Hard Pack (Ridden Hard Book 2)

by Allyson Lindt

  “In theory.” Some of Ash’s bravado wilted.

  Tristan wanted to focus on the news. The horrible, astounding information she’d revealed. They had other things to figure out, though. “It doesn’t matter. Or rather, it does, but it doesn’t solve our issue.”

  “But it would feel good,” Ash said.

  “I can’t argue that.”

  “Keep brainstorming. I have to get Kelly. I’ll be back soon.” She kissed Mischa on the cheek and pulled away.

  Mischa tugged her back for a longer kiss, before slapping her ass and shooing her out the door.

  It was a simple exchange. Sweet and genuine. And watching it surged through Tristan with an envy he nearly gagged on.

  He and Mischa turned back to their search for solutions.

  “If the problem is the donation, can’t I file an amended return, and not claim it as a tax deduction after all?” Mischa asked.

  Maybe if anything about this entire transaction were simple. “If that were an option, we would have done it when we first got notice there was an issue.”

  “So I’ll start there, and we’ll cross the next bridge when we come to it.”

  God, it must be nice to just make up shitty solutions and expect everything would turn out for the best anyway. “We’re already crossing it. We’ll deal with it now, because I’m facing prison time.”

  “That’s a worst-case scenario, and you’re being melodramatic,” Mischa said flippantly.

  Tristan wasn’t in the mood to brush this off, or pretend life was that easy. “Maybe if we stopped thinking the worst wasn’t possible, we wouldn’t be in this situation. We should have considered the consequences from the start. You can’t just say this sounds like a swell idea and then do it. That’s why we’re here.”

  Mischa clenched his jaw. “It doesn’t matter that the idea was spontaneous. We did a lot of planning and due diligence after I suggested it, and it was some serious work. You know that.”

  And now he was talking to a brick wall. “Fine. Refile. That’ll fix everything, I’m sure.”

  “I’m not saying it’s the ultimate solution.” Mischa’s voice had shifted to match Tristan’s anger. “If it’s a small victory, it deserves a little recognition.”

  “It’s a bullshit answer, and it’s not any sort of solution, let alone a victory of any size.”

  “Does this have anything to do with why Victoria isn’t here tonight?” Mischa asked.

  The question knocked Tristan off-balance, and his mind skipped a few times, trying to catch up. “Why the fuck would this be about Victoria? This is about a cluster fuck of issues with no solution.”

  “The two of you might not have been so great for each other.”

  Tristan couldn’t believe this was happening. “First, are you fucking kidding me? She and I are bad for each other? Hi Pot, Kettle calling. And second, what does this have to do with the conversation?”

  Mischa shrugged. “You’re distracted and pissy, and it’s not like you. Well, maybe the pissy bit. If clearing your head helps you focus—”

  “Why would she and I be an issue together?” This wasn’t what they should be talking about, but Tristan couldn’t let it drop now.

  “You’re both a bit... high strung.”

  Tristan swallowed a barking laugh. “Did I give you shit for hooking up with someone—and it wasn’t even real when it started—who’s as impulsive as you are?”

  “You like Ash. She does good things for you.” Mischa’s tone was casual, but his posture was tight and coiled.

  “I don’t even know where to start in dissecting that. I like Ash because she’s a good person, and you’re implying you don’t like Victoria.”

  “This is what I’m talking about. You’re all wound up over it, and I’m just trying to have a conversation. She’s done this to you.”

  Tristan was about point-five seconds from throwing a punch. This was why he hadn’t gone to Mischa back then. The man was a stubborn ass, who thought he knew best. “You don’t have any idea who Victoria is.”

  “And you do?” Tristan was done holding back. “You almost destroyed her. You got caught up in your own little world of playing the knight in shining armor, and it nearly tore apart a girl who didn’t have any idea that kindness could be used as a weapon just as easily as cruelty.”

  “Excuse me? You’re blaming me for caring.”

