speaking, and thought I’d give it one last chance to make it right between us. I groped around for my phone, then remembered I’d left it in the living room.
A bit buzzed, I stumbled into the living room and spied it on the couch. “There you are.” I snorted to myself, knowing I’d become one of those drunks who talked to themselves and inanimate objects. I squinted at the screen and hit the button preprogrammed for Cassie’s number. It rang and rang and went to voice mail. I cut it off and called her again.
It took four tries, but it was Marty who picked up. “Cassie is with the kids. I thought you weren’t going to call anymore. We have nothing to say to each other.”
I wasn’t exactly thrilled to speak to Marty, but hopefully he’d listen. “Don’t hang up. Like it or not, we’re family. I want to meet my nieces and nephew when I’m allowed to travel. Come on, Marty, we need to figure this out.”
“Figure what out? I asked you for a loan to help us and you said no, plus some pretty horrible things.”
I leaned against the wall. “You don’t see my point at all? I spent six years in jail for something I didn’t do. All to save you and your family from going to jail. I gave up a huge part of my life for you, and you don’t seem to give a shit.”
“That’s not true. You know we appreciate it. But you agreed to do it. Would you want Cassie to go to jail? The stress of your trial made her so sick, every day we were afraid she’d miscarry again. You agreed to it all to help her. Why are you reneging now on the promise you made?”
“How can you say I’m reneging on my promises? I’m afelon. I went to prison for six years, and do I have to remind you how you never came to see me? You keep talking about how I’m not being fair. I kept my part of the deal. I let myself be your fall guy because I trusted that you and my sister would do the right thing while I was away. You were supposed to pay everything to the victims. I left you the money specifically for that purpose—which, by the way, I just finished paying because you helped yourself to some of it. Do you just not give a damn?”
“I can’t believe you’re saying this to me.”
Was I always this clueless to his conniving ways? It gave me pause to wonder if he really loved Cassie or if it was the money he hoped she had.
“I can’t believeyouhave the nerve to say it. What happened tomymoney, Marty? The faucet is going to run dry one day. I’m not going to keep paying for something I didn’t do.”
“If you thought we could pay you back everything, you’re a fool.”
His words rocked me to the core. “You lied to me?”
