The Perfect Cover (The Perfect Stranger #2) - Charlotte Byrd Page 0,52
face. “I did say our business.”
I glare at her.
It's almost as if she can read my mind.
“You were one of my biggest initial investors and I'll always appreciate that. I know that you don't like thinking of yourself as being involved in what I do, but please don't lie to yourself. This is what you do.”
“With all due respect, Tessa, I ran a hedge fund,” I say after a long pause. “You borrowed some money, you invested in my business, I lent you some money and invested in yours. Never have I ever been involved in the drug trade.”
“You know, you financiers are all the same,” Tessa says, crossing her arms across her chest. “You think that just because you wear fancy suits and drive expensive cars and work in high-rises that your money is not out there circulating, doing your dirty deeds and making your percentages. Then, when you're in trouble, you come crawling to me.”
“No,” I say sternly. “I'm not coming to you for help. I came here to get paid. I came here for the money that you owe me. You said that you don't have it and now you're asking me to get my hands dirty to get it back.”
I hate the way that this conversation is going. I would have never taken it here if she hadn’t start pressing my buttons.
Despite all of our differences, I know that I have a long drive to Amboy ahead of me, with her in the passenger seat.
It's the only way that I can get out of this situation and start a new life with Isabelle.
29
Isabelle
When we drive to Amboy…
When Tyler comes back to the motel room and tells me that early the following morning we will be driving out to a town with a population of ten to retrieve some barrels full of cash, I am more than skeptical. But I’m also relieved.
If the barrels actually contain the money that we need, then that’s great. Even though this money is in dollar bills or fives, that's better than nothing.
After a light dinner that I get from the diner next door, I sit by the air-conditioning vent and look out of the only window in the room. I can see the traffic outside on the busy highway rushing past the mountain. There's a stoplight not too far away that seems to get everyone going about sixty miles an hour to a squealing stop.
“I really miss staying in nice hotels,” Tyler says, staring at his plastic fork when he tries to impale a crouton, and I laugh.
“Yeah, this must be something to get used to for you.”
“You have no idea,” he says.
“Tell me about it.”
“Well, I grew up pretty well off. My father traveled a lot for work but he made a really good living.”
The definition of a good living tends to vary a lot, so I ask for details.
“I think he made about $300k a year,” he says, not blinking an eye. “He was defined by every last cent of that money. When I set out to make my fortune, I decided that I would never let money stand in the way. Yes, I wanted to make a lot, millions. The sky was the limit, but there were certain things that I would not do for money. I also wanted to never change my character.”
“I don't think it has,” I say after a long pause.
“No, unfortunately it has. I wasn’t a good husband, not after a while. At first, we were really connected. We loved each other. I thought that I was going to spend an eternity with her. I was excited by that, but after a while, I got so busy with work. It consumed me. I wanted more and more. No number was big enough. Every day I had to make more money than I made the day before. Every quarter I had to top what I made the quarter before. My investors loved me. My wife? She started cheating on me.”
“You're not responsible for her cheating,” I say. “Just like the women who get cheated on, they're not at fault. It's always a cheater's fault.”
“Be that as it may, I could have done better. I could have been there for her more. Instead, I was just there for my clients. People like Tessa.”
“I know that she doesn't seem like the greatest person right about now, but it really says something that she is still paying you back the money.”
“Do you think so?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say,