  “No,” Tristan said. “And I’m not saying you’re the only one at fault. She made her decisions, but you sure as fuck didn’t help. Sometimes it’s hard to see the light at the end of your own tunnel when you’re standing next to someone who’s never had to work to find theirs, because it shines so bright.”

  Mischa rolled his eyes. “Fucked up metaphor. But I seemed to do all right next to you.”

  “Excuse me?” Tristan must have misunderstood, because he could only see one meaning in those words.

  “You. The guy who’s never had to work for anything.”

  Tristan let out a barking laugh. “I don’t have any idea how you’re serious right now. Big surprise. I trained every fucking day, from the time I was old enough to walk, with the top coaches in the world. You came along with your shitty homemade board, and like that, you were a superstar.”

  “Do you hear yourself? I didn’t have Mommy and Daddy’s name to propel me to stardom. I earned this. Every single penny I have.”

  “Minimal effort.” Tristan spat out the words. “And I earned it too. You know how my parents are. I built this firm—”

  “We built this firm. And don’t you dare say you did it without any help. Sure, Dad might not have signed over the check for you to open the real estate business, but his money paid for your snowboarding gear. Your coaches. The connections that got you endorsement deals, and contacts willing to take a chance on a real estate start-up when no one else would.”

  “Which all still too work.” Tristan refused to admit he saw the logic in Mischa’s argument. He was raw inside, and that was easy to cling to. “When was the last time you earned something that wasn’t at least in part thanks to a luck roll?”

  “As in, most recently?” Mischa asked. “How about the shitty deal with Wolfram?”

  “Which landed you a wonderful fiancée and an instant family, and placed me in the path of criminal prosecution.”

  “Placed us there. God, you love playing the martyr. The deal also drained me financially. But fine, let’s step back a couple of years. To when I was dating a woman I was infatuated with, and suddenly the tabloids labeled me a predator. My name still comes up in conversations as the guy who ruined America’s sweetheart when she was barely more than jailbait. Because I met a pretty girl in a bar. We didn’t do anything wrong. Neither of us. Doesn’t matter how many times anyone says otherwise, Victoria and I were both feeling our way through life.

  “Or let’s go back to pre-Victoria days. When I broke a contract to keep my likeness from being used in ways I didn’t agree with. And people still call me the guy who can’t handle a business deal. The Wolfram situation didn’t help.”

  Tristan opened his mouth, but Mischa talked over him. “But sure. Go ahead and focus on the fact I have natural skill when it comes to skateboarding. Ignore that maybe my competition wasn’t as tough as yours, or that I don’t have to rely on weather to ride the halfpipe. Blame me for finding a woman I love who feels the same. That all makes my life way luckier than yours. In every sense of the word.” Sarcasm oozed from his voice.

  “Thanks for twisting my words and making this about you.” Some of the fight had evaporated from Tristan, and he struggled to ignore the nagging that insisted Mischa might have a point.

  “I think we’re done for the night.” Ash’s voice sliced through the tension in the room. “You need to leave.”

  Tristan whirled to see her standing in the doorway, her face etched into a furious mask.

  He nodded. “I think that’s a good idea.” He didn’t look back as he stormed to his car. He started the engine, more
furious at himself than Mischa. He didn’t like this feeling at all.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  VICTORIA DIDN’T KNOW what to do with herself. Desperation clawed at her mind, begging for a distraction, but she couldn’t find one that worked.

  The first couple of days of her suspension, she cleaned the apartment. Twice. Not that it was a mess to begin with.

  That kept her hands busy, but not her brain. The loud music helped, until the neighbors complained.

  She turned her attention to online window shopping. Picking out baby items she couldn’t afford. Her fingers inched toward her phone a couple of times, to send Tristan a link to something. Ask if he liked it better in yellow or pale green.

  Which was an odd impulse, since they’d never shopped for baby items before.

  But he had names picked out. Alexandria if it was a girl. She liked the sound of it. What would it have been if it were a boy? She’d know soon.

  Would she tell Tristan? She wanted to. Wanted him there when she found out. But no. That might look bad. She could tell Ash, right?

