The Hustle (Irreparable #4) (15 page)

“C
an you think of any reason Mr. Dellisen would break into your place?” the female officer asks Peyton.

“No.”

“Is anything missing?”

“Not that I know of, but I didn’t spend a lot of time checking and I haven’t been home since it happened.”

“Have you ever had an altercation with him?”

Peyton locks her eyes on me as her bottom lip begins to quiver. “About a month ago.” She focuses on a spot on the floor as she continues. “He walked me out to my car after work. I didn’t think much of it because we were leaving at the same time, but he tried to kiss me. I pushed him back, but he tried again, only forcefully. I slapped him. He called me a bitch and came after me again. I kicked him in the balls and got away.”

My teeth grind together as I inhale through my nose. She lied. I don’t know if my anger stems from her not being honest with me, or this creep putting his hands on her or how easily this fucking pervert was able to break into her place. It’s probably all of the above.

“Did he threaten you in any way?” The male officer, who’s been mostly quiet, asks.

“No, and he avoided me after that.”

“Did you report it to anyone?”

Her head shakes faintly. “No. I didn’t think he was dangerous. I honestly thought he was as humiliated as I was.”

“Okay, well with the information we have from Mr. Hunter’s investigator, and your statement, we have enough to make an arrest.”

“When?” I ask.

“Soon, but just so you’re aware, he’ll easily make bail. I’ll speak with the DA about securing a restraining order, but you should keep your guard up.”

“We will, thank you.”

As I guide Peyton down the hall, she stops and spins around. “Please, don’t be mad.”

I notice a few people watching. Without answering, I continue walking until I reach the fresh air outside the police station. Peyton’s right behind me, but I’m not ready to discuss how I feel. I’m not mad, I’m furious. Mikes waits in an SUV at the curb to pick us up and I open the backdoor for Peyton. Once she climbs inside, I slide in next to her, attempting to calm my anger as she watches me.

After several silent blocks, I turn my head her way. “You told me he was harmless.”

“I was in shock,” she insists. “And too embarrassed to tell you.”

I sigh as understanding sinks in, but I can’t force the anger to soften. The monster I’ve smothered since meeting Peyton stirs inside me. “Don’t ever lie to me again.”

“I didn’t . . . I wasn’t . . .”

“You lied. I asked if he ever bothered you and you said no.”

“I did not. I said he asked me out and that he was harmless.”

“You lied.”

“I didn’t lie, I deflected.”

“You lied,” I turn in the seat, anger surging through me as I glare heatedly at her. “You hustled me.”

“Hustled you?” She laughs hard but there’s irritation in her stare. Her teeth dig into her bottom lip as she shakes her head. “What is this? A Paul Newman movie? What, I’m Tom Cruise and I’m here to hustle you out of a few thousand dollars and be on my way? Seriously? Do you hear how ridiculous that sounds?”

I’m not amused by her joke. Anger burns my skin. She doesn’t understand and before I can stop myself, I’m lashing out. “Shut up! Shut your damn mouth. This isn’t a fucking joke!”

“Why are you so pissed?”

I ball my fists, raising them above my head as I fight off frustration. How can she not see it? “Because you fucking lied to me!”

“I can’t do this.” Her arms fold over her chest as she turns her head. “Take me home.”

“Fine!”

I tap on the glass between the seats and tell Mike to take us to Peyton’s when he rolls the window down.

The time it takes to reach Peyton’s place is enough to make me regret yelling at her. My history with women caused me to act unreasonably and treat Peyton as though she’s Maria or Tori. I took my pent-up anger out on her and I can only hope I didn’t lose her over it. I deserve to, but life was intolerable before Peyton appeared at my door to rescue me. I refuse to revert back to the wretched, soulless prick who felt nothing. I need Peyton to feel, to grow, to challenge me . . . No . . . I want her in my life and in my bed and I want her enough to let go of my anger.

She opens the door and gets out before I can apologize. The door slamming is a clear indicator she may not be interested in speaking to me. I wait in the car, trying not laugh, as she marches up the driveway. In about five seconds, she’s going to be even more irate. Sure enough, her fists clench at her side as she realizes she doesn’t have a new key to the front door.

“JT just pulled in behind us,” Mike says, turning his head to look at me. “Do you want me to drive you home?”

“No. I’ll wait here for a bit.”

“All right. I’m going to talk to JT. Do you want me to take her the key?”

“Nope.” I grin and he shakes his head.

“Be careful with that one,” he says, opening the door. “She may just rip your balls off.”

I know him well enough that the teasing is okay and I give it back. “Good thing I have your giant ass to protect me.”

With a hearty laugh, he gets out of the car. I relax in the seat, staring with amusement at Peyton and wonder how long her pride will keep her from turning around.

Apparently her pride is downright relentless because ten minutes later, she’s still in front of her door with her back to me. What she doesn’t realize is when it comes to stubborn, she’s met her match. I’m the king of refusing to back down and admit I might have said or done something idiotic. Our argument is no longer about me apologizing. It’s about winning the game. If she wants in her place, she can get her ass over here and ask for the key.

A moment later, she squats down in the grass on the left side of her door. She pushes her fingers into the ground before standing up and walking around the side of the house until she’s out of sight.

Mark and JT are already on her trail before I get out of the car. I might be annoyed, but I’m damn sure not going to allow my stubbornness to lead to her being hurt if this Dellisen character is lurking in her backyard.

