fallout of our impetuous decision had begun. Since I couldn’t reach my phone, I let it ring.
“Zolt,” I ran my fingers through his bed-mussed, sexy-as-hell hair.
He groaned and pulled me closer to him, wrapping me in his arms. I wanted to stay like this forever, but when his phone went off again, our brief honeymoon ended. Time to face the music, or ringtones, as the case may be.
“Zolt,” I repeated again.
He lifted his head, peeling one eyelid open and then the other.
“Our phones are going crazy, and you’ve pinned me to the bed.”
“Screw them. They can wait.” His phone rang again, and he grumbled and gave in to the inevitable. “Can’t we just turn them off?” He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand while the other hand scrolled through the log on his phone.
“How many missed calls?” I asked, sitting up.
“Five. Two from Brody, three from T.” He turned to me with a frown. “I think our reprieve is over; time to return to our lives.”
My display read six missed calls, all of them from Rachel. I cringed again.
Commence the ass-kicking. Sigh.
“Yep,” I agreed and threw my phone on the bedside table. “But not before we shower and have breakfast.”
“Hmm, yes, a shower….”
Before I could protest, Zolt had me off the bed and in the bathroom.
An hour and a half later, we sat at the table eating breakfast. The shower had taken longer than I’d expected. It’s hard to shampoo your hair when your husband has you pinned against the wall, thrusting deep inside you. But again, I wasn’t complaining.
“Two more calls,” Zolt sighed. He sat his phone on the table and sipped his coffee.
“Three for me.”
“Shall I call T and see what he wants? I’m sure he found something in the Mustang’s stereo.”
“No.” I closed my eyes as dread filled me, not opening them until I felt Zolt squeeze my hand.
“It’s going to be all right, Irelyn. We can handle this.”
I nodded, hating that our bubble had burst, letting in the ugly reality of our life.
“Call T. Let’s get this over with. Then, I’ll call Rach.”
Zolt called T-bone and put the phone on speaker.
“It’s about damn time, Z-man!” T barked over the phone.
“You’re on speaker, and Irelyn is with me.” Zolt shook his head and glowered at the phone.
“Well, you were right. We pulled the stereo from the Mustang and searched through all the mp3 files. My guy found one file labeled Cabo Wabo that turned out to be a text file instead of an MP3. I took the liberty of opening it.”
“And?” we both said at the same time.
“Holy shit. Chris documented everything he could on Marcus, providing a list of all the clients of the club. This list includes major players from entertainment to politics. He placed a code beside their names indicating what kind of activities they partook in.”
I covered my mouth with my hand. “Shit.”
“Oh, and that’s not all. There’s a detailed description of the Aspen Holdings/Black Swan transaction.” T paused and drew in a breath.
Zolt and I glanced at each other, knowing what he said next would be bad.
“Irelyn, I’m afraid what’s in this file isn’t good for your father. Black Swan served as a place to launder money for funds obtained through sex trafficking. Your father’s name is on the corporation of the company that owns Black Swan. It took us a fair bit of digging, but it’s all there in black in white.”
“Oh, fuck,” I mumbled as my breakfast rolled around in my stomach, threatening to make a hasty retreat. “So, Dad’s name is on Xot International?”
“Yep,” T confirmed. “Marcus is a master of covering his ass, so when the shit flies, it won’t land on him.”
Zolt squeezed my hand in support. I tried to take what he offered, but I felt numb—too stunned to even move.
“I think we need to go to Quebec and confront your father. The only way to stop Marcus is for your father to help us.”
“I agree. Hold on for just a minute,
“Zolt,” I ran my fingers through his bed-mussed, sexy-as-hell hair.
He groaned and pulled me closer to him, wrapping me in his arms. I wanted to stay like this forever, but when his phone went off again, our brief honeymoon ended. Time to face the music, or ringtones, as the case may be.
“Zolt,” I repeated again.
He lifted his head, peeling one eyelid open and then the other.
“Our phones are going crazy, and you’ve pinned me to the bed.”
“Screw them. They can wait.” His phone rang again, and he grumbled and gave in to the inevitable. “Can’t we just turn them off?” He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand while the other hand scrolled through the log on his phone.
“How many missed calls?” I asked, sitting up.
“Five. Two from Brody, three from T.” He turned to me with a frown. “I think our reprieve is over; time to return to our lives.”
My display read six missed calls, all of them from Rachel. I cringed again.
Commence the ass-kicking. Sigh.
“Yep,” I agreed and threw my phone on the bedside table. “But not before we shower and have breakfast.”
“Hmm, yes, a shower….”
Before I could protest, Zolt had me off the bed and in the bathroom.
An hour and a half later, we sat at the table eating breakfast. The shower had taken longer than I’d expected. It’s hard to shampoo your hair when your husband has you pinned against the wall, thrusting deep inside you. But again, I wasn’t complaining.
“Two more calls,” Zolt sighed. He sat his phone on the table and sipped his coffee.
“Three for me.”
“Shall I call T and see what he wants? I’m sure he found something in the Mustang’s stereo.”
“No.” I closed my eyes as dread filled me, not opening them until I felt Zolt squeeze my hand.
“It’s going to be all right, Irelyn. We can handle this.”
I nodded, hating that our bubble had burst, letting in the ugly reality of our life.
“Call T. Let’s get this over with. Then, I’ll call Rach.”
Zolt called T-bone and put the phone on speaker.
“It’s about damn time, Z-man!” T barked over the phone.
“You’re on speaker, and Irelyn is with me.” Zolt shook his head and glowered at the phone.
“Well, you were right. We pulled the stereo from the Mustang and searched through all the mp3 files. My guy found one file labeled Cabo Wabo that turned out to be a text file instead of an MP3. I took the liberty of opening it.”
“And?” we both said at the same time.
“Holy shit. Chris documented everything he could on Marcus, providing a list of all the clients of the club. This list includes major players from entertainment to politics. He placed a code beside their names indicating what kind of activities they partook in.”
I covered my mouth with my hand. “Shit.”
“Oh, and that’s not all. There’s a detailed description of the Aspen Holdings/Black Swan transaction.” T paused and drew in a breath.
Zolt and I glanced at each other, knowing what he said next would be bad.
“Irelyn, I’m afraid what’s in this file isn’t good for your father. Black Swan served as a place to launder money for funds obtained through sex trafficking. Your father’s name is on the corporation of the company that owns Black Swan. It took us a fair bit of digging, but it’s all there in black in white.”
“Oh, fuck,” I mumbled as my breakfast rolled around in my stomach, threatening to make a hasty retreat. “So, Dad’s name is on Xot International?”
“Yep,” T confirmed. “Marcus is a master of covering his ass, so when the shit flies, it won’t land on him.”
Zolt squeezed my hand in support. I tried to take what he offered, but I felt numb—too stunned to even move.
“I think we need to go to Quebec and confront your father. The only way to stop Marcus is for your father to help us.”
“I agree. Hold on for just a minute,
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