The Red Ledger: 7

by Meredith Wild

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I know you were close.”

  She sniffs quietly. “Thank you. I’m glad you at least got to know her. It still feels so surreal. Halo will never be the same without her. She touched so many people.”

  I bite my tongue because I know better. Halo may not ever be the same. It can only be better, but my mom’s heart can’t take the truth right now.

  “That’s one of the reasons I called. I’m not sure where things stand with Halo at the moment, but I really need your help with something.”

  “What is it?”

  “Right before I left Rio, Halo gained access to Chalys Pharmaceuticals’ financials. It’s what triggered the hit on me. You were getting close to something important. I need to see what you found.”

  “That was Martine’s operation. She kept whatever they found. We never had time to look at everything because you came home. That’s all I cared about.”

  “Halo’s been storing up information on people for years. Tell me you still have access to everything.”

  She doesn’t answer right away. My stomach does a dive. A lifetime’s worth of blackmail couldn’t have died with one woman. She couldn’t have been that conceited.

  “I came to town for Martine’s funeral. Papa and I managed to make sense of things. So, yes, the information is safe. I can send you the financials if that’s what you need.”

  I chew the inside of my lip, wondering how I should outright ask for what I really need. All of it. My grandfather already padded my account with a hefty sum of Halo funds should I ever need them, but the real fortune is the incriminating information Martine kept on people. Right now, it could be the key to unlocking whatever Company Eleven has planned for this operation.

  “I need more. This is bigger than Kristopher Boswell, and we don’t have a lot of time to be kept in the dark on anything.”

  “What are you asking?”

  “Mom, I need all of it. I need as much as I can get my hands on if we’re going to connect the dots on this.”

  “You’re talking about thousands of files. Extremely valuable and potentially dangerous information if it gets into the wrong hands.”

  I know she’s talking about Tristan. The man who’s kept me safe. The lover who’s killed for me. The assassin who could have ended my life but somehow ended up making me fall in love with him all these years later, under the worst possible circumstances.

  “If this is about Tristan…”

  “This is about keeping you safe. If you think you’re in danger now, you have no idea how much trouble you could be bringing yourself if someone knows you have those files.”

  I clench my jaw and will myself not to groan in frustration. My mother’s persistently narrow way of thinking is at least part of the reason we’re in this mess. In the spirit of making peace with her, I don’t tell her this.

  “Mom, please, I’m begging you to trust me. Believe me when I say I’ve been through hell and all I want is to end this once and for all. If I don’t find what I need in Halo’s files, I promise I’ll destroy everything. But you’ve been trying to bring them down for years. I’m going to do more than try this time.”

  “What do you know? What’s going on?”

  There’s a mix of panic and eagerness in her voice that worries me. I love my mother, but I don’t entirely trust her instincts when it comes to this mission. No doubt I’m emotionally invested, but she’s let her thirst for vengeance blind her before. My grandfather’s seen it, and Martine twisted it to her advantage for years.

  “I don’t have the big picture yet. That’s where I need your help.”

  She sighs heavily. “Fine. But please don’t make me regret it.”

  We spend the next few minutes figuring out the logistics of giving me access to the Halo database. Focusing on the details is a welcome break from negotiating for the information itself, or worse, dwelling on the days of silence between us and the resentment I still harbor.

  “I wish your father were home right now. He’d love to hear your voice,” she says once we’ve finished.

  I’m hit with a pang of missing him, but I can’t forget he campaigned the hardest to rid my life of Tristan years ago. Reconciling with him will be a tougher bridge to cross. One day I will, but it won’t be today.

  “I’ll call again soon,” I say.

  She keeps me on the line, trying to keep me talking. She doesn’t want to let me go, but I promise her again that I won’t let so much time go by before reaching out again. Whatever I find and however Tristan and I can use it, I hope I can keep that promise to her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Tristan

  When I join Isabel in the living room, she barely notices.

  “Morning,” I say, drawn to the half-empty coffee pot sitting in its cradle.

  “Hi,” she mutters absently, her attention glued to my laptop screen. She’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, using the coffee table as a makeshift desk.

  “Anything new?” I drop onto the sofa behind her and peer over her shoulder.

  When she doesn’t answer, I lean in for a closer look. She’s scrolling through what looks like document scans.

  “What are those?”

  “Letters between Michael Pope’s attorneys and dozens of women.”

  “Who’s Michael Pope and why do we care?”

  She turns to face me, lifting up a piece of paper with her handwriting scribbled all over it.

  “I made a list.”

  I sit back and sip my coffee, trusting she has a lot more to tell me.

  “Back at the yacht party, Simon’s wife sat me with the other girlfriends. Ramsey Paulson’s girlfriend said there were eleven of them in this ‘club,’ but maybe more now that Mateus is about to join them. Anyway, she rattled off a few of their names. Michael Pope was one of them. I’m not sure if he was on the boat, but he was definitely on the list.”

  “And?”

  “And until his son finally went to the slammer a couple of years ago for raping and beating his ex-girlfriend, he’d been paying off a bunch of women who came out against him or threatened battery charges.”

