Bad Deeds

by Lisa Renee Jones

  I nod and we round the desk, but just as we reach the door, he snags my waist and turns me to him. “If ever I’m not home,” he says, “I’m wishing I was there.”

  My thundering heart falls. He’s just prepared me for more lonely nights, and I can’t even find the words to reply. Not that I have a chance. He kisses me. A long drugging kiss that leaves me breathless but still sad. There is something missing in that kiss, like a piece of him he’s holding back. He begins to release me and I catch his arm, my fingers going to his lips. “Still not your shade,” I say, wiping away my lipstick.

  His mouth twitches and then curves. “But you are. I’ll go first and take the heat.” He then sets me aside and opens the door, leaving me with the dire need to yank him back and lock it again. But I can’t, and I’m not sure what I could change if I did—in this moment, at least.

  He exits to the alcove and mini lobby that is my desk area, and I immediately follow, my heart sinking as I find Brandon Senior with his feet propped up on my desk. “If you two are done,” he says, settling his feet on the ground, “we can get to work.” He stands and addresses Shane. “I’ll need an official legal document naming you as the acting CEO.”

  “It was in your inbox, and Emily’s, an hour ago,” Shane says. “And I need a heads-up when it goes out, since my phone is going to start ringing.”

  Senior looks at me, his eyes bloodshot, his complexion ruddy. “Send it.” He glances at Shane. “You have your heads-up.”

  Shane inclines his head and starts to turn, but his father isn’t ready for him to escape. “No one rules this company but a Brandon. Do you understand me?”

  “One hundred percent,” Shane confirms.

  “You do whatever you have to do to keep it that way,” Senior orders.

  “I need every piece of controlling ammunition on anyone you consider an enemy,” Shane responds.

  Senior gives a sharp nod. “You’ll get it.”

  “Before you leave,” Shane presses.

  “Yes,” Senior agrees. “Before I leave.” He turns and walks into his office and calls out, “I need that magical tea, Ms. Stevens.”

  And that’s when the breeze under my dress makes my eyes go wide. Oh God. I look at Shane and mouth, Panties. Do you have them?

  He gives a silent laugh and shakes his head, pointing to the office, while I let out a silent scream of, No!!!!!

  “Afraid so,” he says, smiling as he closes the small space between us. “You want to—”

  “No,” I say, “and stop smiling. This is not funny.”

  “It’s a little funny.”

  “You go to your office. You have gotten me in enough trouble.”

  He lets out a low, deep, sexy chuckle, kisses my forehead, and takes off walking, and I swear, he owns every inch of this building just by being here. He darn sure just proved he owns me, but now his father will too. I press my hands to my desk. At least Shane was smiling, but I really have not had enough sleep for the roller coaster ride that this day has been and it’s—I look at the clock—only eight fifteen. I straighten and hurry to the break room, warm up the tea, and then return to my workspace, pausing at the door of Senior’s office. Maybe the panties are under his desk and he will never notice. Maybe …

  He starts hacking and it’s bad. Deep, vicious coughing, and I forget my panties. I rush into the office and find him leaning over his trashcan. I shut the door to offer him privacy, and then I’m across the room in an instant. Kneeling in front of him, I find myself staring in horror at the bloodstained tissues in his hand. It’s so much blood. So very much blood, and I can’t do anything but wait for the attack to end. Finally, he seems to wheeze and then pull in air. “Tea,” he murmurs, and I hand it to him.

  He quickly drinks. “It’s hot. It’s good.” He tilts it back and takes a long swallow before scowling at me. “Why are you on your knees?”

  “I—”

  “Up. We have work to do.” He turns forward.

  I stand and move to the front of his desk and blanch at the sight of my panties hanging from a pencil in the pencil holder.

  “It appears I have new décor,” he says dryly, a rasp to his voice I think might be from the coughing attack. Or cancer. Or really, they are one in the same.

  I snatch them up, and thank God I have a pocket in my dress, where I shove them. “Sorry. That was because … I was…” I purse my lips. “I should stop talking now and say nothing more.”

