Veronica Ruiz Breaks the Bank, page 1
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To my readers, because you asked.
Chapter 1
Any idiot can spot a window of opportunity, but it takes a unique brand of idiot to fall through one. And Veronica Ramirez was feeling pretty damn exceptional as she gave this particular window one final shove. The wooden frame flew open, the force of it nearly sending her tumbling back over the side of the trash can she’d been balancing on. The lid rattled under her as she worked her backpack free of her shoulders and tossed it inside. She winced as she heard it land on the floor with a crunch. Everything valuable she had left in the world had been stuffed inside that backpack, but the only thing inside it she still cared about had already been broken beyond repair, and there was no use thinking about that now.
Story of my life, she thought as she dangled there. Nowhere to go but down. It was like fate had bent her over its knee for yet another slap, just to rub in the absurdity of her circumstances.
She wriggled forward, shrieking as gravity took hold and the rest of her tumbled through the opening, landing beside her backpack on the cold concrete floor with a bone-jarring thud.
Vero held her breath, listening to a dog barking in the distance and the faint hum of cars on the road outside, relieved when she didn’t hear sirens … or worse. Apparently, this wasn’t the kind of neighborhood that was quick to call the cops.
She stiffened at a soft click, like a door being eased shut somewhere inside the building. She could have sworn she heard a pair of soft-soled shoes moving through the garage. A chill rolled up her spine as a smell caught the back of her throat, the sour tang of sweat. Shadows began to form into recognizable shapes: a dismantled engine, a car on a lift, the dark silhouette of a male figure coming closer …
Vero reached behind her, then up, groping the surface of her cousin’s workbench. Her fingers closed around a screwdriver. She gasped as the lights snapped on, all of them at once.
She shielded her eyes, blinking against the glare, screwdriver poised to strike. Her cousin Ramón was standing over her, a baseball bat clutched in his hands. “Jesus, Veronica!” He lowered the bat and put a hand to his chest. “You scared me half to death!”
“Me? You’re the one with the baseball bat!” She fell back on her hands, dropping the screwdriver, her heart still jackhammering.
“You couldn’t have knocked on the door?”
“I didn’t think you’d be here,” she admitted, accepting the hand he offered and letting him pull her upright. She dusted off her behind, wincing at an ache in her thigh. “It’s the middle of the night,” she pointed out. “You should be home sleeping.”
“Tell that to the IRS. My quarterly taxes are late and I’m meeting with my accountant tomorrow.” Ramón tossed the bat onto the workbench behind her. She shuddered at the clatter that echoed off the walls. He scrubbed a hand over his face. His jawline was patchy where he hadn’t bothered to shave, except for the stubborn spots on either side of his chin, the ones he’d always hated because they refused to fill in. There was a heaviness in Ramón’s brow, a weight to the new worry lines she saw there. Ramón wasn’t yet twenty-five, only three and a half years older than Vero—a fact he lorded over her at every opportunity—but she hated how much older he seemed now. Only a few months had passed since she’d last seen her cousin, but he looked like he’d lived an entire lifetime since she’d returned to college eight weeks ago, at the end of her summer break.
“Why aren’t you at school?” he asked, rubbing his eyes, as if he already knew the answer would cost him some sleep.
She slung her backpack onto her shoulders and squared them. This was it, the moment of truth.
She could do this, she reminded herself. She’d practiced it in her car before coming here. After she’d snuck out of her bedroom window in her sorority house, she had turned off the music in her beat-up Civic and dragged down her rearview mirror, catching her reflection in it, holding it. The eyes in the mirror had been the same shape and shade as her cousin’s, warm and smart and sincere. Ramón would understand, she told herself as she’d rehearsed the words, over and over. I’m not going back to school. I know it’s my senior year and I’ve got only one and a half semesters left until graduation. I know I’m walking away from my full ride, my honors diploma, and my accounting degree. I know I’m abandoning everything I’ve worked for, but I’m a grown-ass adult and this is my choice.
Vero had practiced those words more times than she could count, the entire forty-five-minute drive from the University of Maryland campus to the bustling Virginia suburb of Herndon where her cousin now lived. She knew she couldn’t hide from her problems in her cousin’s garage forever. Or maybe she could, if she just happened not to mention to him that a warrant had probably been issued for her arrest.
“I am here…” She steeled herself, taking a deep breath as she looked at her cousin and said, “Because it’s midsemester break.”
Ramón frowned at her. Of the two of them, he was definitely the brighter. Sharp enough to take on his own towing and salvage business before he’d turned twenty-five. Growing up, Vero had believed her older cousin could solve anything. Even now, she knew without a doubt Ramón could repair any problem that got hauled into this garage, but she was certain he couldn’t fix this one. She hadn’t come here to drag him into her drama. All she wanted was a place to lie low for a while.
