Immediately after my call with my father, I email Emily the files I’ve promised her and then dial my contact at the fashion brand we’ve acquired. In a matter of minutes, I’ve conferenced in Emily, and not long afterward, I hand the communication and the reins over to her. I’ve barely ended the call when Jessica buzzes in. “A Jordan Miller is on the line,” she says. “He claims to be your father’s attorney.”
“Eager aren’t you, Father?” I murmur to myself before responding to Jessica. “Put him through.”
An hour later I’ve disconnected the call after a verbal brawl, and there is no question that only one day after my father buried his son, he’s back to his manipulative ways. My mind gravitates to my mother, who was a wreck yesterday and is now alone, perhaps seeking comfort she won’t find with my father. And the last thing I need right now, or ever, is her gravitating back to Mike Rogers when Mike is about to be in bed with Adrian Martina.
I reach for my phone and dial my mother, only to have the call go straight to voice mail. I bypass the message and dial Seth. “Where’s my mother right now?”
“I’m at Jessica’s desk,” he says.
“Come in,” I say, standing up and pressing my hands to my desk, waiting for his entry and answer.
“She’s not with Mike Rogers, if that’s what you think,” he says, stepping into my office and shutting the door. “She hasn’t left the house since last night.” He crosses to stand in front of my desk. “Is there a new concern about Mike I need to be aware of?”
I push off my desk, shoving my jacket aside to rest my hands on my hips. “My father assures me there isn’t, but as I near this deal that pairs Mike with Martina, I’m thinking through anything that could go wrong. And as sure as I free us from Martina, my mother could reconnect us.”
“It’s a reasonable concern,” Seth says, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I’ll make sure she’s terrified to go near Mike. Just say the word.”
“Your way of fixing things should not involve my mother,” I say. “I’ll handle it.”
“All right,” he concedes. “Does this mean we’re delaying any part of the process with Mike and Martina?”
“No,” I say. “It needs to happen and happen now, and I can’t talk to her before the deal is done and risk an emotional reaction. I need my mother intercepted if she goes anywhere near Mike from this point forward.”
There’s a knock on the door. “It’s Emily,” Jessica says over the intercom.
I glance at Seth. “She’s going to want an update. Is there anything I need to know and prepare her for?”
“Nothing,” he assures me, and I immediately instruct Jessica, “Tell her to come in.”
The door opens almost instantly, and Emily is inside, shutting it and leaning against it. “Is there news?” She looks to Seth. “Is that why you’re here?”
“I work here,” Seth reminds her. “And everything is as expected. Law enforcement is looking for your brother and stepfather, but the passports placing them out of the country have rendered them low priority, aside from notifying next of kin. We’ll give it a few days and then have one of our staff reach out to them as your brother and stepfather.”
“Wait a few days,” Emily repeats. “Meaning you want to ensure my brother doesn’t show up dead.”
It’s not a question, and Seth doesn’t sugarcoat his confirmation. “Your brother, and/or your stepfather,” Seth replies. “But don’t hold your breath waiting for your brother to show up. If he’s alive, and smart, he won’t take that risk.”
“And we’re stuck with the unknown,” she says.
“But you’re dead to anyone who might come after you,” he says. “That’s the end game here.” He glances at his watch. “I have a meeting. One final note. Don’t Google your hometown or anything to do with your old identity. We’re dealing with hackers who can track things in ways you and I can’t fathom.” He doesn’t wait for our confirmation. “I’ll keep you updated.” He heads for the door and the intercom buzzes. “There’s a Becky Newman on the line for Emily.”
Emily eyes light up. “Tell her I’ll be right there,” she says, the worry of moments before banked, at least for now. “She’s done work for Louis Vuitton, Shane. I really want her for our team.” She turns and follows Seth out of the office, shutting the door behind her. She’s distracted now, and that’s her sanity. The end game will be mine. I pick up the phone and dial Mike, ready to get that announcement underway.
* * *
By late afternoon it’s done. Mike not only owns the pharmaceutical branch, the news has gone wide, and questions and random challenges erupt. Ultimately, though, the storm passes internally, and the media is far more interested in Mike’s status as the owner of a pharmaceutical company and professional basketball team than they are in us. By nine P.M., I’m confident that we’ve assured tomorrow will be calmer, and I send Jessica home.
