Making of Them Read online

Chrissy must have looked as confused as she felt, because when she glanced up Pearson gave her a hard stare.

  “I hope I didn’t make a mistake in hiring you, Ms. Serafini.” he said irritably. “Or do you not realize that the UK is five hours ahead of us? It takes eight to ten hours to get there. But the time we arrive it would be 1:00 AM tomorrow.”

  Of course, she knew that. She wasn't used to thinking in those terms. And she didn’t need for Pearson to act like a jerk on her first day. She stared at him, not even batting her eyelashes. “Do you need coffee, Mr. Pearson? Or are you always this cranky?”

  He chuckled then. “There. That’s better. Yes. I’m a beast in the morning. More than any other parts of the day. So yes, I’d like coffee, or rather a latte.”

  Chrissy’s brow furrowed.

  “Just ask the steward,” Pearson said quietly.

  “Sure.” She rose to get up.

  “No,” ordered Pearson. “Just call him. That’s what I pay him for.”

  Now Chrissy felt embarrassed and stuck like a fly in amber. She didn’t want just to shout out, “Hey, steward person,” because she didn’t learn his name when she climbed on board. And here Pearson told her not to go to him. “It’s fine. I have to find the ladies room, anyway.”

  “Do you now?” Pearson murmured sarcastically, staring at his screen.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” she said, with an imperious edge to her voice.

  “Of course,” he said derisively.

  She wasn’t accustomed to being treated as a servant. Even if she now was one.

  Chill, Chrissy. He’s paying you big bucks to take his shit.

  She supposed men like James Pearson, who had everything but manners and class, had to pay big to keep staff.

  But I’m not doing this for the money.

  The next thought slammed into her with the force of a freight train.

  That’s right. You’re doing this because you don’t have guts enough to stand up to your family.

  All her rationalizations pitched themselves in a high-altitude dive out the entry hatch. As she stood, stunned at her insight, the jet jolted and she lurched forward. Nearly tumbling off her feet, she regained herself beyond the lounge’s partition in the tiniest kitchenette she ever saw. The steward sat belted on a bench dropped from the partition wall.

  “Turbulence,” he said knowingly. “Are you okay, Miss?”

  “Excuse me. I don’t know your name.”

  “Harris, Miss.”

  “Harris, Mr. Pearson would like a latte.”

  “Very good, Miss.”

  “And where’s the bathroom?”

  “There’s one in your bedroom, Miss.”

  “My what?” She couldn’t fathom that she’d have a bathroom on Pearson’s jet, let alone a bedroom.

  “Yes, Miss. The next door on the right. Mr. Pearson’s is the one after that.”

  “Thank you, Harris.”

  Chrissy entered, and found herself in a different world. A tiny hallway had a bathroom on the left. The floor and counters were rose marble, and the walls dark wood. A small shower stretched against the back wall, while a small commode sat between the shower and the sink. She could barely turn around in the room, but it was a bathroom, and she could imagine how useful this would be as they traveled.

  She did her business and continued further into the cabin. Again, on her left was a long closet, and she opened it to find her suitcases lined up on folding luggage racks and secured with bungee cords. She continued to the end of that wall, and found the closet ended at the full-sized bed which lay lengthwise against the bulkhead. The closet wall formed a recessed space for the head of the bed, and the dark wood of the headboard wrapped from ceiling to floor. At the foot of the bed hung a wide-screen television.

  The television was an unaccustomed luxury. It almost made her feel lucky to have landed the job with Pearson. Almost.

  Turning around, her breath snapped back into her lungs in shock. James and his usually studious blue eyes stared her down from the doorway of the cabin.

  “I see,” he said with no apology, “that you found your bedroom.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Chrissy said.

  “It’s not a huge room,” he said. “But the ones in my apartments are larger.”

  Chrissy blinked several times over. “Pardon?”

  “You didn’t think for the salary of a million a year you’d be living separately from me, did you?”

  “I didn’t know what to expect.”

  “My business runs twenty-four seven, Ms. Serafini. I can’t afford to have critical staff too far away from me. I realize that this is your first day, but you must get up to speed quicker than this.”

