Chapter 57 The Badge and A Gigolo
"What?!” Elena hissed, moving away from him. "We had a deal!”
"And you're 36 hours late.”
"I wasn't in town!”
"I don't care, Elena!” Francis snapped loudly and she shrank back at his tone.
He didn't even look at the cash twice, he just swiped the envelope off the table and shoved it into the inner pocket of his leather jacket.
Then he leaned back in the booth, a slow, greasy smile spreading across his face.
"Okay, I'm sorry I came late. But I have it right here," Elena said, her voice barely a whisper. "You have the money. Now delete it. Delete it right now."
Francis didn't move. He picked up his whiskey glass and took a slow sip, his eyes never leaving hers. "You know, Elena, I’ve been thinking. This money is great. It really is. It covers the trouble I went through to track you down. But things are different now. You’re not the same girl you were a few months ago.”
Elena stood there, shaking her head. "How could she have been dumb enough to think he'd respect whatever stupid deal he brought up.
“You’re the wife of Julian Thorne. That makes you worth a lot more than a few thousand dollars in a paper envelope."
Elena felt a cold chill run down her spine. "We had a deal, Francis. I gave you exactly what you asked for. Delete the files."
"The deal changed," Francis said with a shrug. "That money? Think of that as interest. A down payment for me to keep silent. But I’m not deleting anything today. In fact, I think we need to go somewhere else. Somewhere we can talk about a more permanent arrangement. My car is right outside. Get up."
"No," Elena said, backing away from the booth. "I'm not going anywhere with you. I gave you the money. We're done."
Francis stood up. He was faster than he looked as he reached out and grabbed her upper arm, his fingers digging into her skin through the fabric of her hoodie.
"You don't get to say when we're done. You want that video to stay private? Then you’re going to do exactly what I say. Now, move your feet before I decide to upload the first thirty seconds of that clip to every contact in your phone right here in the middle of this bar."
Elena looked around the room. The bartender was busy at the other end, and the few old men drinking at the bar weren't paying any attention.
Silas was still sitting at the bar, his back turned to them.
She felt a wave of total hopelessness.
She had no money left. Her father had disowned her. Julian was a stranger who was probably hunting her down right now. If she made a scene, the police would come, her identity would be out, and the scandal would break anyway. Who would be there to even bail her out or help set things straight?
"Please," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "Just let me go, Francis. I have nothing left to give you."
"You have plenty to give," he hissed, pulling her toward the door. "Now, let's go."
Elena felt her legs go weak. She almost fell, but he held her up, dragging her toward the exit.
She felt like she was walking toward her own execution as they pushed through the heavy wooden door and out onto the sidewalk.
Francis led her toward a silver sedan parked at the curb. He pulled out his keys and unlocked the doors.
"Get in the car, Elena," he commanded, opening the passenger door.
Elena looked at the dark interior of the car. She knew that if she got in, she might never come out.
She looked up and down the street, hoping for a miracle. Francis reached for her waist to shove her inside.
Suddenly, a hand slammed against the car door, shutting it with a loud bang that made her jump.
"The lady said she isn't going anywhere," a voice said.
Francis spun around, hissing. "You again? I told you to stay out of this, you piece of junk. Get your hand off my car before I break it."
It was Silas.
He was standing there, his face completely calm. He wasn't looking at Francis with a bored look.
"I don't think you're in a position to break anything, Francis Gilbert," Silas said.
Elena froze. "How do you know his name?”
"Get lost!" Francis yelled. He reached into his jacket, maybe for the money or maybe for a weapon, but he never got the chance.
In one smooth motion, Silas reached into the back of his jeans and pulled out a leather wallet.
He flipped it open and showed him the badge.
"Detective Silas Kane, Chicago PD," Silas said. "Put your hands on the roof of the car. Now."
Elena gasped, her hands going to her mouth. A detective? Silas is a cop?
Francis froze. His eyes went wide, and the color drained from his face until he looked like a sheet of paper.
"A cop? No. No way. You’re just some guy from school. Elena said—"
"I was a guy from school," Silas said, reaching for the handcuffs at his belt. "But for the last six months, I’ve been a guy following you. You’ve been a very busy man, Francis. Blackmailing a rich widow on the North Side for two hundred thousand? That was too much money and you got sloppy."
Francis tried to turn and run, but Silas was faster.
He grabbed Francis by the collar, spun him around, and slammed him face-first against the side of the car.
The sound of the handcuffs clicking shut was the most beautiful thing Elena had ever heard.
"You have the right to remain silent," Silas said, pushing Francis’s head down. "Anything you say can and will be used against you. You know the drill."
"Elena! Tell him!" Francis screamed, his face pressed against the glass of the window. "Tell him we're friends! Tell him you gave me that money as a gift!"
Elena stood there, watching him struggle. She felt a surge of relief so strong she almost fainted.
She looked at Silas, who was finishing the arrest.
"Are you okay, Elena?" he asked.
"I... I didn't know," she whispered. "I had no idea you were a cop."
"I’ve been undercover on this blackmail case for a long time," Silas explained and pulled the envelope of cash out of Francis’s jacket and held it up. "I saw him follow you into the bar. I didn't even know it was you until I saw your face at the bar. I was there for him, but finding you was a surprise."
Silas turned back to Francis. "We have your laptop, Francis and we have the servers you were using. Your little 'business' is over."
"You can't prove anything!" Francis yelled, but Silas just ignored him. He pulled a radio from his pocket and called for a transport unit.
Within minutes, two police cruisers pulled up to the curb and two officers got out and took Francis from Silas.
They pushed him into the back of a cruiser, and Elena watched as her nightmare was driven away.
Silas walked back to Elena. He still had the envelope of cash in his hand. He looked at it, then at her.
"This is a lot of money, Elena," Silas said. "And I know you. I know you’re the daughter of Marcus Vance and the wife of Julian Thorne. What is a girl like you doing in a place like this, handing over thousands of dollars to a bottom-feeder like Francis?"
Elena looked at the badge on Silas’s belt, then at his face.
She realized that she was still in trouble. Silas was a cop, and that meant he had to follow the law. If he found out about the stolen files or the fact that she was running from Julian, he might have to report it.
"He was blackmailing me, Silas," she said, her voice shaking. "He had... he had a video. From years ago. He told me he would destroy me if I didn't pay."
Silas sighed and handed the envelope back to her. "I figured as much. Look, I have to take a statement from you eventually, but not today. You look like you're about to fall over. Where are you staying?"
"I... I can't say," Elena said.
Silas looked at her for a long time. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. He scribbled a number on the back. "That's my personal cell. Not the station. If you're in trouble, you call me. I don't care if you're a billionaire or whatever. I remember the girl from college who used to share her sandwiches with me because I was too broke to eat. I owe you one."
Elena took the card, her fingers brushing his. "Thank you, Silas. Truly."
"Get out of here, Elena," Silas said, nodding toward the end of the block. "Before the reporters show up. Go."
Elena didn't wait. She turned and ran. She didn't look back until she was three blocks away.