by Lee,Molly E.
“If anything happens to her, I’ll break.” I rubbed my palms over my face as a pickaxe dug in between my eyes. Would it be enough? Have I done enough?
“What an absolute scumbag.” Mom sighed. “And the Head of Government? He gave you say in this because you’re my son?”
I nodded.
“I’m here now. We’ll settle this.”
“Sadie can’t know. She can’t know you’re my mom.”
“Why not?”
“She won’t trust you.”
“Because of what you did to her or what I did to you?” She swallowed hard, and I took her hand.
“Both.”
“We’re too much alike. Hurting the ones we love most because we’re too hung up on our own shit.”
“I guess.” I shook my head. “Can you really help me?” I held her gaze. “I mean, will you?”
“Of course. But can you do me a favor?”
“You help Sadie, and I’ll do anything you want.”
“Tear down these walls and let that girl back in. Do whatever it takes, because she’s obviously the one. Nothing else short of love could bring you back to me.” She hugged me again and this time, I hugged her back.
It was awkward, not as easy as it once had been, but I could feel it . . . the familiarity of what it had been like when it had been me and her trying to save Conner, and before that, Conner, her and me, living life like a team.
“I promise, Mom,” I said. “But I can’t guarantee she’ll ever speak to me again.”
“You might be surprised.”
“After everything I’ve done? I wouldn’t give me another chance.”
She pulled away and picked up her bag off the ground. “That’s the thing about love, son. It doesn’t make sense, it just is.”
Sadie
I STEPPED OUT of the airport and into the taxi line, the Houston heat completely different from the Bahamas sun I’d left behind a little over three hours ago.
Ryan had more than made good on his efforts to help me, and he worked fast—nearly as fast as Connell was in the water. I shifted the small leather backpack on my shoulder, my chest tightening at just the thought of his name.
Slipping into a blessedly air-conditioned cab, I rattled off the address to Slade Industries headquarters’ that Ryan had given me. He had made a few calls, along with providing me with some hard evidence I’d never be able to repay him for. He’d went above the efforts needed, and did so all in the name of hoping I’d pay it forward and give Connell a second chance.
Connell barely had any friends, but the one he’d acquired was loyal to the end, and it made me feel somewhat comforted in my pain. If a stand-up man like Ryan could find the good in Connell and defend him with every breath, then I didn’t feel as foolish for giving him my heart to crush. I pulled out the paperwork from my bag, forcing myself to focus on what really mattered, not the still aching wound with Connell’s name on it.
The cab dropped me off in front of a ten-story, green stucco building lined with mirror-glass windows. I shielded my eyes from the bright sun reflecting off the glass, shocked that Slade’s primary building only had ten stories. I’d expected hundreds with the way he threw around his ego, but of course, he did have a dozen more buildings spread throughout the country.
“Mr. Williams is waiting for you,” a redhead receptionist said, flicking her fingers toward a set of double doors after I’d told her my name. She clearly had left her southern hospitality at home today.
I pushed through the doors, steeling myself against whatever this crotchety old man would say in Slade’s defense. I had plenty of evidence, and, really, I’d be doing him a favor as well. My breath caught in my throat as I walked further into the sleek office decorated with plush leather chairs and a cherry-wood desk.
Mr. Williams—silent partner with one percent over Slade’s control of his own company—was not the Scrooge character I’d imagined on the plane ride over. He was only a handful of years older than me, with broad shoulders filling out his slick black suit, his cornflower blue tie making his even bluer eyes pop. He had short cropped brown hair, with evidence of a five o’clock shadow dusting his strong jaw. The man was gorgeous, and absolutely not what I was expecting.
“Do sit down, Ms. Jenkins,” he said, a slight accent sounded when he said my name. He glanced at his watch—a Rolex no doubt. “I only have about ten minutes, so please dive right in.”
I sank into one of the wide armchairs across from his desk as he elected to stand and lean against it. “Ten minutes?” I shook my head. “I suppose I’ll talk fast.” I couldn’t help the attitude in my voice. I’d flown three hours just to speak with him, for both our benefits. I took a steadying breath and reminded myself Ryan had done me a huge favor by setting this up.
Turn on your filter, girl. For Ryan’s sake.
Mr. Williams stared down at me, an easy half smile on his face.
“All right,” I said, shoving at him the copy of the contract Slade had drawn for his and Connell’s deal. “First piece of evidence Slade is working on the wrong side of ethical.”
He took it from me, his sharp eyes scanning the document with a rapid pace.
Ryan had said it was Connell’s copy, and that he’d given it to him freely in any attempt to help. The gesture had warmed my insides for a blink before the pain of betrayal set right back in and coupled with a boatload of confusion.
“How did you acquire this?” Mr. Williams gestured toward the document before setting it on his desk.
My heart sank. How could he not be immediately outraged over this? Did this sort of thing happen all the time in companies with this much money at stake?
“I’m a resourceful woman,” I said honestly and pulled up a video on my iPhone. I handed it to him. “If the contract isn’t enough to buy me more time with you, click play.”