  A surge of anger welled inside. No one had questioned that relationship. No one ever brought up that she and Ash were friends. Rationally it made sense. Nothing was in Ash’s name. On the surface, Ash didn’t get anything out of this.

  Because peace of mind didn’t matter in a case like this, and no one would want to believe she’d done it to spite a wealthy businessman.

  It wasn’t Ash’s fault though. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. That was what Victoria hated the most, after how much it hurt to miss Tristan. No one had done anything wrong. It just looked bad on paper.

  She reached for her phone again, and stopped herself before dialing Tristan’s number. She called Ash instead.

  “Hey, stranger.” Ash’s greeting was cheerful but guarded.

  “Are you busy? Or rather, do you have any free time in the next day or so?” Victoria didn’t want to sound desperate, but she was. Did it matter if that showed? Not here. At least that was a relief.

  “Yes.” Ash sounded relieved. “As in, yes, I’m free. No, I’m not busy. Do you want me to come over now?”

  “That would be awesome. Bring lots of ice cream?”

  “You got it.”

  Ash arrived about half an hour later, and held up a plastic grocery bag. It was stuffed with pints of ice cream. “I forgot to ask what flavor you liked.”

  “I’m sure it won’t go to waste.” Victoria grabbed one handle from her and peeked inside. “Which one is yours?”

  “This one.” Ash pointed to the Phish Food. “Or maybe this one.” It was something with cherry chunks in it. “Or... okay, I’ll eat any of them. You should probably pick first.”

  This was good. It didn’t chase away the clawing in Victoria’s head, but it made it easier to turn to background noise. She tugged Ash inside and toward the kitchen.

  Victoria grabbed two spoons from the drawer and handed her one. “Close your eyes and pick. I’ll do the same, and the rest will go in the freezer.”

  “I like the way you think.”

  Ash ended up with mint cookie, and Victoria grabbed something with too many flavors for her to remember if she wasn’t reading the label.

  They collapsed on the couch at opposite ends, facing each other.

  “You sounded kind of desperate to come over,” Victoria said as she dug into her ice cream. She’d called Ash to talk, but now that she had a grasp on clearer thought, she wasn’t eager to dive back into what was bothering her.

  Ash scowled. “Kelly is at her friend’s for the weekend and Mischa is grumpy. He’s not taking it out on me, but he won’t deal with it either, and it’s oppressive.”

  That didn’t sound like Mischa. Nothing fazed him. “Grumpy why?”

  “He broke up with his boyfriend.” Ash stuck her tongue out.

  Victoria laughed, but it ached in her chest. “Hey, me too. Something else he and I have in common.”

  Ash’s smile was twisted. “That explains what the tipping point was. I didn’t know you two were serious.”

  “We weren’t.” Victoria tried to wash down the bitter lie with a spoonful of ice cream. “At least, if anyone asks, that’s the official answer. The details are... complicated.” Were they really? This entire affair was complicated, but what she felt for Tristan seemed simple.

  “What happened?”

  Victoria shook her head. “I can’t. I want to, but I don’t know how to explain. You first.”

  “I didn’t catch it all. Some sort of pissing match about which one of them had a tougher life.”

  “Sounds serious.” She wasn’t sure if she meant that, but from either of their perspectives, she could see where the contention would be.

  “I’m assuming they’ll kiss and make up eventually. They’ve been together for what... twenty years?”

  It almost felt ludicrous to put an anniversary date on Tristan and Mischa’s friendship, but Victoria liked the distraction. “High school, so they were about fourteen? Twenty-three years.”

  “Almost as long as we’ve been alive.” Ash twisted her mouth. “How fucked up is that?”

  “You’re kidding, right? That’s about the most normal thing happening here.”

  “What happened between you two? Only what your comfortable sharing.”

  Victoria stared at her ice cream, then prodded at a fudge chunk, digging around it and extracting it while she gathered her thoughts. “Off the record?”

  “Always.”

