Tattooed Emotions Page 8

  I shook my head, frustrated with myself.

  I shouldn’t be thinking about Damien or his eyes or his mouth.

  Luckily, the sound of Iris padding down the hallway distracted me.

  I rotated to give her an affectionate smile, taking in her green-and-white polka-dot pajamas with matching green slippers. “Good morning.”

  “Morning.” Iris yawned and passed by me to sit on the other kitchen stool to my left.

  “How was class yesterday?” I took a drink from my mug.

  Since I knew she had been off from bartending last night to take a college course for her education as an ultrasound technician, I wanted to spend some time with her this morning before I headed off to the office.

  “Long.” Iris sighed and set her elbow on the table where she held her head up with her hand. “I have a boatload of studying to do before I work the second shift at Westland today. My professor is trying to kill me.”

  “I don’t miss those days one bit.” I scrunched up my nose and laughed even though, on the inside, I was so unbelievably proud of Iris.

  She worked at Westland Medical Group full-time, she bartended at Keith’s Bar & Grill at least twenty hours a week to pay extra on her college loan payments, and she was still furthering her education. She was a superwoman in my books.

  “I’m more than ready for them to be over.” She yawned again, and then her gaze settled on my coffee. Her spare hand glided across the countertop. “But I can think of something that will brighten my morning.”

  I protectively brought my mug toward my chest and glared at her. “Get your own, lady. This one’s mine.”

  “I can’t move. I’m too tired,” she whined, slumping forward to bury her face in her forearms.

  I knew she was playing at my heartstrings, yet I couldn’t help but slip into action. She was exhausted. I rose from my seat and went around the kitchen island where I slipped a new K-Cup into our Keurig and put a coffee mug beneath it. As I waited for the machine to brew, I made Iris some toast and loaded it with butter and Jif peanut butter, her favorite. As I moved about the room, Iris was so quiet that I almost wondered if she’d dozed off.

  I placed her coffee mug and plate of food off several inches to the side of her.

  She lifted her head to the sound of the glass plate hitting the counter where she glanced at the items and then me, beaming. “Gosh, I love you.”

  “Back atcha.” I winked, sitting back down in my stool.

  Iris took a sip of her coffee, flinching slightly as she swallowed. “Shit, that’s hot. But so yummy.”

  “So, are you free tonight, or do you have plans?” I asked as Iris took a bite of her toast.

  She shook her head, swallowing. “I have to work second shift at Westland today, and then I picked up another four-hour shift at the bar tonight.”

  “Wow. No wonder you’re beat.”

  “I am. I work Saturday, too. But I’m off on Sunday. We could veg all day or have a girls’ day and go shopping?” she queried, her tone hopeful.

  “Sounds perfect to me.”

  “So, what’s new with you?” Iris pensively eyed me. “You’ve looked stressed the past few days.”

  Everything that had happened with Damien and Cale poured out of my mouth, and it felt good to finally let it out. Iris listened intently as I told her of Damien’s accusations and the files he’d given me to prove that Cale had been disloyal.

  “You sound quite ruffled by this Damien character,” Iris noted aloud before taking another bite of her meal.

  “I am, but I don’t want to be,” I admitted. I sighed in defeat, slouching forward. “And he kissed me.”

  She choked and coughed on her toast, making me squirm at my confession. “He what?” she exclaimed.

  I knew she’d heard me the first time, but I repeated myself anyway, still unable to believe it was true, “He kissed me.” I forced myself not to replay the memory in my mind as I weakly attempted to defend myself, “Well, technically, Damien told me that he was going to kiss me…but I let him.”

  “Wow,” Iris said in awe. “Are you going to see him again?”

  “No.” I adamantly shook my head. “No, not in that way. It would be a conflict of interest.” I shrugged, apprehending it was more than just work. I couldn’t let Damien slip beneath my armor. I needed to stay far away from him.

  “Uh-huh. I’ll remember you said that,” she drawled, sounding dramatic. “Besides, you do realize that you have to see Damien again to get to the bottom of his allegations, right? Did you look at the files he gave you?”

