3 Chapter 3

"Cilia, I'm here!"

Riley wasn't overly surprised when no one called back. It was usually a fifty-fifty chance that her mom would be home when she said she would be. Cilia's schedule was about as predictable as the woman herself. She was probably tracking the migration pattern of sea turtles again. Cilia was convinced the little bastards were plotting to take over the planet due to their extreme longevity.

Cilia Bancroft was special. A super genius, actually. She loved Riley. Or at least Riley hoped she did. She just wasn't able to show it in a classic motherly way. She was a really good accountant, but sketchy as fuck. She usually managed to con rich people out of shit tons of money and walk away from them after a few years. They would beg her to continue services, never knowing that she'd stolen their money.

Riley was proud of her mother's talents, but she worried too. Cilia was addicted to gambling, but her autistic brain made it impossible for her not to count the cards and weigh the odds. The challenge of winning, of pitting herself against an opponent drew Cilia to the tables. The danger of being found out appealed to the beautiful widow and terrified her daughter. Luckily, Riley had sufficient contacts in the gambling world to get her mom blacklisted from the legitimate casinos in the city. The underground gambling clubs had been a little more difficult, but she had pulled sway on her dad's reputation until Cilia's money was no good anywhere in the city.

Unfortunately, Riley's machinations against her mother's addiction had created a rift between the two women. Though Riley continued to doggedly care for her mother, despite Cilia's coldness toward her only daughter.

Riley set an armload of groceries on the counter and began pulling food out of the reusable sacks. Cilia wouldn't bother eating if food wasn't brought to her. Like a child, the food had to be either easily eaten or pre-made. Which was probably for the best. Riley shuddered at the thought of her mother using a stove. Knowing Cilia, she would turn the element on, dump a pile of newspapers on it and walk away.

The front door slammed shut as Riley was finishing reorganizing the pantry. She frowned at a pile of used dog toys next to the cereal and wondered if Cilia was going to get a puppy. Should she start buying dog food now, too?

"Grocery day?" Cilia asked absently, wandering into the kitchen. The hems of her jeans were soaking wet and her usually flawless blond hair was chaotic and windswept. She slammed a bucket full of what smelled like sea water on the counter. She had been down to the ocean.

"Yeah, Cilia, I told you I would be by. Remember?" Riley answered, stepping away from the bucket. Experience told her that she didn't want to know what was going on in there. "What's with the dog toys? Are you sure you should be getting another pet? Or do we need to discuss Hamstergate again?"

Cilia gave her a sharp look. "They belong to the neighbour dog, of course. It's a barking experiment."

Without explaining further, she turned to the sink and tipped the stinky contents of her bucket. Riley turned away and stealthily snuck the toys into one of her grocery bags. It wasn't the dog's fault her mother was always experimenting on the poor creatures of the world. Speaking of which, she most definitely did not want to know what was happening in the sink, judging from the odd sucking sounds.

Edging toward the front door of her mother's bungalow, she asked, "Want to go out for supper or drinks on Friday after work?"

Cilia's back stiffened. "Can we go to Merchant's?"

An underground casino lounge.

Riley sighed in resignation. "No, mom."

"Then I'm busy," Cilia answered coldly, not turning around.

Riley left, letting the screen door slam behind her. She loved her mother, but the woman was beyond frustrating. She emptied her grocery bag of dog toys to a very happy, wiggling boxer cross, reached over the fence to pat his head and then crossed the street to her roadster and drove back to the shop. She needed to get one of the guys to make a call for her.

She got Wendell to help her with the call. He was a mechanic similar in age to her, loyal to both her and her father and not in the least gossipy. He'd been hired at the age of fifteen after his older brother, a shop mechanic, was killed in a gang shooting. He and Riley practically grew up around cars together and had an easy, almost sibling-like relationship. She even went to the occasional Sunday supper with his parents, wife and kids, something she missed in her own life. He did raise an eyebrow when he found out who he was making a call to. Apparently, he had a few qualms over lying to the most lethal man in the city, but ultimately agreed.

"It's not like he'll ever find out it was you," Riley begged.

"Yeah, okay," Wendell agreed, eying Riley's curves under her loose overalls. "Only because I think it's a damn good idea to keep your identity out of this particular guy's hands."

They put the phone on speaker after dialling. Riley waited breathlessly, hoping it would go to voicemail. It didn't. Soloman Hart picked up on the third ring, his deep measured voice answering as though he had been expecting the call.

"This is Riley Bancroft," Wendell said, looking at Riley as he spoke. "I was told you wanted to speak with me, Mr. Hart."

There was a long pause before Soloman's deep drawling voice answered. "Yes, thank you for getting in touch. Did your mechanic tell you my reason for visiting?"

"Yeah, she did," Wendell assured him. "As she told you, man, we haven't seen your ride in the shop and we'll definitely be in touch if the Regera comes through here. Somethingone of a kind like that, it'll stand out around here."

"Yes, that would be why I made the visit myself. Do me a favour and ask around your circles, Riley? I want that car back," Soloman said coldly.