  “We hooked up a few times. That was all it was supposed to be. And then suddenly it was more.” Victoria’s heart stalled on the word more. How much more? She’d hesitated to delve too deep.

  It was easy enough to say she was falling, because that was generic. The attraction to Tristan had always been there. But now she knew the person, not just the gorgeous man with the cold eyes.

  She’d gone past falling and landed flat on her face. This was something she’d never felt before. Not with Mischa, or anyone. A desire that ran so deep it scared her to think of exploring it, and terrified her that she might have lost it.

  “And now it’s over?” Ash said.

  Yes. No. Probably. Victoria hoped not. “Everyone is asking questions, because of this investigation. Who’s the father of my baby? What did the firm get out of donating the building? What did I get out of it?”

  “A headache, as far as I can tell.”

  “Pretty much,” Victoria said dryly.

  Ash put the lid on her ice cream, and set it on the coffee table. Victoria wanted to wince at the pool of condensation that formed on the glass, but right now rings on the table didn’t seem significant.

  “A lot of people look for the easy solution, or a single person to point the blame at, whenever something big happens.” Ash leaned in, elbows on her knees. “I don’t usually agree with this, but right now, I’m pointing a big, accusing finger—one of those novelty foam ones—at my dad.”

  “Too bad that’s not a solution.”

  Ash shrugged. “That’s what everyone keeps saying, but there’s a freedom in knowing. He fucked with me, too. I wish I could help you the way you did for me and Kelly. But here’s the thing... Before that, I almost left Mischa over it.”

  “But you two are so perfect together.” Victoria expected the words to hurt. A few months ago, she never thought she’d say that about Ash. “He watches you like you’re his universe.”

  Pink spread across Ash’s cheeks. “I didn’t think I deserved that. I didn’t believe he saw me for me. I thought it might make things go more smoothly for him with my dad. I pushed him away, because I got so jumbled up in other people’s opinions, that I lost track of my own.”

  “This isn’t the same.”

  “I know,” Ash said. “Jobs and jailtime on the line. I’ve heard. Mischa told me he and Tristan were fighting over you. At least, that’s where it started.”

  Victoria stalled on the news. “Why?”

  “Like I mentioned, I don�
�t have all the details. He said Tristan was defending you, though.”

  Victoria didn’t have a response. She grabbed both their half-finished pints of ice cream and shoved them back in the freezer, then returned to the couch, searching for words that wouldn’t come.

  “Are you excited?” Ash asked.

  “About?”

  Ash nodded at her stomach. “The baby.”

  “Yes.” The answer had never come so quickly before. This was a change in subject Victoria could do. Her hand rested on her stomach. “So very much.”

  “We have to go shopping. Pick out clothes and bedding and everything.”

  Victoria appreciated the enthusiasm, but she couldn’t push some boundaries of this friendship. “I don’t have the same bank account you do.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Ash grinned. “I can show you all the best second-hand shops in town, that will make it look like you decorated straight out of a Pottery Barn catalog.”

  “All right. I’m in.” Victoria felt hope climbing past the grief that had set up show inside. There was still that empty, gnawing pit where Tristan should be and wasn’t.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  TRISTAN DIDN’T WANT to be in the office and working. Not because it was Saturday, but because he wanted to be with Victoria. Exploring what they had. Figuring out what came next. Planning a family.

  There was that word again. That thing he’d wanted for so long, that always seemed just out of his grasp. Family. It had been so close this time, and now, gone again.

  Mischa was right that he was being a little melodramatic. But right now, with solutions universes away, it was hard to see the alternative.

  He was going to use what Ash told him, and figure out how to get out of this. He didn’t have any idea, but it would be more than just paying him back early for a loan he thought he could foreclose on, then donating one of those buildings to spit him.

  This would be the same hard core fucking retaliation the man tried to point at Tristan.

  Except he still didn’t know how it helped.

  Tristan grunted in frustration and raked his fingers through his hair. He’d been staring at numbers and documents and contracts so long, his eyes felt like they were going to fall out of his head.