  “Nothing,” he repeats flatly. “Frankly, Ms. Stevens, I hardly think your panties on my desk is nothing. Do you love him?”

  The question takes me by surprise, but I do not miss a beat. “Yes. I do. I love him very much.”

  “My wife used to have that look on her face when she spoke of me.”

  I sit down in the chair. “She still does.”

  “She’s fucking my best friend, Mike Rogers.”

  “I know.”

  “Of course you know. My son has a big mouth.”

  “No. I saw them.”

  “You saw them?”

  “Yes,” I say. “I saw them.”

  “Where? When?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “No,” he bites out. “No, it does not. She’s lying down for him. That’s what matters.”

  My lips purse. “You do remember you’re with someone else too, right?”

  “He was my best friend.”

  The word “friend” is not one I expect from him, but he is vehement on this point, proving there is more to him than meets the eye.

  “And my wife is most likely helping him take over my company, so don’t go throwing your moral high code on me. And don’t fucking do it to my son or you’ll get him killed. Go get that document to the stockholders and start with that bastard Mike. Call him and make sure he gets it.”

  “I will,” I say, standing, and then walk toward the door.

  “And, Ms. Stevens,” he says as I reach for the knob, “too many people are getting fucked in this office. Don’t let it happen again.”

  Despite being aware of the fact that he’s lashing out, demoralizing me out of his own hurt and anger, I feel the blow of his words like a punch. I exit the office and shut the door, leaning against it, but it’s not my panties on my mind. It’s something else he said. Don’t go throwing your moral high code on me. And don’t fucking do it to my son or you’ll get him killed.

  That’s what Shane thinks too. That’s why he didn’t come home last night, and I just don’t know what to do with that information or what I feel right now.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  SHANE

  I head through the lobby, the scent of Emily’s perfume on my skin, which is exactly what I wanted. Now every decision I make today will be made with that scent reminding me of her. Reminding me that one wrong move and I could lose her, be it by way of my enemies or my own choices. But at least if it’s from my own choices, she leaves me alive. As I reach the end of the hallway leading to my office and Derek’s, I glance to his closed door, his secretary giving me a snide glower. I wink at her, enjoying the confused look on her face and wondering how she’d feel knowing my brother probably fucks her after he’s been inside Teresa. And the minute Teresa finds out, Derek is dead. I wonder who’s fucking who in that meeting with Mike and Derek, and I’m betting on Mike. That’s not a good thing. This company is Brandon to the core, and it will stay that way.

  Cutting left, I head toward my office, finding Jessica’s desk empty but my door open. I pass her workspace and enter mine right as she is about to exit. I stop and do a double take at her hair. “Who are you and what have you done with my secretary?”

  “What were you thinking, Shane?! In your father’s office.”

  “There’s the Jessica I know. There’s a designer purse with an unlimited price tag on it if you stop talking about this and keep my coffee cup filled today.” I walk around her and head to my desk, stepping behind it as she faces me. “And get ready. The entire board is going to call me today.”


  “I don’t need to be bribed to do my job, Shane.”

  “Consider it a reward for doing it well.”

  “Oh God. How bad is this day going to be?”

  “Bad. The board, remember?”

  “Why exactly are they calling?”

  “My father’s been accepted into a cancer trial. He’s leaving for Germany.”

  “How effective is the trial?”

  “He’s terminal. This is his last chance. That’s the stat that matters.”

  “I’ll read into that the way you’d assume I will. And why are the board members calling you, so I can be prepared? Are we giving them dates he’ll be gone, or—”

  “I’ll be acting as CEO until he’s at full capacity again.”

  She gapes at me and closes the space between herself and my desk. “And if he doesn’t return to full capacity?”

  “I’ll have six months until a vote will be required to keep me in the role.”

  “And your father picked you over Derek?”

  “I picked me over Derek. I wrote the amendment that made this mandatory.”

  “Of course you did. How’s Derek taking it?”