Ready to get Emily out of here and home as well, I head for the open door of her office, where I find her standing at the floor-to-ceiling windows framing the room, her back to me. Her floral scent teases my nostrils, mingling with the lingering, barely there spice of my brother’s cologne, which proves to be a bittersweet mix of past and present, lost and found. Much like what Emily must feel about a past she’s leaving behind for a future she didn’t choose but now embraces. Understanding this all too well, I close the space between us, stepping to her side, but I do not speak, nor does she.
For a full minute we both just stand there, staring at the skyline, lights dotting the inky Colorado night, quiet surrounding us, but I can almost hear her thinking, even before she explodes, facing me. “It’s really hard loving and hating him this much.”
“Believe me, sweetheart,” I say, leaning on the edge of the desk. “I get it.”
“I was sad and scared this morning, but now … now I’m angry. I want him to be alive just so I can throttle him and scream at him. And I don’t know what else. I get that we’re convincing the world I’m dead and this is our new beginning, but if we don’t find him, I’m not going to be grieving him, Shane. I’m going to still feel like that hammer is waiting to fall, with him holding it. You have to feel the same.”
“I do,” I admit, “but what we’re doing right now makes me feel a hell of a lot more secure than I did previously.” I snag her hips and walk her to me. “We may never find him, which means we are both going to have to set a deadline to shut this off and mentally declare him dead.”
“You’re a control freak, Shane. How can you accept this as our solution?”
“By finding a way to control what I can’t control. In your brother’s case, by paying and trusting the right people, like Seth and his team, to know when, and if, your brother surfaces again. And in your case, I’ll buy expensive wine and fill your glass as often as needed until you stop thinking so much.” I push off the desk. “Grab your purse. There’s a wine bar by the apartment that I’ve been wanting to show you. We’re going to drink too much while talking about your new fashion label.”
“Sold,” she says. “I can grab my purse on the way out. It’s at my old desk outside your father’s office.”
“I’ll grab my briefcase and meet you in the lobby,” I say, heading back to my office, where I quickly gather my things, and I’m just about to head for the door when Seth calls, and I can almost feel the tension slide down my spine.
“Just a heads-up,” he says when I answer. “Your mother’s at home, having dinner with a female friend.”
Reading between the lines, I ask, “And my father?”
“With his mistress, in your building.”
“Of course he is,” I say. “In fact, some might say he’s celebrating the death of his son by being a bigger prick than ever.” I don’t wait on the reply I don’t want and that Seth won’t offer. “Tell Cody we’re on our way to the garage.”
“Done.”
I grab my briefcase and cross the room, turning out the light, and without a conscious decision to do so, I end up in the doorway of Derek’s—Emily’s—now dark office. I step inside, and without bothering to turn on the light, I walk to the desk, open the top left drawer, and my hand goes to the black king chess piece inside. A souvenir Derek had claimed after beating my father for the first, and only, time, at age sixteen. It could have been the moment he rose above my father. Instead I believe it became the moment my father decided he would never let Derek win again.
I pocket the chess piece and walk back to the door, pausing before I exit. “You won,” I say, as if he can hear me. “He’s going to hell, but you aren’t there waiting for him.”
I exit the office and pull the door shut, walking down the hallway to find Emily waiting for me in the lobby. “Ready?” I ask.
“I am,” she says, holding up a black box I know all too well. “This was on my desk with a card that has your name on it.”
I take the box and open the card to read the one word inside: Checkmate.
“What is it?” Emily asks, indicating the box.
“An aged bottle of Macallan ‘M’ Lalique with a collector’s decanter,” I say. “Worth at least ten grand. My father’s trademark way of celebrating a five-million-dollar deal, and his way of telling me that I sold him the hedge fund operation right before he closed one of those deals. In other words, he doesn’t have to share the profits.”
“Do you care?”
“Not in the slightest, but I’ll be happy to take the whiskey.” We exit the lobby to the corridor outside the elevators and I punch the elevator button. “We’ll drink it to celebrate that he, and his dirty money, have left the company.” I pull Emily close and lower my lips to her ear. “When the only thing dirty left around here is you and me when no one is looking.”
* * *
An hour later we’re sitting at a table in the dimly lit wine bar, laughing as we debate the merits of a neon red “power” clothing line. “Maybe for the Fourth of July,” I joke.
“Tommy Hilfiger does the red, white, and blue as a trademark,” she says, and laughs, sipping her wine. “We could do a neon version.” She sets her glass down. “And we’re joking now, but Jessica made it look good. She owns it.”
“My father called her a bitch today.”