  “No.”

  Iris showed her surprise in her facial features. “Why not?”

  “Because I’m scared. What if Damien is right?” I voiced my worst fear. “Cale would be guilty of embezzling thousands upon thousands of dollars from Damien.”

  Iris set her hand on mine. Her eyes filled with sympathy. “Raelyn, you’ve put your heart, blood, sweat, and tears into growing a successful, thriving accounting business. You owe it to yourself and Adam and Jennings Accounting Services to find out the truth. You’ve never been one to go down without a fight. You’ll win this. I promise.”

  “I hope so.” I frowned, feeling deeply troubled. “Do you think Cale is capable of embezzlement?”

  Iris’s expression matched my own, and I knew it was because she was fond of Cale, too. We all went back several years. Our friendship was strong.

  “Honestly, I don’t have an answer for you. But why would Damien Heathman waste his time in making false accusations?”

  To me, that was the million-dollar question. It didn’t make sense for Damien to lie.

  At my silence, Iris continued to speak, “You have to read the file, Raelyn. You know that, right?” Her voice was quiet.

  I wished Iris were wrong, but I couldn’t ignore the file from Heathman Enterprises any longer. I had to know the truth even if it crushed me. “Yes,” I murmured. “I don’t have much of a choice in the matter, do I?”

  “No, honey.” Iris linked her fingers with mine and squeezed. “You don’t.”

  At the office, all morning, the file from Heathman Enterprises had taunted me from its position on the corner of my desk. It was pure torture at its finest. After I took a look at the accounts that required my attention first, I found my gaze wandering again.

  CONFIDENTIAL

  HEATHMAN ENTERPRISES

  My fingers itched to open the folder while the rest of me was terrified of what repercussions might arise by doing so. I had a pretty good hunch that reading those documents would open a can of worms. But to intentionally keep myself in the dark wouldn’t be a wise route either. I was going to have to face the storm sooner or later.

  On an unshakable impulse, my hand shot forward and grabbed the thick white folder, clearly choosing sooner rather than later.

  I gave my undivided attention to the spreadsheets of Heathman Enterprises where I calculated each monthly expense and revenue, and I documented my findings on a new form. Then, I flipped to the second set of documents labeled Adam & Jennings Accounting Services to recalculate those totals.

  After countless hours of tallying the two separate documents, I leaned back in my chair and stared at the numbers with wide eyes, attempting to wrap my head around what I was seeing. My findings were astounding and had left me speechless.

  A difference of $67,584.43 was unaccounted for between the totals, with the Adam & Jennings documents being the lesser of the two.

  Damien was right. A substantial sum of money was missing within his companies’ overhead. Furthermore, there were twenty-seven withdrawals divided between nine accounts that precisely totaled the lost funds. Surely, it couldn’t have grown legs and crawled off.

  Unable to accept the totals not adding up, I whipped open the top drawer of my desk and grabbed another blank spreadsheet where I dived back in for round two. There had to be a mistake. I was missing something crucial.

  I tallied the numbers again in hopes that I’d pr
eviously added them incorrectly. This time around, I wrote down the account number where each of the twenty-seven withdrawals had been transferred. They had all been deposited into the same offshore account.

  When I finished, I put my face into my hands, lowered my head, and let my elbows catch my fall on a deeply troubled sigh. This was bad, really bad.

  Knowing without an inkling of a doubt that one of these spreadsheets was incorrect, I maneuvered my fingers to see my papers and glanced between the two files.

  Heathman Enterprises versus Adam & Jennings Accounting Services danced around in my head over and over again.

  Who is right? Who is lying?

  More importantly, whom do I trust?

  I couldn’t fathom why Cale would have done something like this, putting our accounting firm at stake, but it didn’t make sense for Damien to make false accusations either.

  “Shit,” I cursed under my breath as my office door burst open. I jumped while my gaze darted up to see Cale breezing into the room.

  “Hey, workaholic,” Cale hummed in an upbeat tone. His long strides were quickly eating up the gap between us.