He arched a perfectly tweezed eyebrow at me but tapped the screen. I sat further back in my chair, knowing this was a priceless piece of evidence against Slade. I had watched it three times on the plane—a testimonial from the man who had threatened me and my crew with a gun while posing as a drug dealer on Slade’s behalf. Ryan had secured the video for me as a bonus I never thought I’d receive.
When I’d asked him how he managed to get the guy to go on record, he’d shrugged. A signature Connell shrug that made me question what type of motivation was used in wrenching the confession from the man. Ryan had further reminded me that the guy hadn’t technically committed a crime—besides boarding my boat without permission and waving an unloaded gun around—and that it was easy to sell someone like Slade out. Still, I couldn’t help but imagine Connell somehow being involved, like I could smell his scent on the whole scheme.
Regardless, it appeared to be working, because Mr. Williams had straightened and his eyebrows were drawn together over his slightly tanned forehead.
“Evidence number three,” I said and handed him a tape recorder. “This was the recorder the man—the one you just saw confess about what Slade hired him to do—used when on board my ship. Everything is on it, right up to when I call him out for being a fake.”
He handed my phone back as he took the recorder and walked around his desk, clicking a button on his phone.
“Mr. Williams?” The redhead’s voice came over the speaker.
“Cancel my flight. I’ll be spending the remainder of the day here.”
“Absolutely. Anything else I can get you?”
“No, thank you.” He took his hand off the button and sat heavily in the chair behind his desk. He smoothed out his tie before finally looking me in the eye.
“How much do you want?”
I tilted my head. “Excuse me?”
“To keep this matter private.”
My eyes turned to slits upon recognizing what he implied. “You think I’m here to blackmail you?”
“Aren’t you?” He gestured to the contract and then to the cell still in my hand.
I stood up, the adrenaline r
ushing through my veins too much to take sitting down. I sucked my teeth and shook my head. “It’s just like you corporate types to jump to that conclusion first. Do you all operate like this?” Maybe I should’ve asked for one hundred and twenty million. Think of all the sites I could save with that. I blinked hard, grounding myself in reality.
“You could have taken this to the authorities,” Mr. Williams said. “It’s perfectly reasonable for me to wonder why you brought it to my attention first.”
I took a breath, realizing his logic. “He’s not fully implicated in crimes within this evidence, only severely unethical dealings. And I want Slade to be punished accordingly. Despite being a ‘silent partner’, Mr. Williams”—I made quotations around the term because I honestly didn’t understand it, especially since he had an office at headquarters—“Slade isn’t representing this company ethically, morally, or any other professional way for that matter. And even if you don’t care about his actions toward me and my site, you have to realize that this type of behavior is ingrained in him. He’s done it before, I’m sure, and will do it again.”
Williams rubbed the barely visible stubble on his jaw and sighed. “I didn’t see this coming. Slade has always had an ego, but he’s successfully run one of the nation’s largest gas corporations for over a decade. I assumed that was earned.”
“With a dirty pair of gloves.” I shook my head. “I don’t want money, Mr. Williams. And I don’t want this to go public, not by my doing at least. I simply don’t want this to happen to anyone else.”
“And if your site is saved in the process?”
“Then the ecosystem that could quite possibly produce a cure for cancer survives, along with more than half the percentage of the island’s keystone food source.”
He cracked a grin, sitting further back in his chair. “You’re something else, Ms. Jenkins,” he said and chuckled.
I didn’t realize I’d said anything funny, but I took his words in silence, hoping he was leaning toward helping me.
He reeled in his laughter and cleared his throat. “This is deplorable behavior on his part and I will not stand for it.” A muscle in his jaw ticked as he composed himself. “I’d like to investigate the matter more thoroughly as well as handle this in a discreet manner.”
“And Slade?”
He nodded. “I’ll take the proper action necessary against him.”
“That’s extremely vague.” I popped my hand on my hip. I wanted answers. Crystal clear ones, before I had to fly back to a site I may not have the power to save.
He pushed back his chair and came to stand right in front of me, his hands casually in his pockets like the worst of the meeting had passed. He was so close I could smell his aftershave—a sharp but not unpleasant scent. “You were right. Ten minutes isn’t enough to placate you.”
It was my turn to arch an eyebrow at him.
He smiled again. It was a fine smile, and I even gave him a small one in return, but it had nothing behind it—because I was fixated on a man whose edges were jagged, not perfect.
“I need a drink,” he said, smoothing out his perfect tie. Again. “Join me?”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Aren’t my ten minutes up?”
“Forgive me,” he said, “I’m not accustomed to taking meetings with Slade’s . . . well, I suppose you’re not a client of his. Perhaps anti-client? No matter. I deal with a different side of the business—booking, media, platform building. That sort of thing.”
“You’re the only person above him,” I said. “I had no one else to go to because I honestly don’t have a clue how far his reach is . . .” That’s why I hadn’t immediately gone to the island authority with this.
