Misconceptions Page 15

  He retrieved the foreclosure notice and smoothed it out. No. The only way to save anything out of this mess would be to get Vinnie off his back. And to do that, he needed solid evidence proving Fernandez was laundering money. Once he obtained proof, he would make a deal with the police. If he was lucky, maybe he could avoid going to prison.

  Everyone involved with Vinnie ends up dead or in prison. Houston’s words haunted Travis. Why hadn’t he listened to him? Pride. He was in deep with a slim chance of coming out unscathed. How could he admit that to anyone, especially someone who could put him behind bars if he discovered what he was involved in?

  Travis picked up the picture on his desk. He ran his finger over Audrey’s face. When either of the girls smiled, it never failed to melt his heart. The family photo had been taken six months after the boys were born. Cindy’s eyes held a sparkle he hadn’t seen in a long time. Why didn’t he appreciate what he had? He missed those simpler days.

  He studied the bulletin board on the far wall, where he pinned notes from clients thanking him for building their homes. Helping people build their family’s homes had been satisfying. What had been the appeal of expanding his business? Money. Now he stood on the brink of losing it all. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

  His bruised ribs and sore face screamed at him. He made his way to the restroom next to his office. He touched the red puffy area around his eye. No doubt a whopper of a shiner would make its appearance soon. He ran a washcloth under cool water and patted away the dried blood on the corner of his mouth.

  His sore ribs ached with every move, but he returned to his desk and eased himself back into the chair. An x-ray would surely show several broken ribs. The doctors would probably recommend taking it easy, but he didn’t have time to rest.

  He fired up the computer and surfed the web. What could he use to trap Vinnie in his own game? He keyed in “surveillance tools + private investigators”. A few websites popped up. He typed in “hidden surveillance equipment” and scrolled through the results: civil and criminal investigations, domestic relations, surveillance of all kinds. He clicked on the first choice and read in detail a page dedicated to video surveillance. Taped evidence would be sufficient proof to use against Vinnie. Being free from the contract would be well worth the expense of the equipment.

  It also could cost you your life.

  The disturbing thought had kept him company since he’d gone into business with Vinnie. He should have listened to his gut instinct and never returned after walking away from their first meeting. Ignoring the heaviness in his chest, he pushed up his sleeves. He had work to do if he didn’t want his family and friends to know the full extent of his failings.

  An image on the website’s list of products caught his eye. A voice-activated recording pen. That might work. He could keep the pen tucked in his shirt pocket, and every conversation with Vinnie and Angelica would be recorded. It might take some time, but eventually he could put together enough to bring the big boss down.

  His shoulders relaxed, and he smiled. This would work—it had to!

  He paid for his order and requested next-day shipping. The cursor blinked in the ‘Ship to’ box. Travis typed in his home address, then deleted it. Better to play it safe and have the pen shipped to Houston’s house. If Cindy saw the package, even the name of the company would make her start asking questions. And if she opened the package … No, it would be better to send it to Houston’s house. He’d have to get him involved at some point anyway.

  Travis looked at the clock. Mid-afternoon already! He hadn’t intended to be away from the hospital for so long.

  His glanced at his shirt, rumpled and covered with blood. He can’t go anywhere dressed like this. He grabbed one of the extra shirts he kept on hand in the closet. Tossing off his dirty shirt and undershirt, he returned to the bathroom. The dark bruises on his ribs evidenced the beating he’d taken earlier. He ran a soapy, wet rag over himself lightly, but winced as it rubbed over his ribs.

  He returned to his office but stopped short at the sight of Angelica sitting on the edge of his desk. Her arms crossed over her chest and she wore a frown, but when she caught sight of him, she jumped up. “What happened, Travis?” Her gaze locked on the bruises across his bare chest as she closed the distance between them.

  “Vinnie happened. That’s what.”

  Her eyes flashed as she lightly touched his side just beyond the bruised area. “Vinnie did this to you?”

