The Wedding Rescue, Book Four(3)
2
Leigha
I stared at him in shock. What an idiot. He was right; I did have a lot in my 401k. I was an accountant. I was responsible with money. And Haywood & Cross had a very generous employer matching policy. But I couldn’t just withdraw the money and hand it over to Steven.
“That’s not how it works,” I whispered. “It’s not a bank account. I can’t go to an ATM or write you a check. I have to fill out paperwork, send it in through my human resources manager. It takes at least a week, probably more. And then there’s an early withdrawal penalty. At least 10%.”
Steven’s eyes narrowed. He kicked one foot at the corner of my deck like a frustrated child.
“You’re lying,” he said.
“Why would I lie about this? I want that video. I want you to go away.”
“You have to give me something. I’m not giving you the video for nothing. Anyway, you make good money and you never spend any of it. I’m not leaving with nothing.”
My mind raced furiously. I didn’t have anything to give him. No jewelry worth pawning. Same for electronics. He’d already taken my easily accessible savings. Then a thought occurred to me.
“Why the hurry? You know I called the police after you emptied my savings. Did you know I hired a lawyer to sue you?” He shrugged and looked away. “So why risk coming after me? And you obviously know who Dylan is. If I’d told him, he would have crushed you.”
“Not before I uploaded that video,” Steven sneered at me.
“True, but can you imagine what Dylan would have done to you? So why come after me again? Why not find some other sucker?”
In my panic, the weirdness of Steven’s actions hadn’t penetrated. I’d only thought of protecting Dylan by coming here to meet him, not why Steven would be doing all this in the first place. Steven shuffled his feet in the gravel and murmured something I didn’t catch.
“What?”
“I said, I owe some people money.”
“How much money?” I asked. I didn’t have cash, but I needed to know how deep in the hole he was. And how desperate he would get.
“Forty grand,” he whispered. “These aren’t people you owe money to. If I don’t get them something by tomorrow, they’re going hurt me.”
I bit back a scathing comment about how I hoped they broke both his legs. I did, but telling him that wouldn’t get rid of him.
“Forty grand? What did you do? Borrow it?”
“No,” he whined. “I took your ten grand to a game and lost it. They gave me a marker for the forty. I was on a hot streak. I was going to win it back, and then some.”
“Idiot,” I said under my breath. I should have kept my mouth shut. Steven’s fist slammed into my face, catching me on my jaw, and sending me to my ass in the gravel. I’d never been hit like that in my life. His hands weren’t that big, but his fist felt like a sledgehammer, the pain ballooning out from my jaw, clouding my head. Saying it hurt didn’t really cover it. How did boxers do it? One punch and I was down, stunned and a little confused.
Lifting my hand to my face, I looked at him smirking down at me. How long had he been thinking about hitting me? The knowing smile on his face spoke of a well loved thought made real. My stomach tightened. Coming here had been a mistake. I should have woken Dylan. I should not have tried to deal with this on my own.
“Don’t call me an idiot,” he said, not looking the least bit sorry about hitting me. “My luck turned. It wasn’t my fault.”
“I don’t have forty grand, Steven. I don’t even have twenty.”
“You better come up with something, you stupid bitch. I saw you go shopping with that guy. Don’t tell me he didn’t buy you stuff I can pawn.”
“He did,” I said in a low voice, trying to soothe him despite my bad news. “But it’s all at his place. You could maybe get a few hundred for these shoes.” I pulled at the silver straps, getting the sandals off as fast as I could. I knew they were designer, but I didn’t know which one. Used, they could be worth a hundred or a thousand. Steven wouldn’t know the difference. Getting to my feet, I handed him the sandals.
“Shoes? That’s the best you can do?”
My mind raced, searching for something, anything I could come up with to make him leave.
“My car,” I said. “It’s only three years old. Paid off. I have the title inside. I’ll sign it over to you. It has to be worth at least twenty grand.”
I loved that car. A beige sedan, it wasn’t exciting on the outside, but I’d splurged and gotten upgrades on the interior. Leather, sunroof, nav system, all the bells and whistles. I’d planned to drive it for at least another six or seven years. Along with the house, it was the first adult possession I’d purchased after I got my job. But if giving it to Steven would get him to leave, I’d do it. Steven’s expression brightened at my offer. His head lifted, and he looked around.