“Understood,” he said. “And I should have been more accommodating in the beginning. I do apologize, Ms. Jenkins. Please allow me to make it up to you with dinner.”
“Dinner, now? I’ve been upgraded.” I grinned, but there were no butterflies flapping in my stomach. The gorgeous billionaire before me spoke beautifully, offering more words than Connell ever would on a regular basis, but I had no desire to see where it would lead. Either it was too soon, or more likely, I would never be rid of the love I had for Connell. Oh God, would I be comparing every man in the future to him?
The notion terrified me and left me with an even more empty hole in my chest. Because I didn’t want there to be other men. I wanted Connell to be the man I had believed him to be. Not the one who betrayed me, crushed me, all in the name of money.
“Join me?” Williams asked, drawing me back to the present.
“On one condition,” I found myself saying without thinking, no doubt the terror pushing me to act. “Call me Sadie, please. While you’re used to the formal, I’m not.”
He smiled and nodded, holding out his hand. “Casey.”
I shook it. His skin was smooth as silk where Connell’s working hands were rough and callused.
Comparing again, already a reflex. Damn it.
The red blend Casey had selected was soothing my nerves just fine, but it was nothing compared to the rum I favored on the island. I set the stemless glass down on the cloth-covered table for two, glancing across it. He expertly cut into his seared scallops, and I simply stared in awe at how perfect he seemed—like he thought about every move or word before acting or speaking.
Piano music filled the small restaurant, which set in the uppermost floor of some other incredibly tall sky-scraper building in Houston’s central hub. We’d driven here in a sleek black Cadillac, chauffeured by his personal driver. The life he led, so very different than mine. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find it intriguing—this type of life where nothing was off the table or out of reach—but it wasn’t me.
I preferred the noise of the ocean and the solidarity of earning a sore body after a day of hard work. Though I’m sure Casey could handle the exhaustion of a dive, and perhaps even understand what it was like to be a workaholic like I was, he’d never fully understand my calling. The waves, the water, the deep world underneath only few experienced, it wasn’t something you could explain. There was something magical about it, something that once shared with another was binding.
“Is your risotto undercooked?” he asked, and I blinked a few times.
“No, it’s perfect.” I took another bite. The dish was smooth and expensive, just like my choice of dinner partner tonight. Nothing compared to the rough seared conch I normally ate, or the even rougher man I wanted to be seated next to.
Even now?
I set my fork down and chuckled lightly to myself. I must have had too much wine. It always did hit me harder than rum. I drew up an image of Connell’s signature—his slightly crooked lettering—on the contract comprised with the sole purpose of destroying the Falconer. The sting had become familiar, but it was still raw, and I let it fester just enough to lock down the comparison game I couldn’t stop.
“I hope you realize how genuinely sorry I am for Slade’s behavior.”
“I do, and it matters. Thank you.” I could tell he really meant it and it made a sliver of hope creep into my chest. Maybe I could save the Falconer.
“Tell me more about your site,” he said, as if reading my thoughts.
I couldn’t help but smile. The image of the ship popped in my mind. “She’s beautiful but productive. The Falconer isn’t lazy in the slightest. She’s a site that will produce well into the future if given the chance. We’ve only hit the surface of her potential.”
He took a sip of his wine before setting it down. “A WWII cargo ship, right?”
I nodded enthusiastically. “Do you know it?”
“I googled it on the way over.” He chuckled. “It’s quite a ship, or was.”
“She still is. Pictures on the web don’t do it justice. She really shines under the water.”
“It must be amazing, getting to experience that on a daily basis. Nothing like staring at a computer or stuck in board meetings all day long.”
I picked up
my fork again and slid it through the rice. “It is, and I’ve had just enough time to properly fall in love with it.” I sighed, the thought of her being ripped from my fingers equating the loss of a beloved pet sat heavy on my chest.
“I’m certainly glad I’m not in the Head of Government’s position. I wouldn’t be able to deny you, not with your passion for it.”
A slight flush made my cheeks hot. This was another attempt I read for flirting, though I didn’t understand how he could find me in the least interesting with how different we were. I smiled at him. “Well, Henrick wishes he had never met me on most days. Not that he’d ever admit it.”
“Oh, I doubt that.”
“You’d be surprised. People don’t generally like it when you tell them they’re making a mistake that could put their people’s food source at risk.”
He set his napkin on the table. “I suppose not.”
“Still, if they’d only take me at my word . . . But people always need viable proof.” I eyed him.
He pressed his lips together. “You have me there. Again, I’m sorry I needed all the evidence to take this claim seriously. I never thought he was capable of such . . . disgraceful actions. I assure you, it will be handled.”
“I hope so, Casey. Because I don’t have much time left.”
“Well, I’ve already had your company for more than ten minutes, so I believe we’re off to a wonderful start.”
I laughed, then bit my bottom lip. The Falconer’s deadline flashed in bright red in my mind. “I wish it was as easy to buy time for the Falconer because she is on a dangerously short supply.”
He reached across the table and laid his hand over mine. “Lucky for me I’m extremely wealthy.”