  I hunched over my workspace, scrambling to cover the files without drawing too much attention to my movements. “Hi,” I said with a smile, my voice coming out all squeaky and wrong.

  “It’s past five o’clock, so it’s time to close up shop.” Cale grinned and sat in the chair across from my desk. “Are you still coming out with Kate, Noah, and me tonight?”

  “What?” My mind drew a blank. I was too focused on the Heathman files.

  Cale looked at me oddly, and he answered, “Kate said you and Iris were coming with us to Al Fresco’s Bar tonight.”

  I gently connected my palm with my forehead. “Shit, I’m sorry. I completely spaced it.”

  “No worries. You can still come with us.” Cale chuckled and leaned back in his seat. He crossed his right leg over the left at the ankles, revealing his black-and-white checkered socks.

  Before I could process my thoughts, Cale briefly glanced at my stack of papers and then back up at me. “What has you working so late anyway?”

  “Oh, nothing specific.” I shrugged casually and tapped my fingers against the wood, so he wouldn’t notice they were shaking. “You know, just always playing catch-up.”

  “Well, good thing there’s always tomorrow.” He cocked his head to the side with a teasing smirk that normally would’ve made me laugh at my friend. “Or should I say, Monday? Either way, come hang out with us. You can ride with me, and I’ll buy.”

  “Uh…” I fumbled for an excuse until a brilliant idea presented itself. “Actually, I can’t. I have to wrap up Mr. and Mrs. Frank Vickerman’s accounting for this month before their upcoming estate sale in two weeks.”

  Cale frowned quizzically, making me realize I’d probably just contradicted my earlier words about working on nothing specific.

  Crap.

  He must not have taken notice because he queried, “You can’t finish it on Monday morning?”

  “No, I really can’t.” I forced a laugh that was too pitchy, feeling like scum for lying through my teeth. “You know how Mrs. Vickerman can be. She wants everything done on the flip of a dime.”

  “That she does.” Cale sighed in defeat.

  I sagged in respite because I was off the hook.

  Then, his eyes broadened, shimmering with delight. “Do you want me to stay with you and help, so you can get out of here, and we can still make it to the bar?”

  “No, no! I’m fine!” My hands sprang out in front of me as if I were trying to prevent myself from crashing into a wall—in a sense, I was going to, headfirst. “I have other files to work on, too, so you go on ahead without me, and we’ll catch up another time.”

  He observed me for a few moments, and I was sure my face was growing redder by the second. I was relieved when he finally acknowledged me with a nod of his head.

  He rose from the chair. “All right.” He cocked his head to the side and pointed at me. “But next Friday, no excuses.”

  “Next Friday,” I agreed.

  After Cale walked off, I face-planted my forehead onto my desk with a groan. I was a horrible friend, and I deserved to rot like a fungus-filled sack of potatoes for the line of trust I was about to break.

  I wasn’t sure why I tiptoed into Cale’s office when no one was there. I couldn’t help but do so as my guilty conscience ate away at me. He’d never forgive me if he knew that I was snooping behind his back.

  I didn’t turn on the light when I made my way over to his tall file cabinets. I went to the center one that displayed G–N where I opened it and quickly looked up Damien’s last name.

  I grabbed the folder labeled Heathman Enterprises, shut the drawer, and darted out of the room, closing the door behind me. I scurried back to my office and got back to work.

  Opening all three spreadsheets in front of me, I tried to see which document Cale’s matched up to. It would either be accurate with Heathman Enterprises’ assessment, therefore proving that Damien was being dishonest with his accusations, or it would match Damien’s photocopies of the documents from Adam & Jennings that he’d given me, showing that my close friend had betrayed our joint company and my trust, effectively crumbling my world.

  The total number matched Damien’s photocopies of the Adam & Jennings paperwork, leaving $67,584.43 unaccounted for in the projected balance.

  My trusted friend of many years had indeed done the unthinkable, stealing an obscene sum of money from Damien for just over the past four months.