  She seems so focused, I hesitate to interrupt her, but I have no idea where this is going. “Those are the letters?” I nod toward the screen.

  “Yes, all negotiating hush money. His son’s a vicious bastard, and Pope’s paid out hundreds of thousands to keep him out of trouble. It’s disgusting.”

  “How does this affect us? He’s in the Company, but this isn’t tying him to Chalys.”

  “All of this”—she gestures to the screen—“is too much and not enough. The accounting records are partial. The bookkeeping is limited to last quarter, and that’s what I was hoping would narrow things down. Everything else… There are at least a thousand folders and then thousands of documents on top of that. It’ll take weeks to sift through it all, and by then Felix is going to be skyrocketing to success. We don’t have that kind of time.”

  “How much coffee have you had?” I can’t help smiling at her infectious energy. “And more importantly, where did you get all this?”

  She blinks. “Oh. I talked to my mom. I convinced her to give me access to all the Halo files.”

  My smile slips with this realization. “You’re kidding.” I reach around her and pull the computer onto my lap.

  I can hardly believe it, but she’s right. There are endless files, and probably not easily searchable, like the fuzzy scans she was looking over.

  “What else did you find? Anyone else from the list?”

  “Other than Chalys, no. A lot of their stuff is pretty dated, though. Remember, this is a twenty-year-old grudge, so there’s a mountain of things that probably aren’t helpful. But I have an idea.”

  She lifts herself to sit on the edge of the table to face me.

  “Michael Pope. I think he’s our key. He has enemies.”

  “They all do, Isabel. Comes with the territory of being a billionaire captain of industry.”

  She
smirks. “Yes, but he has a really smart one.” She lifts up her paper again and points to one name written in capital letters and underlined several times.

  BLAKE LANDON

  “Who’s Blake Landon?”

  “He’s a hacker.”

  “I can hack into things too, you know.”

  “I’m sure you can, but this guy is next level. Rumor has it that he hacked into some big-time Wall Street accounts when he was thirteen and almost did time. Instead, he got scooped up by Michael Pope to develop some kind of next-generation banking software they sold for a ton of money. But they parted ways around the time Pope’s son, Max, went to jail. The ex-girlfriend’s wasn’t the only charge against him. He assaulted Landon’s wife too. Attempted rape. Trust me, he hates this guy.”

  “So what’s your plan?”

  “Okay. The best part? Landon’s right here in Boston. He runs a handful of tech companies and an angel fund with his wife. His office is a few blocks away. I say we get a meeting with him, tell him just enough to whet his appetite for a chance at payback against Pope, and see if we can get him to hack into whatever else we need.”

  I drink my coffee and consider everything she’s said. I have no idea who this Landon guy is or who his connections are. Her proposition isn’t terrible, but she’s made a lot of assumptions.

  “What if you’re wrong and he’s still affiliated with Pope in some way? If Landon was in business with him for that long, they may have meaningful ties no matter what Pope’s kid did. If you lay all this out for him, you could be bringing attention to us for no reason.”

  Her lips thin and she nods. “That could be the case, but I don’t think it is. Either way, I think I could feel him out to see where he stands before I completely tip our hand.”

  I lift a brow. “You could feel him out before you tip our hand? Were you going to invite me to this party, or are you considering another rogue mission?”

  “I would be happy to invite you, but I get the feeling this Landon guy walks the straight and narrow most of the time. A meeting at his office should be safe.” She reaches behind her and hands me my phone. “Besides, Townsend isn’t happy. I wouldn’t normally care, but I don’t think we should risk pissing him off when we could still use his help. Or Jay’s, for that matter. You should probably figure out how to talk him off the cliff.”

  I glance over the few texts he sent. Most of them threaten my life if I don’t stop stringing him along with Crow’s whereabouts. All of them are riddled with profanities. I curse under my breath.

  “Fine. I’ll deal with Townsend. Let me go call him before he blows a gasket, and we’ll figure the rest of this out.”

  Her smile is full of giddy satisfaction, probably because I haven’t totally shot her down like I have so many times before. Suddenly it’s the strangest sensation to know that she’s here, not just with me but beside me.

  I rise and step outside to call Townsend. It’s a Saturday morning, and the streets are quiet. Most of the sidewalks are still covered with last night’s snowfall. I was hoping to scope out the Boswell estate north of the city today, but the weather’s thrown a wrench in that plan until the city plows catch up.

  Townsend picks up on the second ring.

  “About fucking time, Red. Where the hell are you?”

  “Where are you?”

  “Well, I’ve spent a lot of time around a certain strip joint in New York where I was told I’d find Crow. Not having much luck.”

  “Could be worse places to be hanging around, I suppose.”

  “Where the fuck is he, Red? We had a deal. I helped you, and you were going to give me Crow. I’ve been here for days. Nothing.”

  “He didn’t answer my last couple of texts. He’s probably busy chasing down the leads Jay gave him. And if you’re prowling outside his favorite haunt, he might be suspicious and keeping his distance.”

  He cusses again, followed by the fierce sound of him sucking down a cigarette that’s probably doing nothing to ease his nerves.