  “One of his thugs did. I’m still trying to figure out why.” If Vinnie found out about his outside deals, either his phone was bugged or Angelica had been on his computer. Or maybe one of the people he was trying to work a deal with was also involved with Vinnie. His couldn’t be the only business in trouble.

  Her touch caused heat to travel up his neck. He sidestepped her and reached for the clean shirt he’d draped over the back of his chair.

  She followed him and set a hand on his shoulder. “It looks so painful. Is there anything I can do for you?” When her eyes met his, the look in them changed from concern to desire. “Travis, I …”

  Warning bells clanged in his head, but he ignored them. He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. The temptation to kiss her overwhelmed him. He didn’t have the strength to resist. Just one kiss. His lips met hers. She tasted like sweet wine. At first the kiss was tentative, a surrendering to forbidden fruit, but it quickly became more passionate.

  Angelica seemed to welcome his desire, but suddenly pulled away.

  He opened his eyes just as Houston’s fist connected with his left eye. Travis stumbled back a few feet.

  “I’m not going to apologize for that, Travis. You deserve it.” Houston rubbed his fist on his leg and took a step forward.

  Travis held his hands up. “It’s not what it looks like. Well, it’s what you saw, but it’s not what you think …” He fumbled for an excuse.

  Angelica touched a hand to her lips. “I’d better leave. We’ll talk later, Travis.” She slithered out of the room, leaving him to face Houston alone.

  “Look, Houston, I know you’re not going to believe me, no matter what I tell you, but nothing is going on.”

  “You call kissing a woman who isn’t your wife nothing?” Houston shook his head. “You’re a real piece of work.”

  Travis pulled on his undershirt and tucked it into his pants. “I’m not saying it was right; I’m just saying you don’t know the whole story.”

  “Well, why don’t you enlighten me.”

  “I’m not having an affair.” Travis slipped on the clean button-down shirt. “That was the first time I ever kissed her. And I wish I never had.” He hissed at the pain as he eased into the shirt.

  Houston’s eyes remained on Travis like a hawk eyeing its prey. “Where’d you get those bruises?”

  Travis finished buttoning his shirt and returned his seat behind the desk, wincing has he bent. Looked like he’d have to confess to Houston a little earlier than anticipated.

  “I fell on a job site. Took quite a tumble.” He held a finger up to his lips and mouthed a shush, then motioned toward the front door. He couldn’t risk having this discussion in his office if his suspicions about the office being bugged were true.

  Houston’s eyes narrowed, but he said, “I’ve got to get back to the hospital, but we’ll finish this conversation later.”

  Travis followed Houston outside. When they reached the driveway, Houston said, “Out with it. What are you involved in?”

  Travis couldn’t look him in the eyes, but he managed to say, “I’m in something deep. Much more dangerous than I ever imagined.”

  Houston stood silent for several minutes. “Vinnie Fernandez did this to you, didn’t he?”

  At Travis’s nod, he added, “How involved are you?” Houston asked.

  Travis touched his bruised eye. “Way over my head.”

  “That man’s nothing but a criminal. I thought I’d made that clear to you. One day we’re going to arrest him; it
’s only a matter of time.”

  “You’ll never get him.” Travis leaned against the porch railing. “He has too many connections.” He let out a sarcastic laugh. “As a matter of fact, you probably work with some of them.”

  Houston’s eyes narrowed and a scowl marked his face. “This isn’t about me. You need help, Travis, and I need to know how much.”

  Travis stared at the ground. “I have it under control.” He thought about his statement. Was it really under control? If he let Houston know his plan to record Vinnie, his brother-in-law would point out a thousand reasons why it wouldn’t work. His plan might be sketchy, but it was his only hope to free himself without putting anyone else in danger. “If you want to help me, don’t tell Cindy what you saw today. It was a huge mistake. I never should have let it happen, and it will never happen again. I don’t want to hurt Cindy.”

  “You’re putting me in a very uncomfortable position.” Houston rocked back on his heels. “She deserves to know the truth.”