  Chrissy’s hands clenched into fists at her side. What the hell did this man expect?

  And what the hell had she just gotten herself in to?

  CHAPTER TWO

  “It’s for the best,” Luke said as he took a swig of his beer.

  Saks and Luke were sitting in Luke’s living room of the house he shared with his wife, Emily, and their toddler son, Robbie. Normally, Saks enjoyed spending time in Luke’s home, but this wasn’t the same as other days. For one thing, Rob had dumped him here instead of taking Saks back to his parent’s house. Rob had left Luke no choice but to take Saks in, despite his well-vocalized opinion of the entire Chrissy debacle.

  The woman Saks loved had left him, despite his efforts to stop her. The mere idea of his loss left his lips downturned.

  The Hades’ Spawn probie, Hawk, lay in the hospital after being shot while at the pharmacy to pick up Saks’ pain medicine. Saks wanted to be there with the other Spawn, waiting for updates and offering his support, but what he wanted hadn’t been in the cards as of late. Okie, Hades’ president, had been concerned about Saks after everything that had happened, and had told him not to come.

  Lost his girl, nearly his stripes, and his life all in a few days.

  This week fuckin’ sucked.

  Saks drank his glass right down to the dregs. Though it soured his stomach, there was no blaming the beer. It was his own twisted gut, reminding him of just how messed up things were. “I don’t see how you can say that,” Saks finally replied. “One of Pearson’s personal assistants disappeared, and the other turned up dead.”

  “You don’t know if he had anything to do with it.”

  Luke hadn’t been there when Rob Gibson detailed the seriousness of James Pearson’s crimes. Saks had seen the look on the man’s face, and it was one he understood well. He dropped his empty glass onto the table with a thud.

  “Damn it, Saks! That girl is just bad news. Wise guy mafia grandfather, father—damn, the whole freaking family is mob material.”

  “So’s mine,” Saks said pointedly.

  “But yours is at least helpful. If it wasn’t for them, the Rojos would have started bringing drugs in through my fucked-up uncle.”

  “That’s not how your uncle explained it.”

  “And you believe him? No. There’s only one thing Uncle Raymondo Icherra wanted, and that’s me in the family fold. He’d do anything for that to happen, and he won't change his mind one bit about it. If there’s one thing you can be sure of, it’s that he’s looking for a way to get into my business and me into his.”

  Saks could relate. His familia wanted him in the family business. They were so desperate for it they’d agreed to his Uncle Vit’s proposal that Saks marry a Serafini girl. Saks had hated the idea, and even started an affair with a whip-smart and classy gal who melted him on the insides and made him rock-hard on the outside. That the woman had turned out to be the same Serafini his and her family picked to marry Saks was an irony even Shakespeare didn’t tease out of his stories.

  She was the same woman who’d left him to fly off with one James Pearson, a rich fuck, and all- around bad guy. The thought of him being near Chrissy made his blood boil.

  On top of that, his shoulder throbbed like a bitch and the police had, quite rightly, confiscated hi
s pain meds as part of their investigation. The beer didn’t do much to ease the pain in either his shoulder or his heart.

  Saks wasn’t a man who sat around and felt sorry for himself, but today he was getting there fast. He needed a change in his life. Hell, he needed a change in the conversation.

  “Luke. Boss,” Saks corrected as he switched gears. “Our newly hired mechanic is an active FBI agent, and your newly promoted shop manager has a temporarily busted wing. I think it's time to find new personnel.”

  “You’re right,” Luke said sourly. “Damn, ever since Gibs died I can’t keep a crew.”

  “I have an idea, but don’t hate me for it.”

  “What?”

  “More like who. Pepper.”

  Hector Gonzales AKA Pepper was a DEA agent, who thought Luke got a bad deal from the government and tried to help by getting Rob Gibson involved. But in the process, he lied to Okie about Luke’s involvement with the DEA and got him kicked out of the club. No. Pepper wasn’t Luke’s favorite person.

  “No,” Luke growled.

  “But we know his work.”