“Well, she kind of is,” Emily says. “But I love her kind of bitch.” Her eyes light up. “Maybe we could have a clothing line called ‘Bitch.’”
“That would get some attention.”
“Exactly,” she says. “It would be trending on social media, and even if we could only sell it online, it would get our brand attention.”
“I like it,” he says. “You just have to decide what statement the ‘Bitch’ line makes.”
“I think it’s Jessica’s line. It’s about her sass.” She sips her wine and studies me a moment. “You know. I was thinking of your mother as inspiration for a ‘Maggie’ line as well. She’s elegant and professional. We might even use her in some ad campaigns.”
“Just be cautious,” I say. “Keep her, and my father, out of the business side of things.”
“Of course,” she says. “And since we’re talking about Maggie. Have you talked to her today? I called to check on her, but she didn’t answer or call me back.”
“I tried to call her too,” I say. “And got the same, but Seth tells me she has a friend over tonight.”
“Hmmmm,” she says. “Maybe she’s too emotional to talk. Sometimes people just need alone time.”
“And yet she’s with a friend,” I remind her, grabbing a bottle of wine from an ice bucket sitting on the empty chair to my left. I refill her glass.
“Who isn’t her son who reminds her of her other son.”
“She has no idea what an ally you are,” I say, refilling my glass and returning the bottle to the ice, when suddenly a familiar man sits down at the end of the table between us.
And he is not a welcome visitor. “Agent Dennis,” I greet him, noting his appearance. “Is two-day stubble and a gray suit, which you may or may not have slept in last night, FBI dress code?”
“FBI?” Emily asks, and I don’t miss the way her fingers curl into her palms on the table.
“That’s right,” Agent Dennis says. “I was around the night you landed in the hospital from the car accident that wasn’t a car accident.”
“Don’t play games with her,” I warn. “What do you want?”
“Relax,” he says to me. And then to Emily: “Really. You can relax. I’m not here to cause trouble.”
“And yet you just made that car accident comment,” I say.
“To make a point,” he replies. “I kept my mouth shut because I know Nick, and he convinced me you’re one of the good guys. And I’m loyal to Nick. Or actually to his sister, who I’m in love with but who hates me, which is a long story I won’t tell. Bottom line: I know you’re doing business with Martina’s consortium.” He holds up a hand again. “I know. It’s legit. And it is, but he’s not.”
“What do you want, Agent?” I repeat.
He taps the table. “To do you a favor in the hopes that, one day, you might do me one.” He doesn’t give me time to reject that option. “I know your brother was the reason Martina was involved with your company. And I can see that you’re separating yourself from anything that might attract him to you. But a man like him likes to come back for seconds. Maybe not now. Maybe not in a year. But eventually.”
“I’m not going to help you take him down,” I say, “and neither is Emily. So cut to the chase.”
“Emily is a weapon he’ll use against you,” he says. “But you see, he has an Emily too.”
“You mean his sister?” I ask. “Because I’m not convinced he’d put her above business.”
“He wouldn’t,” he says. “But Jennie is another story.”
I arch a brow. “Jennie?”
“A good girl who fell in love with him before she knew who and what he is,” he explains. “And she paid the price. His enemies came after her. He changed her name and gave her a new start.” He reaches into his pocket and sets a letter-sized envelope on the table. “That has everything you need to know to confirm this information, but this needs to stay between the three of us and no one else. Once it gets out, it’s no longer the life insurance you want it to be.”
I leave the envelope on the table. “How do you know about this woman?”
“How I know about her isn’t what’s important,” he says. “I know about her. And now you know about her. It protects Emily. We have to protect those we love from bastards like Adrian Martina. If you ever need to use that name, you’ll be remembering Derek and appreciating how true that is. And I’d appreciate you dropping me a few pebbles on Adrian.”
“We have to protect those we love,” I repeat, narrowing my eyes at him, his motives suddenly clear to me. “This is personal to you.”
“Let’s just say that I had a brother once too,” he says, grabbing a napkin and curling it in his fist. “Nick can reach me if you want or need a buffer between me and you.” He glances at Emily. “Nice to meet you, Emily.” He stands up and walks away, my gaze tracking his departure when Emily grabs my arm.
“Shane,” she says. “We have a problem.”
“I’m sure he’s a problem,” I say. “If he’s right—”
“Shane, he took my napkin. He made a point of taking it. That can’t be by accident. He was after my fingerprints, which means he must suspect I’m not who I say I am.”