“What’s his name?” Ramón asked.
“Who?”
“The guy you’re hiding from.” His gaze dropped to her midsection. “Whose ass do I need to kick?”
She took a greasy rag from his workbench and threw it at him. “I’m not pregnant, you idiot!”
“You’re not on break either, so what are you really doing here, Veronica? And don’t tell me you missed me, because if you’d wanted to see me you would have come to my apartment at a reasonable hour instead of hiding in my shop. What kind of trouble are you in?”
“I’m not in trouble. I just needed some space.”
“From who?”
“My sorority sisters were driving me nuts.” The words seemed to come easier the closer she veered to the truth. “I needed to get away for a few days to think, and I didn’t want to bother you.”
“Your mom’s house is fifteen minutes from school. Why didn’t you just go there?”
Vero glared up at him, hands on her hips, her rumpled ponytail swinging over her shoulder as she cocked her head. “Because my mom would be all nosy and up in my business, and if I felt like blabbing to everyone about my personal problems, I’d sign up to be on a damn episode of Dr. Phil. So can I sleep on your stupid couch in your office, or do I have to go break into that crappy motel down the street?”
Ramón held up his hands, resigning himself to her stubborn streak, or maybe just the hour. “Fine, you can stay, but you’re not sleeping in my office. Wait here. I have to make a phone call before I lock up.” He shook his head, scrolling through the contacts on his phone as he walked away and left her standing in his garage.
She ran her hand along the underside of a car suspended on a lift. A rolling cart of tools had already been staged beside it, their thoughtful placement revealing both the nature of the problem and the necessary steps to repair it. Squeaky brakes? Replace your rotors or pads. Bumpy suspension? Check your shocks and your springs. Wobbly steering? Balance your tires.
Assess the situation, identify the problem, then figure out how to fix it. Easy.
But what did you do when your sorority sisters were convinced you’d stolen thousands of dollars from an envelope you were supposed to be safeguarding? When, even after you’d sworn you hadn’t, they’d turned their backs on you and reported you to both their parents and the cops? As chapter treasurer, Vero had been an easy target to frame, but it hurt that a house full of business majors who were supposed to be her friends had been so quick to believe she could actually be guilty of the crime.
Vero chewed on her lip, praying Ramón wasn’t calling her mom.
She tried to eavesdrop as she waited for her cousin, but he’d closed his office door and kept his voice too low for her to hear. All she managed to catch were a few words of an apology—that it was only for a few days because his cousin needed a place to stay. There had been a few murmured instructions involving a spare key before he disconnected.
She bristled a little at his burdened tone, her irritation at her cousin warring with her guilt. She hadn’t known her cousin was seeing someone. She hadn’t intended to show up and upend his living arrangements. And now whoever was sleeping in his apartment was being displaced in the middle of the night because Vero had somehow screwed up her life, and it hadn’t even been her fault.
Now that she really thought about it, Vero couldn’t remember the last time Ramón had been involved with someone. At least, no one serious enough to stay overnight in his apartment while he’d been stuck at work. That level of trust implied more than a casual fling, and it needled Vero that Ramón hadn’t shared this piece of his life with her. But also that she was withholding so much more from him.
Until now, there had never been a secret Vero hadn’t confided in her cousin. Probably because until now, she had never had a reason to feel ashamed.
“Ready to go?” He wedged a file folder under his arm as he locked the door to his office behind him.
Vero set down the socket wrench she’d been absently fiddling with. “You didn’t have to kick your girlfriend out of your apartment. I could have slept here.”
“No, you couldn’t.” He shoved her gently through the door to the lot where his tow truck was parked, bolting both locks with a pointed look at her. Going to school with Ramón and Javi had been like growing up with two overprotective big brothers. Which was both endearing and annoying; she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.
“I could have killed you with a screwdriver back there,” she reminded him. Ramón rolled his eyes, not even bothering with a comeback. The Ramón she’d known before he’d opened his own shop would have gloated, asking if she would have demonstrated these kick-ass moves before or after he’d beaten her within an inch of her life with the baseball bat before realizing who she was. This Ramón only sighed, checking to make sure the file of tax forms and receipts under his arm was secure as he walked her to her car. “Look,” Vero said, “if you’re worried about me telling your mom that you’re living with someone and your apartment has become a hotbed of sin, you can relax. I have no plans to tell Aunt Gloria about any of this … You don’t either, right?” Vero hesitated beside her car as he held the door open for her. She really, really didn’t want to have to explain to her mother (who would inevitably hear the news from her aunt) that she had dropped out of school. Or worse, why.
