Serial Story: Jasmine Betrayal, Part 8
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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 |
Jasmine Betrayal
Part 8
Genevieve took in the chaos as she entered her apartment. It had come furnished, of course, the furniture belonging to the actual owner of the lease. She’d have to replace everything with cushions or fabric, as apparently whoever trashed the place had considered anything with stuffing as a potential hiding place. The artwork had all been pulled off the wall, and she really hoped none of it had been expensive. The furniture was going to wipe her out all by itself.
She moved farther into the room, glancing down at the large Persian rug that covered the center of the floor. The edges were still under the furniture and it didn’t looked damaged in any way, nor did the coffee table sitting in the center.
Letting out a relieved sigh, she smiled at Max.
“It’s okay. The papers are still safe. We need to call a lawyer, now.”
Max shook his head. “You may think they’re safe, but until I see them, I’m not buying it. Where are they? Show me.”
She cocked her head to one side, regarding him carefully as she perched one hip on a slashed arm rest and swung her foot.
“You tell me about my father’s death first. Then I’ll show you the papers.”
A slight rustle from the direction of the kitchen made them both turn to look, and a tall, slender man in a dark suit with perfectly white hair stepped into the room, the gun in his hand pointed right at Genevieve.
“I have a better idea,” he said, his voice smooth and easy on the ears. “I’ll tell you what happened to your dad, and you’ll hand the deed to the diner over to me.”
“I thought you said it was all clear.” Genevieve glared at Max, who frowned back.
“It was. Where were you hiding, Jenkins?”
The man smiled, leaning a shoulder against the door frame. “I just stepped outside on the fire escape for a few moments. I figured it was just a matter of time.” He turned back to Genevieve. “Now about your father...”
Max took a step forward. “Don’t,” he said, looking only briefly at Jenkins before meeting Genevieve’s stare. “You don’t want to hear this. Not here, from him.”
She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. “Actually, I do. You had your chance.” Ignoring the raw plea in his eyes, she nodded to Jenkins. “You were saying?”
“Well, as I was saying, Max here works for me. And your old man was ready to pay off the money he owed me - money he borrowed at Max’s request, I found out later. I couldn’t let that happen, of course. I’d already planned out the new resort to put there, and signed all the contracts. The only thing standing in my way was Morano and that damn diner.”
Genevieve blinked back tears, making a point not to look at Max. If he was really the person responsible for her father’s debt in the first place, he may as well have killed him with his own hands.
“In any case, I thought it was fitting that Max clean up this particular mess, so I sent him and some of the other boys to...convince Morano to hand over the deed. Your father refused, things got a little out of hand, and here we are.”
Backing up a couple steps so she could sit on the arm of the couch, Genevieve shook her head. It didn’t make sense. None of it made any sense, and the details were swirling in her head like water circling a drain.
“Why did my dad borrow the money?” she asked Max. “And why didn’t you pay it back, if it was your idea in the first place?”
He started to come closer, but she held up a hand and he stopped, folding his arms over his chest.
“I did pay it back - that’s what Morano was going to use to pay the debt off with. As for the why...I can’t go into details, but I promise it was for a good cause.”
A small noise of disbelief escaped her lips, and she stood up to pace in front of the couch. “Of course. Why would I expect anything less from the man who’s been so honest with me from the moment this whole thing started, right?” She stopped, spearing him with as cold a stare as she could muster, curling her fingers into fists to keep her hands from shaking.
“Just tell me one thing, Max. One honest answer, because I deserve to know. Did you kill my father?”
Enjoy
this post? Support your author:
format every Friday right here on the blog for free. When the story is
done, it will be edited, polished and available for sale at all your
favorite online retailers.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 |
Jasmine Betrayal
Part 8
Genevieve took in the chaos as she entered her apartment. It had come furnished, of course, the furniture belonging to the actual owner of the lease. She’d have to replace everything with cushions or fabric, as apparently whoever trashed the place had considered anything with stuffing as a potential hiding place. The artwork had all been pulled off the wall, and she really hoped none of it had been expensive. The furniture was going to wipe her out all by itself.
She moved farther into the room, glancing down at the large Persian rug that covered the center of the floor. The edges were still under the furniture and it didn’t looked damaged in any way, nor did the coffee table sitting in the center.
Letting out a relieved sigh, she smiled at Max.
“It’s okay. The papers are still safe. We need to call a lawyer, now.”
Max shook his head. “You may think they’re safe, but until I see them, I’m not buying it. Where are they? Show me.”
She cocked her head to one side, regarding him carefully as she perched one hip on a slashed arm rest and swung her foot.
“You tell me about my father’s death first. Then I’ll show you the papers.”
A slight rustle from the direction of the kitchen made them both turn to look, and a tall, slender man in a dark suit with perfectly white hair stepped into the room, the gun in his hand pointed right at Genevieve.
“I have a better idea,” he said, his voice smooth and easy on the ears. “I’ll tell you what happened to your dad, and you’ll hand the deed to the diner over to me.”
“I thought you said it was all clear.” Genevieve glared at Max, who frowned back.
“It was. Where were you hiding, Jenkins?”
The man smiled, leaning a shoulder against the door frame. “I just stepped outside on the fire escape for a few moments. I figured it was just a matter of time.” He turned back to Genevieve. “Now about your father...”
Max took a step forward. “Don’t,” he said, looking only briefly at Jenkins before meeting Genevieve’s stare. “You don’t want to hear this. Not here, from him.”
She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. “Actually, I do. You had your chance.” Ignoring the raw plea in his eyes, she nodded to Jenkins. “You were saying?”
“Well, as I was saying, Max here works for me. And your old man was ready to pay off the money he owed me - money he borrowed at Max’s request, I found out later. I couldn’t let that happen, of course. I’d already planned out the new resort to put there, and signed all the contracts. The only thing standing in my way was Morano and that damn diner.”
Genevieve blinked back tears, making a point not to look at Max. If he was really the person responsible for her father’s debt in the first place, he may as well have killed him with his own hands.
“In any case, I thought it was fitting that Max clean up this particular mess, so I sent him and some of the other boys to...convince Morano to hand over the deed. Your father refused, things got a little out of hand, and here we are.”
Backing up a couple steps so she could sit on the arm of the couch, Genevieve shook her head. It didn’t make sense. None of it made any sense, and the details were swirling in her head like water circling a drain.
“Why did my dad borrow the money?” she asked Max. “And why didn’t you pay it back, if it was your idea in the first place?”
He started to come closer, but she held up a hand and he stopped, folding his arms over his chest.
“I did pay it back - that’s what Morano was going to use to pay the debt off with. As for the why...I can’t go into details, but I promise it was for a good cause.”
A small noise of disbelief escaped her lips, and she stood up to pace in front of the couch. “Of course. Why would I expect anything less from the man who’s been so honest with me from the moment this whole thing started, right?” She stopped, spearing him with as cold a stare as she could muster, curling her fingers into fists to keep her hands from shaking.
“Just tell me one thing, Max. One honest answer, because I deserve to know. Did you kill my father?”
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