Riley's heart pounded against her ribcage. She knew she wasn't imagining the way he paused before he said her name. Why did it feel as though he was toying with Wendell? Fuck, did he know the woman he spoke with in the early morning hours was Riley herself? If he did, then he'd found out way faster than she thought possible. Meaning his reach went even deeper than she had previously expected. No, she needed to believe he had no idea. That he didn't care enough to find out.

"Of course," Wendell reassured him, watching Riley's face with a frown.

"I want something else," Soloman continued, his voice taking on a definite edge. "The name of that woman mechanic I met last night. She refused to give me one when asked."

Riley's eyes flew to Wendell's. He put a reassuring hand on her arm and gave Soloman the name that they'd talked about before the call. "Her name's Katie Pullman," he said with a forced chuckle. "Not sure why she refused to say. She's usually a pretty big flirt. We have trouble keeping her away from the clients. You must've spooked her."

Riley held her breath while they waited for Soloman's response. They'd given him Wendell's sisters name. A quick check using resources that he undoubtedly had access to would quickly uncover the lie. Luckily, Katie was travelling for work and would never know her name was used in vain. Though she was a giant flirt and did tend to cause havoc in the shop when she deigned to saunter through with her mini skirts and lacquered nails. She also happened to be Riley's best friend.

Riley hoped that telling Soloman the woman he met was a flirt would put him off wanting anything more to do with her. Perhaps it was a mild attraction and he would lose interest and move on to greener pastures if he thought she was easy. Dude looked like he enjoyed a challenge. She crossed her fingers and prayed he was already moving on.

"Must've," he finally agreed, after a moment of thought. "I appreciate your help with my problem, Riley. Let me know what you hear."

"Will do," Wendell agreed and hung up.

Riley sighed in relief and leaned back against the window of her office, closing her eyes. "Thank god that's done. Hopefully that's the last we hear from him."

Wendell put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it affectionately. She looked up at him and into two very concerned blue eyes. "Time to think of a plan, Riles. Because that man didn't believe a word I said."

* * *

Soloman leaned back in his chair and placed his phone carefully on the desk. He cracked his knuckles and turned to look out across the landscaped yard. He should have been extremely angry, but satisfaction was the only emotion he could conjure. Riley Bancroft just made a very big mistake in lying to him. By playing dirty with him she was giving him the opening he needed to take what he wanted.

For now, he would play her games. Give her a chance to get to know him better and come to him willingly. Eventually, she would give him what he wanted. If she continued to resist him, then he would crush her games and burn her world until she had no more choices. He hadn't become one of the most feared men in the city for no reason. She would learn.

He looked down at the file his information guy had put together two hours after Roman had contacted him. It contained everything he needed on Riley Bancroft. He didn't need to open it to remember the contents. He did pull the pictures out. One was her driver's license and the other was her passport. Both resembled her, but neither did justice to the gorgeous, vibrant creature he'd encountered in the garage.

He looked down at the pictures and then closed his eyes, conjuring her image and the vanilla scent combined with motor oil that he'd smelled on her when he'd stepped up to her. He'd been nearly overwhelmed by the urge to take a fistful of her ponytail, jerk her into his chest and take those plush lips in a hard kiss. Fuck, they were so plump, they begged to be crushed beneath his own thinner, harder lips. She had the type of mouth that made men everywhere picture a dick sliding between the red, lush pillowy softness and into the moist depths of her mouth. It made him want to put his fist through a wall, or a dude's face, and lock her up where no one could see her.

Soon. He would bring her home and show her who she belonged to. For now, he would play the wooing game and lure her into his trap.

Though he'd memorized the words, he flipped open the file anyway. Glancing down at her information, he reread each word in an attempt to soothe the impatient beast rearing up inside him with the need to go find Riley Bancroft. First, he would spank her for lying to him, then fuck her into submission.

She was thirty years old. The only child of Cilia and Alan Bancroft. Alan Bancroft had passed away two years earlier from a sudden heart attack, leaving his extremely lucrative repair and detail shop to his daughter, Riley Anne Bancroft. Further digging had revealed that the garage was also a chop shop. A fact Soloman had, of course, already known.

The dating and medical information had caused Soloman's blood to boil, forcing him to examine closely what exactly it was he wanted with this girl he had spent barely five minutes with. She was on birth control and went to the clinic for regular blood testing, and yearly pelvic exams, which suggested she was sexually active. The information guy had also dug up a dating profile. Though there seemed to be no one serious in the picture, she dated semi-frequently and had a thing for clean-cut jocks. That was about to change.

The mother, Cilia Bancroft, was a high-functioning autistic that lived on her own and had a gambling problem. She worked as an accountant to the rich and was currently blacklisted from every casino and poker game in town thanks to her grown up daughter. Very interesting. This piece of information would come in very handy considering he owned several of the places Cilia was currently not allowed to step foot in. Perhaps it was time to make Mrs. Bancroft's acquaintance.