“We’ll discuss it tomorrow. All of it,” he added. He reminded her to stay close behind him before shutting her inside her Honda then waiting to make sure she locked her doors before getting into his truck. His headlights flared on, blazing a clear path ahead of them, and she followed him home like a damn lost puppy. Tomorrow, he’d expect her to tell him the truth. He’d listen to the rattle in her voice and try to diagnose the problem.
But this wasn’t a problem her cousin could fix. This wasn’t a problem anyone could solve. Not even Vero. All she could do was throw in the towel and start her life over. And tomorrow, that’s exactly what she would do.
Chapter 2
Vero roused first to the sound, then to the smell of coffee brewing. Her right hand smacked into one arm of her cousin’s sofa as she stretched. Her left foot kicked the other arm, and her back and shoulder ached as she opened her eyes. A quick glance at the clock on the microwave in the kitchen told her she’d slept only six hours, yet somehow she felt more rested than she could remember feeling in a long time. Her bed in her sorority house had been comfy enough, but sleep hadn’t come easily these last few weeks since the treasury money had gone missing from the zippered bank deposit bag she’d kept in her bedroom. She’d spent most of her days since looking over her shoulder while trying to ignore the nasty notes slipped under her bedroom door.
She peeked out from under the thick knitted blanket she’d found lying on the back of the couch last night, a pattern she’d recognized immediately as her Aunt Gloria’s handiwork. The apartment wasn’t so bad for a bachelor pad, she thought to herself. Sunlight poured through the uneven slats of a set of plastic blinds, revealing the dull gray carpeting and imperfections in the aged linoleum in the kitchen across the hall. It was tidy, if she wasn’t being too critical. The walls needed a few passes with a Magic Eraser and the baseboards could use some dusting, but the kitchen looked swept and there were a few vacuum tracks still visible in the carpet. Ramón wasn’t a total heathen—Aunt Gloria never would have allowed it. Still, there were no throw pillows, area rugs, or cute lamps to liven up the place. Not a single potted plant or even a poster to speak of. The walls were as bland and bare as she imagined they’d probably been the day he’d moved in three years ago. A distinct aura of bruh hovered over everything, and she guessed whatever woman had been sleeping over lately hadn’t been a fixture here for very long.
The coffee pot gurgled and sputtered in the next room.
Vero threw off her blanket in search of caffeine, padding to the kitchen wearing the same sleep-rumpled T-shirt and yoga pants she’d shown up in last night.
A sticky note had been stuck to the counter: Gone to work. I’ll bring something home for dinner. See you at 6. Be ready to talk.
That was not a conversation she was looking forward to.
She opened the fridge, then the pantry, frowning at the breakfast options. Judging by the contents of her cousin’s cabinets, he’d been spending far more time at work than at home.
She poured a mug of coffee for herself and carried it to the small dinette by the window. The file Ramón had brought home from the garage lay in the middle of the table, probably forgotten in his rush to get to work. She opened it, not bothering to feel guilty for nosing around in his business. After all, he would be all up in hers later on.
She shuffled through a stack of his receipts, skimming his Schedule Cs and profit and loss forms as she sipped. Her nails mindlessly tapped the tabletop, running over the keys of an imaginary calculator as she did a little math in her head. No wonder Ramón had been stressed. Her cousin was good at a lot of things, but accounting clearly wasn’t one of them.
She searched his kitchen drawers for a pen and opened the calculator on her phone, sorting through his expenses and deposits one by one, losing herself in the tidy, neatly compartmentalized boxes—in the assurance of knowing exactly what numbers to put where. By the time she finally looked up at the clock, three hours had passed, her cousin’s tax forms were done, and a dribble of tepid coffee was all that remained in the pot.
Vero’s stomach grumbled. She opened her backpack, looking for her wallet, careful of the broken glass that had collected at the bottom after she’d tossed her bag through Ramón’s window last night. She counted her cash—$325 wasn’t much, but it was enough for breakfast and a fresh start.
She showered and changed, smoothing the wrinkles from a pair of slacks and a blouse she’d fished from a bag in the back seat of her car. Then she brushed her hair back into a sleek dark ponytail, meticulously applied a conservative shade of lipstick, and dusted on some neutral eyeshadow. She frowned down at the chipped purple polish on her toenails, which were long overdue for a pedicure. No matter. She would have plenty of time (and money) for that after she found a job.
She slipped her feet into a pair of sensible closed-toe flats and grabbed her keys. Veronica Ramirez may have cashed out her bank account and run from the law, but Vero Ruiz was about to make a deposit on a brand-new life.
* * *
Vero waited for the manager inside the small local bank with the NOW HIRING sign in the front window. This was it, the window of opportunity she’d been looking for—a career in her chosen field. A foot in the door. She may not have a degree, but she was built for this. She could start small as a teller, work her way up the ladder. Become a wealth advisor or a portfolio manager. She could already see the title on her nameplate: VERO RUIZ—INVESTMENT BANKER.