  “And we found out he’s a liar and a backstabber. No.”

  “He was doing his job.”

  “Look, I don’t fucking care. He betrayed me, you, and the entire club. I can’t trust him, and I won’t hire him back.”

  “Do you want to shut down your shop?” Saks pressed. “Have you even looked at how many Harley shops in New England are looking for technicians? Besides, who do you think can really get the skinny on why Rob Gibson is hanging around our shop?”

  “Sometimes I hate you, Saks,” Luke muttered. He nursed his beer for the distraction that it was.

  Saks sank into the couch. “You know I’m right.”

  “Well, even if that were true, how would we get a hold of him?”

  “Who,” Emily asked as she walked into the living room.

  “Pepper.”

  “Pepper? Oh, he works at the Harley dealership in Hartford.”

  Luke frowned. “And you know this how?”

  “He was the one who resold me the Sportster at Christmas.”

  The Sportster was Luke’s second bike that he’d traded to his and Saks’ lawyer, Matt Stone, as partial payment for helping Luke with his immigration problems. Emily bought the beloved bike back as a Christmas present for her husband.

  “What!” Luke shouted.

  “See, I told you, Saks,” Emily said with a frown.

  “You were in on this, Saks?” Luke asked incredulously.

  Saks held up his hands in mock surrender. “Look, someone told me it was a super-secret Christmas present. You think I’d dare mess with that?”

  Luke shook his head, and Emily set beers in front of him and Saks. “What are you, three?” he muttered to Saks.

  “Now you stop, Luke Wade,” Emily warned. “Super-secret Christmas presents are sacred.”

  Luke scoffed, and Emily whirled and stalked back to the kitchen. While on the surface their discord had been light-hearted, Saks couldn’t help but notice the tinge of disappointment beneath it all. He’d always thought of the pair of them as the perfect couple, so to notice anything less than pleasant at all disheartened him.

  “She okay?” Saks queried.

  “Yeah. Pregnancy.” Luke shrugged.

  Saks had forgotten for a moment that Emily was pregnant. He was pleased for Luke and Emily, but children were one of those things he never thought about. Though he did have brief thoughts about having them when he was with Chrissy, they were fleeting, and didn’t stick around long enough for him to give them serious consideration.

  Luke rose from the couch. “I’ll be right back,” he said. “Damage control.”

  Just as Luke vanished from the room, leaving Saks to wallow in his thoughts, the doorbell rang.

  “Saks, can you get that?” Emily called from another room.

  Saks pushed his body up with a grunt and checked the peephole. It surprised him to see his lawyer, Matt Stone, at the doorstep.

  “Hey, Matt,” he said as he swung the door open. “Come in.”

  “Saks, how have you been?”

  “I’ve had better weeks.”

  “Yeah, I heard. I’ve been trying to reach you.”

  “I was in the hospital.”

  “What’s up with your cell?”

  “Like I said, I’ve been in the hospital. Just got out today. Haven’t checked my phone.” Saks motioned to the couch. “Have a seat. Luke’s in the kitchen with Emily.”

  “That’s fine. I came to talk to you anyway about the traffic ticket.”

  Saks’ brow arched in question. The damn ticket had been a thorn in his side ever since he’d gotten it with a few extra dings. He’d stupidly tried to pass a car at a well-known speed trap, and got yanked by a state trooper. Seeing Saks’ Hades’ Spawn coat, the trooper went overboard, and at an involuntary movement added the charge of resisting arrest. It was the reason Saks had hired a lawyer in the first place.

  “I had a chat with the prosecutor, and I can get it reduced to simple speeding. The resisting arrest charge has been dropped, but they’ll hit you for reckless driving.”

  “Bastards,” Saks muttered.

  “I talked him into dropping the speeding charge if you take drivers’ re-education. Usually, that's reserved for people with more serious violations, but it was the only way I could get the speeding charge dropped. That's how the judicial system rolls. They want you to feel a little pain. He’ll continue the case until you take the class, and then he’ll make his recommendations.”

