The Wedding Rescue, Book Four(4)
“You came here in a cab. Where’s the car?”
“At the Delecta, in the parking garage. The parking ticket is in the driver’s side visor. I have a spare key and the title inside. I’ll give them to you, and you can go get the car, take it, and sell it first thing in the morning for cash.”
“I won’t get twenty grand for it if I sell it to a used car dealer,” he said, sulking like a child. He might be acting immature, but he wasn’t entirely stupid. No way would he get twenty grand for it from a dealer. And he didn’t have the time to sell it to a private owner.
“No. But that’s the best I have for you. You know I don’t have any expensive jewelry or a big TV. That car is the only thing I own that you can turn into cash by tomorrow.”
Steven studied the ground between his feet, thinking. My heart thudded in my chest. If I gave him my car, I’d be screwed. Thanks to his raid on my savings account, I didn’t have enough for a down payment on a new one. But that was the least of my problems at the moment. I needed to make Steven happy enough to leave me alone. And to forget about using that video. Finally, he looked up.
“Let’s go inside and get the key and the title.”
Relief and dismay swamped me. Relief that he’d take the car. Dismay at being alone in the house with him. I didn’t trust him. He’d hit me already. And his admission about jerking off to the video creeped me out. Who knew what he’d do when we were alone?
“I’m not going in the house with you,” I said. I wasn’t budging on that. Out here I had Mrs. Carmody next door. She was sleeping, but if I screamed, she’d be on the phone with the cops in a second. Once I was inside the house, all bets were off. “You go in. The title is in my file cabinet, top drawer. In the file labeled Honda Accord EX-L. The spare key is in the same file. You can take them and go.”
Steven eyed me warily. “You’re not going to ask me for the video?”
I rolled my eyes. “Is the only copy on that phone?” I asked. Steven scoffed at me.
“Of course not.”
“Then what’s the point of getting the phone from you? You could have a hundred copies of the video stashed all over the place. But you know what would happen if you used them, right? The only thing keeping me from calling Dylan is that I don’t want that video to get out. If you release it, he’ll come straight for you. You do know that, don’t you?”
Steven glared at me, his jaw clenched tight. He knew I was right. A single woman with few resources was a good target for his brand of petty blackmail. But if he drew Dylan’s attention, he was fucked. Once that video was released, Dylan would have no reason to hold back. And I had nothing left for Steven to take.
“I want your 401k,” Steven said. I shook my head. He didn’t know when to give up.
“Steven, you don’t have time for that. It’ll leave a huge paper trail. And Dylan will want to know why I ran out on him. He’s going to come find me.”
As I said that, I realized it was the truth. Dylan would be pissed. He might hate me and want nothing more to do with me. But he’d at least track me down to get an explanation. My heart sank. If I told him the truth, he’d go after Steven. And as twitchy as Steven was, he might release the video the second he caught sight of Dylan. He could have already uploaded it to streaming sites, just one click shy of going wide. I needed to convince Steven to get out of Vegas.
“You need to take my car, trade it for cash and get lost. Find the rest of the money you need somewhere else. Like New York. Or Miami.”
“I told you to stay away from Kane,” he said. “You go near him, I’ll release the video.”
“I’m not going back to him, okay? But he knows where I live. He may come here. I can’t control Dylan Kane. This is your only chance. Take my car, get as much cash for it as you can, and run like hell. Don’t bother coming back for more. This is it. I don’t have anything else to give you. It’ll take me years to make up for what you’ve already taken.”
“Fine. But I’m not leaving you alone out here. Open the door and get in the house.”
3
Leigha
I wasn’t expecting Steven to move so quickly. Before I could dodge him, he was behind me, one hand over my mouth, the other trapping my wrists. Steven wasn’t a big guy, or a powerful one. He didn’t need to be; he was stronger than me. He shuffled me up the two steps to the deck and toward the sliding door of my kitchen.
“Open it,” he ordered.
I yanked on my right wrist. I couldn’t unlock the door without a hand free. At that moment, I wished I’d invested in some self-defense classes. Steven had me immobilized, and I had no idea how to get away. If I’d been wearing my heels, I would have had some kind of weapon, but in bare feet all I could do was kick his shin. He let go of one wrist and I fished the key out of my back pocket. The door slid open, letting out a puff of cool air.