Page 9 of Filthy Little Lies

“What will you do?”

“Is it your boyfriend?” The question pisses me off. The idea that there is some asshole out there waiting for her to come home to him heats my blood.

“No.” A lock of hair sticks to her lip when she shakes her head. “You won’t hurt them?”

“Nothing life threatening. It’s the best I can do.” I shrug. “Now tell me.”

It’s not like she has much of a choice here. She’s locked in my house. At my mercy. But still she delays the inevitable.

“Okay.” She blows out a hard breath, rolls her shoulders back, and thrusts her chin up. “It was me. I forged the papers.”

It takes a full minute before the information sinks in. “You?”

The question comes out harder than I intended.

“Yes, me. What? Did you think a woman couldn’t do something like that? I’m not capable of it?”

“It has nothing to do with you being a woman.” It has everything to do with how innocent she appears. “Do you know how much money you cost me?”

“You said a hundred thousand dollars. And I can pay you back. I just need those diamonds back, and I’ll get you your money.”

“By pulling the same scam at another pawn shop? How many times have you done this?” If she’d gotten caught by someone else, she might not be alive right now.

My jaw tightens.

Reckless!

“I don’t know.” It’s the first thing she’s said that I actually believe.

“You said there were people waiting for you. Who was it?” I’m not going to like the answer. I know it, but I ask anyway.

She scrunches her lips together. “I’m not sure you should know.”

I inhale a long breath, trying to find the patience I lost years ago.

Liar, con-artist, reckless and infuriating! The list continues to grow.

“I should,” I assure her, my fingers curling into my palms.

“Vincent Ricci. A job I did for him didn’t go right. The papers were flagged as forgeries, and he was out a lot of money. He’s demanded I pay him back what he paid me plus what he lost by the deal not going through. That’s why I needed to get the cash today so fast. I was supposed to meet him three hours ago.”

Vincent Ricci is a loan shark. He usually keeps his business on the north side of town, preying on the trust fund kids of the Gold Coast who needed cash to pay off gambling debts or to buy drugs without their families finding out.

“Why would he need forged documents?” I ask, then put my hand up to stop her from answering. “We’ll get to all of that later.”

Now that I know what the situation is, I can decide how to handle it. But first and foremost, we need to discuss the day’s events.

“There is no later. He thinks I’ve ditched him, and he was very clear what would happen if I did that, so if you would just let me leave so I can explain to him what happened⁠—”

“You’re not talking to him.” I push off the door, my mind made up. “Not tonight. Not ever.”

She balks. “You can’t tell me that. You have no say in who I talk to and when.”

I step over the fallen bookshelves. “You have no idea how untrue that is.”

“Look. I get it, you’re mad about the forged certificates. But you never gave me the loan or paid me for the diamonds, so no harm, no foul.” She points a finger at me as I eliminate the space between us.

“Your documents were used in another scheme at a different location. A signed baseball card, ball, and bat. All forgeries, the papers included.”