  “You talk to Jay about this yet?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he snaps.

  “Is she all right?”

  “She’s fine. You worry about your business, and I’ll worry about mine.”

  As much as I’m glad not to be in charge of Jay’s safety, she still feels like my business. And Isabel’s right. We may still need her. She was the right hand of the Company for too long. She knows a lot more than she ever told us.

  “I might be getting close to something,” I say.

  “Simon? You going to let him slip by you again this time?”

  I ignore his taunt. Mateus let Simon Pelletier go, not me. If it were my call, Simon would have swallowed the aconite Townsend gave us and died on the yacht right along with Vince. Unfortunately Mateus thought it’d be a better idea to join the Company Eleven ranks instead.

  “I think I found the connection between him and Boswell. Have you ever heard of Felix?”

  I walk up and down the pavement, waiting for any acknowledgment. The silence is too long. It doesn’t feel right. “Townsend…”

  “What about it?”

  “What do you know about it?”

  “Fuck you. Find me Crow.”

  I grind my teeth together. Damnit, he’s so difficult. “Fine. I’ll ask Jay. She’s probably due for an update, right?”

  “Red, stay in your fucking lane.”

  “Then stay in yours. Tell me how you know about Felix. I thought you only dealt with underground drugs.”

  With his black bag of tricks, Townsend would be the one to know about the dark side of any new drug on the market. It hadn’t occurred to me that Felix would have a dark side, though.

  “Listen, Crow’s flown the coop. I’m wasting my time here. I might as well come to you.”

  I’m anxious to press him more about what he knows about Felix, but something tells me I won’t get very far on the phone, especially with Townsend’s present mood. Bringing him to Boston brings its own challenges, but right now nothing is more important than unraveling the Company’s involvement with Felix.

  “I’m in Boston.”

  He snickers. “I should have guessed that.”

  He’s not stupid. He knows I’m here for the Boswells.

  “Can you keep your mouth shut? I’d rather if they didn’t see it coming.”

  “I want to get on their radar about as much as you do. This is your fight, not mine. Didn’t think you were going to move right into their backyard, though.”

  “When have I been known to back down?”

  “One particular instance comes to mind,” he offers with no small amount of satisfaction.

  Isabel. I roll my eyes, irritated that I gave him an easy opening.

  “Let me know when you get into town. Then we’ll talk,” I say.

  “I’ll be there tonight. Tell cupcake to lay out the welcome mat for me.”

  ISABEL

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you?”

  Tristan and I linger outside the entrance to Landon’s downtown office.

  I shiver and hug my coat tight across my middle. “I can handle it. Promise.”

  He purses his lips and looks me over. His silence makes me edgy. The confidence I’ve been building up all afternoon leading to this meeting starts to waver. I’m not sure how this is going to go, but I’ve mentally prepared myself for every scenario I can think of. Getting Blake Landon on our side would be a coup for our cause, but if he goes the other way and still holds allegiance to Pope, we could lose critical ground. Every move matters, and I’m in the driver’s seat on this one.

  “Tristan, I can—”

  He touches his finger to my lips, stopping me as he takes a step closer. “I know you can handle it. Periodic questionable judgment aside, you continue to impress me with the things you’re capable of. And if I don’t tell you enough, it’s because I’m an asshole. It’s not on you.”

  I lift my lips into a smile. “You’ve bee
n a little distracted.”

  “A little.” He slides his fingertips to feather over my cheek, his expression growing serious again. “Don’t let anyone make you question your strength. Not even me. Don’t give anyone that kind of power.”

  Our gazes lock for a long moment. I nod, feeling bolder, because right now Tristan does have that kind of power. I know I can be strong on my own, but having Tristan’s faith in me makes me feel stronger, no matter what he says.

  I glance to the door and back. “I should go in. His assistant said he had a small window of availability today. I don’t have a lot of time.”

  He frowns a little. “Listen to your gut. That little voice in your head. If something feels off, get out of there.”

  “Got it.” I squeeze his hand once more before turning and passing through the doors.

  I expect a fancy corporate reception area, but most of the office serves as an open-concept bullpen, where at least a dozen people are wired into their computers, tapping away like I don’t exist. I walk quickly through the aisle that leads toward a young woman behind a large desk.

  I smile politely when I reach her. “Hi, I’m Isabel.”

  When she looks up, her short, pink-tipped spiky hair doesn’t move an inch from all the product in it. “Oh, hi. I’m Cady. We spoke earlier.”

  “That’s right. Is Mr. Landon still free now?”

  “He just finished up a conference call. You can head right in. He’s expecting you.” She gestures toward the closed office door behind her.

  My stomach does a nervous flip, but I try to stifle any outward signs of my anxiety, no matter how justified it may be. Landon is an important man regardless of what I need from him. I take in a deep breath and walk to the door, eager to get face time with him.

  I step inside the office. It’s completely quiet except for the subtle taps of fingertips across a keyboard. I can only see the side of Landon’s face, which is glowing from the multiple monitors taking up a second desk.

  I clear my throat. “Mr. Landon. Thank you for seeing me on short notice.”

  He doesn’t look up. “Take a seat.”