  “He’s at breakfast with Mike Rogers and most likely plotting my undoing.”

  “That will be interesting to see. Are you sure you don’t want whiskey instead of coffee? I do.”

  “Coffee. Lots of it. I didn’t sleep last night.”

  “I won’t ask—now. Later I will.” She turns and starts walking.

  “Jessica,” I call out.

  She rotates. “Yes.”

  “I like the hair.”

  She doesn’t beam or glow. She just says, “Me too,” and turns again, disappearing into the hallway.

  I haven’t even had time to sit down when Seth appears, and since he now has on a blue suit, tie and jacket in place, I assume he too managed to shower. He’s followed by a tall, muscular man in a simple white T-shirt, tat sleeves lining his arms, who I assume to be Cody.

  “I hope like hell you don’t bring bad news about Ted,” I say as Seth shuts the door and walks toward me.

  “No news on our end,” Seth says while the two of them cross to the front of my desk.

  “Cody Rodriguez,” the newcomer says, extending his hand.

  “Shane Brandon,” I say, sliding my palm to his and giving it a firm grip. “I understand you met Emily this morning.”

  “Indeed,” he confirms, his hands settling on his hips. “I met her, and I have to say, she knows how to make a lasting impression.”

  I arch a brow and claim my seat, motioning for them to sit, which they do. “How so?” I ask, assessing Cody, who at this point reads as strong and confident to me.

  “I took a call from one of Nick’s men at the wrong time,” Seth interjects.

  “In other words,” Cody says, “he didn’t warn her I was about to introduce myself. So here I am. Mexican, in a hoodie, and approaching her in a hallway by a bathroom the night after Martina showed up at your apartment.”

  “She thought you were with him,” I assume.

  “One would assume that was her assessment,” Cody confirms. “Bottom line, I spooked her and she was pissed. And she didn’t mind letting me know.”

  “Or me,” Seth inserts dryly.

  “She’s tough,” Cody says, “but more so, she was alert and aware of her surroundings. That’s good, but it’s not enough. I’m going to tell you what I told her. I know the cartels and how they operate. I know how to protect her, but I need to be given the freedom to do so.”

  “I’m listening,” I say. “What do you need me to do?”

  “For starters,” Seth interjects again, “you and Emily need to decide if he’s going to openly watch over her or operate in the shadows.”

  “Which is the safest answer?” I ask.

  “Openly shadowing her is going to make Emily and everyone around her nervous,” Cody says, “which can become complicated and stir up questions you might not want to answer from your staff and board of directors. But hiding in the shadows slightly decreases my response time if she gets into trouble. I’ll feel better about that if she carries a gun and knows how to use it. Does she and can she?”

  “If she doesn’t, we can remedy that,” I say, eyeing Seth, who answers without me asking.

  “I’ll get her an appropriate firearm this afternoon.”

  “A Taser as well,” Cody adds, “and Mace.”

  Unease slides down my spine. “You think the visit from Ramon is more than Martina trying to get in my head?”

  “When you visited Teresa,” Cody says, “you decided to play Russian roulette with a Mexican who doesn’t mind pulling the trigger and really wants the bullet to end up in your head.”

  “I might not know cartels, Cody,” I say, “but I read people really damn well. He needed to know he couldn’t cow me. He needed to question what I really might do.”

  “And what are you willing to do?” Seth asks.

  I cut him a look, not sure either of us is ready to hear me answer that out loud just yet. And I don’t need to right now anyway. “It doesn’t matter what I’m willing to do,” I say. “It matters what he thinks I’ll do. I evened the playing field again.”

  “And you got Ramon’s attention in the process,” Cody says. “A man who has a known interest in Teresa and a hell of a lot of anger that, because he can’t have her, he takes out on everyone around him and her.”

  “Martina wants this partnership with me,” I say. “Any wrong move by Ramon will destroy that and put Ramon in Martina’s hot seat.”

  “That sounds logical to you and me,” Cody says. “But my studies show him to be a wild card who’s gone rogue more than once.”