  He took in a deep breath of air. “I know. But the timing has to be better.”

  They stared at each other in silence for several minutes until Houston cleared his throat. “The reason I stopped by was to let you know Audrey is awake.”

  Travis stood up straight. “Why did you wait so long to tell me? Is she okay? Is there any brain damage?” He peppered Houston with questions as he pulled out his keys.

  “The doctor will know more after he gets the results from the tests they just ran. Cindy’s phone was out of juice, so I told her I’d come get you.” Houston’s gaze held Travis’s. “You’re going to have to tell her—and soon.”

  “I know. There’s a lot I need to tell Cindy … and you. I just need a little more time.”

  “Why don’t you let me help you?”

  “Vinnie has made it clear. If I go to the police, there will be consequences—much worse than I suffered today. I don’t want to find out what they are.”

  “I can’t help if you don’t trust me.”

  “I trust you, Houston.” He held his head high. “But I don’t have any idea what Vinnie might do to you if he finds out you’re involved.”

  Houston’s eyes flashed. “I’ve been after Vinnie for a long time. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you from him.”

  The ring of Travis’s phone interrupted their conversation. He pressed the button and accepted the call.

  “I told you not to talk to the police, Travis.” Vinnie’s icy voice came through the receiver loud and clear. Travis’s heart slammed in his chest. How could Vinnie possibly know? He took a long, slow breath. What should he do now?

  Houston whispered, “Who is it?”

  Travis mouthed, “It’s him.” He spoke into the receiver. “I haven’t gone to the police. You’ve got bad information.”

  “My sources are usually dead on. Watch your step.”

  “I’m telling you the truth, Vinnie. I learned my lesson this afternoon.” He hoped his tone sounded sincere.

  “That’s good, Travis. I’d hate for anything to happen to you … or your beautiful wife.”

  A click followed the threat as Vinnie ended the conversation.

  The fire of hatred circulated throughout his entire body. Desperation overwhelmed him. “We’ve got to get to the hospital.” He returned his phone to a pocket with a shaking hand. “Vinnie just threatened Cindy.”

  Houston shot up and strode to his truck. “Let’s go.”

  Travis followed, no longer concerned about his aching ribs or bruised face. It was one thing for Vinnie to mess with his business and personal finances, but if he thought Travis would let him threaten his family, he was dead wrong.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  As usual, her mother’s house was in perfect order. “I have something important to tell you.” Dominique carefully set the fine china cup on the polished cherry coffee table.

  Her mother sat in the mauve wingback chair opposite the sofa. “I hope you’re not pregnant. That would be so embarrassing.”

  What should I do, Lord? In the past she would have flung some dirt right back and left in a huff. This time she’d take the high road. “No, I’m not pregnant. In fact, I think you’ll be quite happy with my news.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  Okay. You can get through this. Ignore the droll tone and sour expression. Buoyed by her mental pep talk, she forged ahead. “I’ve become a Christian, Mom. After all those years of running, I’ve given my life to Christ.”

  She rolled her eyes and tipped her head to the right. “Are you sure this isn’t another one of your passing fancies? The Lord will not be trifled with.” She waggled a finger.

  Dominique should have known better. She shouldn’t have bothered coming. “You’ve been praying for me for years. Now it’s finally happened, and you just attribute it to a passing fancy?” She bit her tongue before any of the rest of her thoughts could slip out.

  A small smile appeared on her mother’s face. “Now that’s the daughter I’m more accustomed to.”

  “I don’t get it.” Dominique reached for her teacup.

  “What’s there to get?”

  “You claim to be Christian, yet you’re so different from the others.” She replaced the teacup on the table.

  “What do you mean, I claim to be a Christian? I haven’t missed a Sunday service in over twenty years.” She placed her hand over her heart. “I’ve always given my ten percent, and I’ve taught more Sunday-school lessons than I can count.” She pointed a perfectly manicured nail at Dominique. “How can you sit there in your rumpled clothing and accuse me of not being a Christian? I see you haven’t learned the part about honoring your mother yet.”