As I round the side of the house, Mike and JT are inspecting one of the windows, leading into Peyton’s house. Although her back is to me, I can feel the hurt and frustration rolling off of her as though she’s aiming it right at me.

“What’s up?” I ask whichever one of them wants to answer.

Mike continues on, inspecting the rest of the windows and JT turns to face me. “Someone tried to break in.”

“And it didn’t set the alarm off?”

“It isn’t set yet.”

“What?” I ask, giving him about two seconds to explain himself before I fire both him and Mike. I don’t give a fuck how long they’ve been working for Sid or Gibson, they failed.

“We wanted Peyton to choose the code. That way only she and the alarm company were aware of it. It’s safer.”

Looks like he’ll keep his job. “No, that’s smart.”

“Whoever it was, they weren’t able to get in.”

I know exactly who it was and regardless of whether or not Dellisen succeeded, knowing he tried makes me blistering mad. If I didn’t know he’d be in handcuffs soon, I’d drive to his house and make him feel what it’s is to be violated.

“It was Dellisen,” Mike says, approaching us with a paper in his hand.

As he gets closer, I realize it’s a photograph and I take it from Mike. Robert and Peyton holding hands affectionately, like starry-eyed lovers, garners my attention. I can’t pull my eyes away from the happy couple.

“What? What is it?” Peyton asks, nervously.

What the fuck kind of game is this? Peyton’s lie ran much deeper than she admitted. She knows this man intimately. I let another fucking woman hustle me. Anger simmers inside, ready to erupt as I continue staring at the picture.

The longer I look at it, I begin to notice something strangely off with the position of her body. Her head doesn’t sit correctly on her neck, neither does his. The skin on his face is not as tanned as his body. The picture is obviously photoshopped, not a real moment they spent together. I’m relieved Peyton didn’t lie and ashamed I thought she did.

We’re clearly dealing with a delusional individual, and Peyton can’t stay here until he’s arrested. By the way she looks at me with detest, it won’t be easy to convince her to come home with me.

I hope showing her the photo will make it easier. She takes it from my hand. After only a couple of seconds, she hands it back to me. “You were right. I was wrong. He’s obviously not harmless. Happy?”

“No! I’m not fucking happy.” Her eyes go wide with the rise in my voice. “Look, I don’t know how to do this . . . how to protect you when you clearly don’t need or want me to. I’m sorry I overreacted earlier. I know why you didn’t tell me everything, but I have issues with being lied to.”

“Those are your issues.” She huffs, pushing past me and striding with purpose toward my car. I sigh and follow her. At least I know she plans on going home with me. She gets in my car and slams the door shut.

I give Mike and JT instructions to follow us before I get in the car. Holy shit . . . The thick tension is stifling. As much as I don’t want to be the first to cave, I can’t drive until the air is cleared. “I’m sorry, okay? I don’t know how to be with someone who doesn’t need me.”

Her folded arms and tense jaw are typical of a woman pissed beyond apologies, and I don’t know what the hell else to say to make her understand.

“I guess we’re at an impasse then, because I don’t know how to be needy.”

I literally pull my hair until it hurts. This fucking woman is going to break me. “Look, I get it. You’re independent and you don’t need anyone and . . .”

“No, you don’t get it.” She interrupts. “I don’t need you . . . not at all. I want you. Wouldn’t you prefer to be wanted? Need implies obligation, like you owe me something. Want is by choice and I choose you, but don’t freak out on me the minute you jump to some lame conclusion and lump me in with the women in your past. I don’t know them and if this is going to work, I’ll be damned if I’m going to be compared to them.”

I hear every word and there’s no argument to counter that she won’t call bullshit on, so I flash her a smile instead. “Okay.”

She laughs. “That’s my line.”

Feeling relieved, I pull into traffic and drive us back to the loft. Since I can’t walk away from Peyton, I vow to start trusting that her intentions are genuine. If I stay, I can’t treat her like she’s Maria. I have to stop looking for the hustle.

I’m going to prove to Peyton and to myself that I’m capable of falling in love again.

A
s I tuck Javier into bed, I think about our week as a family in Mazatlán. Javier’s never been happier and Eduardo’s never been kinder. We swam with dolphins and shopped; we did everything Eduardo promised we would. We were a family on a tropical vacation, like normal families; ones who aren’t involved in the drug-smuggling business. The week was a glimpse of what our life could be like if I let Eduardo take us away.

Eduardo continues to reassure me that he’s getting out of the cartel because he wants more for Javier. For a man who once refused to claim Javier, he’s completely owned by his son. There are moments I lose myself in the delusion of who Eduardo and I are. Times when I truly believe Javier was brought into the world out of love. I try to cling to the warm feelings those thoughts create and sometimes when I close my eyes, I believe the lie my life has become. I believe this is my family. That I was given a choice.

On the flight home as Javier slept in Eduardo’s lap, I considered letting Tug go and giving up any plans to save him. Our love refuses to let me, because no matter how lost I become, Tug always brings me home.

I’ve pondered a million scenarios to save Tug, and the only one that will succeed is the same one that will force me to forget about him.

Once Javier’s breaths grow heavy, I leave the bedroom and find Eduardo seated behind the desk in his office. He spins the chair as I come around the desk. I take his hands and kneel on the floor in front of him.

“What is it?” he asks softly. “You look troubled.”

“I want to thank you for the trip. It was wonderful and I can’t remember a time when I was so happy.”