  “Then I need you both to find a way to get him out of the picture,” I say.

  “Out of the picture?” Seth asks. “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t care if you send him back to Mexico in a wooden box. Get him out of the picture before it’s my family who ends up dead.” My office phone buzzes and I grimace, punching the button long enough to say, “Take a message from whoever it is,” before releasing it.

  “Even Mike Rogers?” she asks

  I grimace. “No. Not Mike Rogers. Put him through.” The line buzzes again and I pick it up, speaking before Mike has the chance. “If it isn’t the ghost of the man called Mike Rogers himself,” I say. “What did I do to finally merit communication?”

  “From what I hear, you took over a company I’m vested in.”

  “You heard wrong then,” I say. “My father is still very much in control as the document sent out this morning states. I’m simply on standby to fill in should he need a little recuperation time.”

  “You really think he’s going to live?”

  “Are you really hoping he’s going to die?”

  “Friends don’t wish friends dead, but stockholders need straight answers.”

  Rarely do I have to bite back my choice words, but I do now. “What do you want, Mike?”

  “Let’s meet.”

  A chance to look into this man’s eyes has appeal. “When?”

  “Tonight at six for drinks.”

  Not about to do this on his terms and with sleep deprivation weighing on me, I counter. “Seven in the morning,” I say, testing his loyalty to my father by adding, “the coffee shop here and my father can sit in.”

  “Caribou on Sixteenth Street and just you.”

  “My father can reassure you his health is on the mend.”

  “I want to talk about what happens if it’s not, and that’s not a conversation that feels appropriate with him present and on his way to treatment.”

  “All right then,” I say, unsurprised the bastard doesn’t want to face my father. “Us alone.” I disconnect the line and look between Seth and Cody. “He met with Derek this morning and Derek is aligned with Martina. I need to know if Mike is as well.”

  “We’ve found nothing that tells us he is,” Seth says. “And meetin
gs with Derek do not compute to alignment but rather Derek’s attempt to earn his vote.”

  “A vote that isn’t happening for at least six months,” I say, “if it happens at all. No. There’s more to this.”

  “If I might interject,” Cody says, drawing our attention. “I know the cartels. I know Martina, but he doesn’t know me.”

  “And the takeaway?”

  “Adrian Martina is one of the shrewdest, most dangerous men I’ve ever studied. If he wants your company, and he does, he would not ignore a key stockholder such as Mike. But that said, he’s calculating. He might not have made contact, but he damn sure has a plan to control Mike and use him if necessary. And let’s just face it. Drugs and basketball equal a variety of scandals he could create for Mike.”

  All things I’ve already considered. “He claims he wants to go legitimate.”

  “And yet, Ted is missing,” Cody says.

  “Point made,” I say, his assessment confirming mine. “Emily’s smart with good common sense. We need her to be part of deciding how we address her protection.” I look at Cody. “Follow your existing protocols for now. I’ll talk to her tonight and arrange a sit-down.”

  “I’m in the hotel room around the clock when she’s home,” Cody says. “Just say the word and I’ll be there.”

  I look at Seth and he reads my mind before I speak. “Mike. I know.”

  We all stand, but when Seth is about to leave, Cody isn’t moving, his gaze locked on me. “In the old-school Mexican culture, brothers are possessive of their sisters,” he says. “Teresa can protect Derek to some degree, but the minute Adrian feels he’s locked you down, your brother becomes disposable. If Derek makes one wrong move with Teresa, Ramon will kill him.”

  The impact of his assessment hits me with the force of a hundred accurate blows. He’s right, as Adrian already believes Derek used Teresa to get to him. “Since you’re sharing your opinions,” I say, “what will motivate Adrian to get out of our operation?”

  “I might have more to offer once I get my feet wet, but for now … cartels know three things: money, trouble, and blood, but they always follow the money.”

  “We need to be the trouble and the blood,” Seth says, eyeing a text message and then glancing at Cody. “Shane and I need to speak alone.”