“Not much, thank god.”
“And your mother?”
“She was a mess. She’d never worked a day in her life, and it turned out that my brilliant father had borrowed against his life insurance so that we were left with absolutely nothing except a bunch of debt and a shit-ton of medical bills.”
“The articles hinted that your mom had a trust fund, and that helped keep you guys afloat.” I looked at his face. “Oh, crap. You made that part up, too.”
“He didn’t leave us shit, but I needed a story. I didn’t want people looking too hard at what I was doing.”
“So what were you doing?” I asked, though I was pretty sure I could guess. Maybe not the specifics, but enough to know he wasn’t working minimum wage in fast food.
“My sister pretty much lived in the hospital, and my mom fell into an alcoholic haze. I was fifteen, and I’d been your typical, spoiled, rich kid asshole. I had too much money, bought alcohol illegally, and smoked pot behind the school with my friends. I could either stay a disconnected asshole or I could get my shit together and become the man of the family. I chose the second.”
“But most fifteen-year-olds work at McDonalds. And that wasn’t going to pay the bills.”
“No,” he said. “It wasn’t.”
“And since the universe doesn’t play fair,” I began, remembering what he’d told me.
“I didn’t have to play fair, either.”
“Go on.” I scooted closer to him and rested my palm gently on his leg. “I want to know how you survived.”
“Need and adrenaline,” he said, then grinned. “And every time I did something dangerous and came out okay on the other side, I felt like I’d put one over on the universe and was that much stronger for it. I started taking chances to get a thrill and to get money. I did everything imaginable. Jacking cars, dealing drugs. Hell, I even got a bit of a reputation as a cat burglar—not that anyone ever found out it was me doing the sneaking around.”
“It didn’t scare you?”
“Just the opposite.” His grin was boyish. “I like the rush, too.”
He told me more and more. About how high school turned out to be the best possible place, because he could research anything and everything and taught himself how to boost cars and disable alarm systems. He even dabbled in counterfeiting. And all the while he was keeping detailed records, figuring out which endeavors brought in the most money so that he could most efficiently take care of his mom and sister.
“I screwed up senior year, though. I got hooked up with the wrong crowd—folks who weren’t nearly as careful as I was.”
“Did you get arrested?”
“And convicted.”
“Really?” I grabbed a pillow and hugged it to my chest. Heart was pounding against my rib cage in memory of my own arrest, and I couldn’t believe he was talking so calmly about a conviction. “You weren’t scared to death?”
“It wasn’t a pleasure ride if that’s what you mean. But it did change my life.”
He had ended up in a juvenile pilot program and was shipped off to a scared straight camp where he met Cole and Tyler. “The lessons of the camp didn’t really stick,” he said. “But the friendship did.”
“In other words, three of the most upstanding businessmen in Chicago aren’t that upstanding, after all.”
“I’d say that was accurate,” he acknowledged with a grin. “Not as much for me anymore. I’ve been selling off my share of our more shady enterprises to Cole and Tyler. And I’ve been legitimizing my own operations. To be honest, I’ve reached the point where I get just as much of a rush from negotiating a hard bargain with a competitor as I do from stealing his assets when he’s not looking. Maybe more.”
“Why?”
“Why is there a rush?”
“Why are you going straight?”
“You met her,” he said. “Ivy.”
I nodded, but I still didn’t understand. “Why now?”
“Because my mother died. When she was alive, I knew that Ivy would always have family. But now that she’s gone, I want to guarantee that I’m not going to be serving time in a minimum security cell when she needs me.”
“But even if you get clean, they can still arrest you.”
He laughed. “Thanks for the reality check.”
I cringed. “Sorry. It’s just that I remember what it was like when they put me in that cell. And the idea of having you arrested—freaks me out.”
He reached for my hand. “It freaks me out, too. That’s the point. That’s why I want out.”
“Evan—” His name felt delicious. The world felt delicious. And, yeah, I was still a little bit scared for him, but so long as he was really getting out …
“What are you thinking?” he asked, and I realized my brow was furrowed.
“Just that if you’re getting out, then you probably are safe. I mean, if everything you’ve done was white collar, they probably don’t care about stuff that’s old news, right? And eventually the statute of limitations will run out. Won’t it? I mean that’s all we’re talking about, right? White collar stuff?”
He nodded.
“So what do you do? Or, I guess I should ask, what did you do?”
“We started out with petty stuff, but we expanded into everything from smuggling to money laundering to backroom gambling. No drugs—that’s our line in the sand. And, once we hooked up with your uncle, we went a bit more high class. He introduced us to the world of art. Including the underworld of art.”