  “It’s all about rules to you, isn’t it, Mom?”

  “Without rules, society would run amok.”

  “What about grace?” Dominique brushed her hand over her mother’s. “Is there room for grace in your brand of Christianity?”

  Her mother rose stiffly, retrieved the teapot from the silver tray on the formal table, and stepped to the formal table. She lifted the teapot from the silver tray. “More tea?”

  “No thanks. Are you going to answer my question?”

  “I don’t think your question deserves an answer.” She returned to her seat. “If your conversion was authentic, I think you’d be showing me more respect.”

  The truth hit Dominique square in the face. Her mom didn’t have an answer about grace because the concept was completely foreign to her. She wasn’t a Christian.

  All these years she’d been playing church but never connected the dots. “Mom, I am a Christian. Just because I ask you a question about grace doesn’t mean I’m being disrespectful.”

  Her mother picked at a piece of lint on the wingback chair she’d taken a seat in. “I really should have this reupholstered.”

  “Mom?”

  Her mother’s expression held disdain, but beyond the coldness, Dominique saw something she had never seen before in her mother’s eyes: fear.

  Her mother stared at the floor. “I think you should leave.”

  Unbelievable. Her own mother was kicking her out. In their many arguments, Dominique had always been the one to storm out of the room or hang up the phone. “I don’t think I understand what happened here, Mom. I stop in to visit you, tell you about the best decision I’ve ever made in my life, and you ask me to leave? I thought you’d be ecstatic that I’m finally in the fold.”

  “You see? There. You have no respect for me. You haven’t learned a thing, and I doubt highly your conversion is authentic. But at least it’s a start … albeit a slow one.”

  There would be no point in arguing. Once her mother made up her mind, little could change it. If what she suspected was true, her mother would need her prayers more than her criticism.

  Dominique checked her watch. “I’ll see you soon. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I honestly thought you’d be happy. I don’t leave until Monday, so I promise we’ll talk before I leave
.”

  “More traveling? No man would ever want to settle down with a woman who’s more committed to her job than she is to him.”

  There it was again. If her mother couldn’t get to her spiritually, she would criticize her personal life. She didn’t dare tell her about Joe. That would have to wait. Instead, she left a little nugget of information to chew on. “Well, that’s not the case anymore. I was fired today. Now any man I choose to date will have my fully devoted attention.”

  She stood and gently kissed her mother on the cheek. “I’ll let myself out.” She couldn’t resist a glance back at her mother’s slack-jaw expression. Maybe she hadn’t handled the situation exactly as the Lord would have had her do, but she was new to this Christianity thing.

  Not only had Stew refused to air her story on the declining birthrate, he’d fired her. She mulled over her options. Social media was an excellent vehicle for getting a hot story out. Dominique pulled out her cell phone and dialed the station’s cameraman Calvin Baldwin. She’d heard him talking about his faith on more than one occasion. Maybe he would help her. The call went directly to his voicemail. “Calvin, it’s Dominique. You’ve probably heard I’ve been let go. I have a story I’d like some help with. Meet me at the Starbucks on the north end at four o’clock. I’ll fill you in on the details.” Hopefully, he would show up.

  The cab dropped her off in the Starbucks parking lot with ten minutes to spare. After ordering a double latte, she chose a booth in the back. She opened the pregnancy crisis file and scanned the material. Lord, please help me. I know this is a story you want broadcasted, but I can’t do it on my own.

  What a comfort. She didn’t have to rely on her own strength anymore. Even though her world was falling apart before her eyes, the peace she had could only be attributed to the Lord. She checked her watch. Calvin was fifteen minutes late. Would he show? Stew had probably done a good job of warning others away from her.

  After another fifteen minutes, Calvin entered and placed an order at the counter. He joined her and folded his tall lanky form into the seat across from her. He ran his free hand over his balding head. “Sorry I’m late. I got held up at the station.”