  Saks huffed lightly as he picked up his beer again. He wondered how Matt finessed that deal. Saks had a high stack of points against him with law enforcement between the Spawn, his family, and the mess last year with the Rojos and the Hombres, which resulted in those people kidnapping him.

  “Well, if I can get away without points on my license, that would be helpful. Not sure how many more I could spare.”

  “I aim to give my clients the best value I can,” Matt responded. “You’ve got a court case tomorrow, but since I'll have it continued you don’t have to show. I’ll be there.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Now, one more thing. What's this about in the news with the Hades’ Spawn guy being shot?”

  “He’s a probie, Hawk, who Okie sent to help me on my first day out of the hospital.”

  “Your cousin, Anglotti, contacted me, ostensibly as part of the investigation. From what I get, his bosses want to spin this shooting a retribution for a failed drug deal. They pointed to the prescription Hawk picked up as evidence of trying to deal pain killers.”

  “What? That’s ridiculous.”

  “Really? You are aware, aren’t you, that a single Percocet goes for five bucks a pill on the street? That a bottle of thirty can net you a profit of $125?”

  “No. Why would I be aware of something like that?”

  “Okay,” Matt said, nodding his head. “That’s good. In the future, don’t talk to any law enforcement without me being there. Just say, ‘under advice of counsel, I decline to answer until my lawyer is present.’”

  “That’s why my cousin didn’t contact me directly, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Matt replied. “He knows you have a lawyer, and is following protocol.”

  “And protecting both our asses,” Saks grumbled. “I get it.” Which also meant no calling his cousin for info, either.

  Matt saluted, and chuckled. “Then I’ve done my Boy Scout deed of the day. I’ll put it on your bill.”

  “Thanks,” Saks said wryly.

  “I’ll let myself out,” Matt offered.

  “Aren’t you going to stay for a beer?” Luke asked. He stood at the doorway of the dining room, leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed.

  “Sorry, man. Places to go. People to see.” Matt meant it, too, given his quick departure out the door.

  “Later,” Luke shouted after him before his eyes fell square on Saks. “So
. More shit from your end.”

  “Hey, that’s harsh,” Saks protested.

  Luke shrugged. “Yeah. Truth’s a bitch.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Ms. Serafini.” The semi-sharp voice jolted Chrissy into the present. “Did we hear back from Kosikov?”

  James walked into the living room of his London apartment, wrangling the buttons into the buttonholes of his top-of-line Brooks Brothers $250-dress shirt.

  So, she thought sarcastically. We’re semi-casual today.

  In the past month, Chrissy had been unfortunately privy to a good dose of her boss’ idiosyncrasies and clothing choices. Because part of her job was making sure that his wardrobe was in tip-top condition, she became intimately acquainted with each piece of clothing. She knew where it came from and how much it cost. She still remembered as if it was a scar across her soul. His Emma and Willis $500 evening shirt suffered a gravy stain, and he’d had a fit when the grease stain set. Had he given her the shirt, she would have used her mother’s cleaning magic to disappear the stain. But no. He didn’t see his personal assistant as a laundress.

  She was just supposed to be everything else.

  “No, Mr. Pearson.”

  “Then call him back.”

  “I will, Mr. Pearson, but every call so far has gone to voice mail.”

  “Then forget it,” Pearson snapped. “If you can’t handle a simple phone call—”

  “Your latte is on the kitchen counter and getting cold,” Chrissy said, cutting him off. She used the calm tone she’d cultivated on her first day on the job. It was exhausting getting angry at him, and ultimately not worth it. “In fact, if you keep on like this, the foam will evaporate and then where will you be?”

  Pearson huffed and then smiled.

  “Damn. I love when I don’t rattle you,” he said.

  “Good. Just remember I’m leaving in two days to visit my family.”

  “Remind me again why this is necessary.”

  Chrissy frowned. “My father is getting heart surgery.”

  “Right. I guess that’s important.”

  “I’m sorry; he pushed up the surgery a month. Don’t worry—Jessica will be here to pick up the slack. She’s coming in today, and I have an entire twenty-four hours to get her up to speed.”