“Let me help,” she says. “I want to help you and Gigi.”
Nick hangs up, shoves the phone back in a pocket. “This traffic is really jacking with our plan.”
I stare at the sea of brake lights and try not to puke because he’s right. This traffic is a problem, and so is the fact that Darius and Vance are about to beat us there. They need me to go in first, to turn off the alarm and unlock the back door, then flush Sebastian out of the playroom with the promise of money in the truck. As soon as I’ve lured him away from Jade and Beatrix, the bouncers and Nick will take Sebastian down, right before they disappear into the night.
But the timing is tight. I drift to the right, nudging the truck into the nonexistent shoulder, then jerk the tires back onto the road just in time. The bumper misses a stone mailbox by a hair.
“Isn’t there a shortcut?” Nick says. “Try a side street or something. There’s got to be another way in.”
“Shut up and let me drive.”
I ride a Buick’s bumper and swipe between cameras on my phone, checking in on every angle. I stop on the bird’s-eye view of the room and see Beatrix is getting restless in her chair. Her right hand is tugging at the bindings.
Nick grunts. “Maybe the others should go ahead and—”
“No. Not unless I give them the sign. Not until things go south.”
“Pretty sure things went south hours ago.”
I don’t respond, even though Nick is right. Again.
I white-knuckle the wheel and look past the Buick to a turnoff up ahead, marked with a stone pillar and a bright green street sign. Fifty yards. Only fifty yards of this deadlock to go.
I flick my lights and press forward until I’m flush to the Buick’s bumper, keeping one eye on the camera feed. Sebastian is getting worked up, his whole body becoming energized. His face gleams, and he starts moving about the room, bouncing between the three cameras, giving them full-on shots of his face.
He says my name, and my lungs go hard as concrete.
“He told me it was a no-brainer. He said his other shops were spitting out profits in the first year. He guaranteed we’d have our money back, that we’d double it in no time. He knew I was counting on my investment to pay for Gigi’s medical costs, and he swore he wouldn’t let this project fail. And then you know what happened? He let it fail. He walked away and left me holding the bill.”
I glance over at Nick. “I never said any of that. He knew about the risks. He’s lying.”
Nick grunts, a detached sound that says he couldn’t care less either way.
“Seriously, man. That’s not how it happened.”
I don’t know why I’m being so defensive, why I care that this man-bunned, leather-clad arsonist who’s been following my wife believes me, but there it is. I am ashamed of my behavior. I don’t want anybody to know what I did.
“What, a kidnapper lie?” Nick swings an ankle over a knee. “Shocking.”
When Sebastian floated the idea of us becoming partners, offering up the building he’d inherited from his grandmother in return for a stake in the restaurant, I warned him there were risks. But in the same breath, I also told him not to worry.
Oakhurst was to be my sixth shop in a city that couldn’t get enough of me. All we had to do was fix the place up, fire up the grill and open the doors, and people would come running. I didn’t use the words no-brainer, but I might as well have. I certainly gave him that impression.
And then Fred couldn’t fill the tables in the West Side shop—first on weekdays, then weekends. Staff was walking out, abandoning ship for restaurants that could keep them flush with tips. I had no other choice but to fire Fred and step in, but it took a few months to get back up to speed. No way I had the bandwidth for a sixth shop.
George’s parting word whispers in my ear: karma.
Of course I knew when Sebastian offered to front the renovation costs before either of us had signed on the dotted line, I should have told him to hold off. Every time he’d call with an excited update on the latest investment, new windows and a new roof and floors, a new layer of asphalt on the lot or the top-of-the-line appliances he paid for out of his own pocket, I knew I should have put on the brakes. I watched it all happen, and I never once told him to stop.
His face when I bailed. God, I will never forget it, or the words he said to me over and over. I need this, Cam. I need this or my daughter will die.
I told myself he was exaggerating, that universal health care would pay for whatever treatment his sick daughter needed. I figured another chef would be enticed by the promise of a Lasky-grade kitchen and snap up my sloppy seconds. I was wrong on both accounts, and the truth is, I didn’t much care. I was too damn busy trying to keep my own ass afloat.