The words fell flat in the empty bar, but her father said nothing about the folly of putting all her eggs in one basket. “This will help the East Side, Dad.”
“I was out at the prison yesterday. Victor said Lyle showed up without warning during visiting hours last Friday,” he said. “He says his son is full of big talk and improbable dreams, like always.”
Her heart thudded against her breastbone, then stayed lodged in her throat. That’s why she wouldn’t shut down. Her family had a long history with the Murphys, from her father’s lifelong friendship with Victor to her own unpredictable, complicated relationship with his ambitious son, Lyle. Lyle had paid her a visit, asking for some help with his own startup.
“A business associate of mine will bring you some cash during the evening, when you’re open. You deposit it with your nightly take, then transfer it into another company’s online account. A trip to the bank and a couple of clicks of the mouse.”
“You’re starting a new business,” she said, her brain whirring furiously away. “Selling…?”
“I’m in recreation,” Lyle said.
Which meant drugs. Lyle would be back only if the opportunity was worth his while, which meant something big, generating enough income that he’d need it laundered. A bar like hers that took in thousands of dollars a week in cash without providing a tangible product was the perfect front. “The bank will notice if my deposits jump suddenly.”
“It won’t be much,” he said easily. “A little more on Fridays and Saturdays, a little less during the week. You’re busy. Doing well. No one will notice.”
“And you’d want me to transfer it to other accounts?”
He nodded.
“Business income must be accounted for and taxed,” she said, as if she was worried about tax evasion. “Taxes pay for schools and roads and business development parks that provide jobs for local residents.”
He leaned forward, all earnestness. “I don’t mind funding local projects. Five percent ongoing for your trouble, to get you through the dry spells, or to help any community organization you want. Your dad’s new program. The basketball court looks pretty rough. He could buy new computers for the job training program.”
He thought he could buy her. She pursed her lips, like she was considering the offer.
“You don’t have to give me an answer now,” he said. “I’ll catch you later, see what you’ve decided.”
She’d seen a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to take apart a prominent pipeline of cocaine and heroin into Lancaster, and gone to the police with the information. They’d asked her if she’d help them get the evidence they’d need to take out the biggest threat to the East Side’s economic and social health.
She was the linchpin, and she couldn’t tell anyone. Lieutenant Ian Hawthorn, her contact, made two things abundantly clear: they needed hard and fast evidence of Lyle Murphy’s intent to launder drug money through Eye Candy, and she couldn’t tell a soul what she was doing. Not her father, who believed in salvation and second chances. Not her brother, a defense attorney who believed all cops were lying bullies with badges. Not her best friend and manager. No one. Which meant she couldn’t say anything to her father about staying away from Victor, his best friend from childhood, because Victor might tip off Lyle.
“Nothing wrong with dreaming, Dad,” she said finally.
“You’ll be at dinner Monday night?”
Two years ago, before the rift over her job that kept her from the Webber Monday family nights for eighteen months, he wouldn’t have asked. “I will,” she said lightly. “Love to Mom.”
The door closed behind her father, and Eve went back to the cartons of fruit waiting for her, wielding the knife precisely, as if lemons sliced in quarter-inch increments would settle her nerves. But as she worked, the memory of the shuttered look in Chad’s dark hazel eyes skittered across her skin to settle deep in her belly. While every owner and manager paid lip service to appropriate relationships and professional work environments, the sexually charged atmosphere of bars and nightclubs was a breeding ground for quick, explosive, short-lived relationships based on chemistry—the kind of chemistry she’d felt in one ten-minute interview. With the bar finally launched to a promising whirlwind of buzz and a whole lot of chemistry with her newest bartender candidate, for the first time in a very long time, she could look forward to mixing a little pleasure with business.
What her parents didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. Everyone kept secrets, even a pastor’s daughter.
*