  “No,” I cried on a strangled whisper, desperately wanting to deny what my eyes were clearly telling me. “It can’t be.”

  At the idea of my business being in severe jeopardy, I was on the verge of hyperventilating, and I suddenly felt nauseous. I closed my eyes and forced myself to take in slow deep breaths before gradually releasing them.

  There was no way Damien Heathman was going to let Cale off the hook after stealing from him, nor should he, which meant I was equally responsible for repaying all of that stolen money. Sure, I could wait to go to court, but that would undoubtedly drag my company’s name and the reputation that I’d worked hard to build through the gutter. Or I would have to pay off the debt, which was more than I had left in my savings account after investing in Adam & Jennings with the gifted funds from my biological mother.

  My stomach rolled and churned.

  Oh God, I need to stop thinking. This was only making me more ill.

  How could Cale deceive me like this?

  My physical sickness was quickly replaced with anger as his betrayal cut me deeply. Before I could stop myself, I grabbed my belongings, locked up the office, and stormed toward my car.

  Rage fueled my movements. I tossed my purse onto the passenger seat, started my car, and drove off in the direction of the bar where I knew my friends would be having drinks. In my rearview mirror, I saw a sports car quickly catching up behind me, and I could have sworn it was a black Mitsubishi, but I paid no further attention to it. I had a one-track mind.

  I pulled into Al Fresco’s Bar’s parking lot and turned into the first vacant spot, noting the black car parked a few spaces away. I snatched my purse and exited the car, locking it behind me, and then I noticed Damien was running after me. I ignored him and headed for the bar while digging through my bag for my ID. His footsteps were rapidly catching up to me.

  “Raelyn, wait a minute.”

  Damien tried to reach for my hand, but I shook him off and barreled forward.

  “Leave me alone,” I warned.

  “No. You can’t go charging in there. It could be dangerous.”

  I wasn’t afraid of Cale, so I shot Damien an accusing glance over my shoulder. “Wait. Why are you following me?”

  “To make sure you’re safe,” he replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to say to me.

  It wasn’t. I could take care of myself.

  “Thank you for your
concern, but I can look out for myself,” I told him when I approached the front entrance of the building.

  A massive bouncer with spiky hair and a white cutoff shirt that exposed his biceps gazed down at me, and I showed him my ID. The man opened the door for me, and I slipped into the crowd before Damien could catch me.

  I maneuvered through the sea of people as my eyes scanned the crowd. The front tables were full of men and women, and others were surrounding the area. I zigzagged through any gaps I could find.

  “Raelyn!” Damien yelled after me, causing me to increase my steps.

  I caught a break and spotted Cale sitting at the end of a booth off to the left side of the bar, so I headed straight for him without breaking my stride.

  Cale glanced up and saw me. He beamed and stood to his feet as I approached. “Hey, you made it!”

  I didn’t give him the satisfaction of greeting him. Instead, I connected my palm with the side of his cheek, slapping him hard across his face. “You son of a bitch!” I yelled.

  Damien pulled me back against his firm chest. His body was tense and rigid.

  Kate let out a gasp in the background.

  Cale staggered back in shock, hitting the side of his body on the upper part of the booth. “What the fuck, Raelyn?” he shouted, outraged. He threw his palm over the pink mark I had left on his skin before rising to his full height once again. “What in the hell has gotten into you?” he slurred drunkenly.

  When Cale advanced my way, Damien stepped to my side while still keeping his hold on me. “Stay right there, Cale, or so help me God, I’ll fucking put you six feet under,” he threatened in a bone-chilling deep tone, making me believe his promise.

  Cale’s eyes bulged as he finally spotted Damien.

  I cut in before Cale could dig himself into a deeper hole, “How could you?” I looked into the eyes of my friend. “I trusted you!”

  “And what exactly did this guy say to make you believe I’ve broken your trust? Did he also tell you that he uses women and tosses them aside like bags of trash?” Cale laughed humorously with his attention darting between Damien and me. “If you want a list of fuck-ups, you should be looking at Damien, not me. I’ve done nothing wrong.”