The Experiment

by Holly Hart

  “Hey, boss.”

  Ben Dern, my head of security, pours himself a cup of coffee from the pot my personal assistant always keeps hot. “How was that business trip to Brazil?”

  “It went about how I expected.” I stop beside him and grab a cup for myself. “A few hiccups, just like always, but I closed the deal and made the company a tidy profit.”

  “I should have gone with you,” Ben grumbles. “Rio is full of all sorts of crazies.”

  I roll my eyes. A former Navy SEAL, Ben’s a great bodyguard. His only flaw is that he’s a bit too committed. He finds it nearly impossible to separate himself from the job and feels that he needs to personally handle every single security issue that comes up.

  “Dillon and Chase kept me safe and sound.” I clap a free hand to his shoulder. “Besides, it was your little girl’s birthday. You needed to be here for that.”

  “Three is hardly a milestone birthday.” Ben’s expression doesn’t change, but now there’s more than a hint of warmth in his tone. He dotes on his little girl.

  “I bet Becky wouldn’t agree with you.” I glance at my PA’s empty desk chair. “Speaking of people who don’t agree with others, where’s Janet?”

  It’s not like my super-efficient, often cantankerous secretary to not be at her desk, already hard at work when I walk into the office.

  “She ran downstairs. Said something about a meeting with somebody in human resources. She didn’t give me any details and I sure wasn’t about to ask.”

  Under most circumstances, the fact that Ben, a wide-shouldered former Navy SEAL who is diligent about staying in shape, is scared to death, completely intimidated by Janet, who is barely five foot two in the kitten heels she loves to wear – and who weighs maybe a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet, would be funny. But since I also don’t dare take a step out of line when it comes to my uber-efficent, super organized, blunt speaking PA, I’m not in a position to say anything one way or another.

  “Wish I could have gone with her,” I mutter, my thoughts returning to the pretty redhead as I turn and let myself into my own office.

  “What?” Ben asks, following close at my heels.

  “Oh, nothing. Just trying to get back into the swing of things.” The office door clicks closed behind us. My hip bumps against the side of my phone as I sit on the corner of my desk and face Ben. “Did anything happen while I was gone that I need to deal with?”

  “Not really.” Ben consults his phone, looking at the notes he’s made. “I hired two new guys for the second shift detail. Both ex-military, both have excellent references. If they’re half as good as I think they are, it won’t take them long to start advancing. I took a look at the Pasadena branch and I think it’s time you and I talk about setting up a new security system there. The one they’ve got is outdated.”

  I nod. None of this is anything I need to worry about.

  “Antony Lopez is the head of security for the company I just bought in Brazil. He seems like a good man,” I tell Ben. “He’s supposed to touch base with you today and tomorrow and fill you in on the current security details there. I’ll leave it up to you to decide how to handle it.”

  “Okay, boss,” Ben says. “But there’s one more thing. It’s about your brother.”

  The muscles in my stomach tighten. My heart stops for a second, only to start beating twice as fast. “What about him?”

  “I got a call from the Colorado Department of Corrections two days ago.” Ben hesitates and my tension grows. Ben isn’t the kind of guy to sugarcoat anything, no matter how bad the news is.

  “And?”

  “Apparently there’s an overcrowding probl-”

  My office door springs open, slams against the wall, and nearly rebounds into the pockmarked face of the man who shoved it.

  “Mr. Caldwell, I need to speak to you right now.”

  58

  Jeremy

  In one smooth motion, moving so quickly it is nearly impossible to believe he was standing, facing me and completely relaxed when the door started opening, Ben spins around, bends his knee into a fighting stance, and whips his Glock out of his hip holster. His finger lays alongside the trigger as he points the barrel at the intruder’s right shoulder.

  “Who the hell are you?” Ben demands, his icy tone sending chills racing up my spine. “And what the hell do you want?”

  The blood drains out of the face of the middle-aged, slightly overweight man. He slowly extends his hands above his head. Sweat beads on his temples.

  “I’m … I’m…” The man closes his eyes and swallows hard. Staring down the barrel of a gun that’s in the hands of a former soldier who’s not afraid to use it is too much for him. He’s forgotten his own name.

  Worried that he’ll have a heart attack if something doesn’t quickly change, I slide off the desk and put myself between my head of security and the interloper.

  “Back off, Ben,” I murmur before turning my attention to the man standing half in and half out of my office. He’s starting to pant. There’s something about him that tickles the back of my brain. I know this guy. I just have to figure out how, and that should lead me to his name.

  Folding my mouth into my brightest, most welcoming smile, I cross the room and clap a hand on his thick shoulder. “Please.” I nudge him toward my desk. “Take a seat and catch your breath. Then you can tell me why you need to see me.”

  As the man settles his bulk into the chair, I make my way around the desk, casting a glance over my shoulder at Ben. He hasn’t returned the gun to its holster, but at least he’s lowered it, holding it so that it’s pointed toward the ground.

  I roll my eyes before settling into my own chair and meeting the stranger’s eyes across the desk. Just like that, the memory of how I know him bounces to the forefront of my brain. I can’t recall his name, but at least I understand the connection we share.

  “You’re married to Lydia …” I pause, waiting for the last name of the charismatic woman who makes up part of the company’s legal team to come to me. “Halpert? Right? We met at the company party last summer.”

  Since taking over the company from my brother, I’ve made a point of meeting the spouses of my employees during company events. It just seems like the kind of thing an employer should do.

  The man across from me nods. “We got married nine months ago. I’m Harvey.”

  Across the room, Ben relaxes slightly. The connection makes the man seem a bit less like a security threat.

  “Has something happened to her? Is that why you’re here?” I ask.

  “No.” The man shakes his head and takes a deep breath. He seems to be relaxing a bit. “She’s fine.”

  “Then why are you here?” I press, working hard to keep my tone as mild as possible.

  “I’m a lawyer.” He says it plainly, like the words explain his sudden appearance in my office. They don’t.

  “Okay? Are you interested in working for me, Harvey?”

  “No.” Harvey shakes his head. “Well, yes, working for you would be great. Lydia is always going on and on about how she’s never worked for a better company. But I’m not interested in making a career change, at least not yet.”

  I rest my elbows on my desk and steeple my fingers while I wait for him to continue.

  “I work for the state, providing legal advice for inmates in the Colorado prison system.”

  A tight knot forms in my stomach. I glance up at Ben, who frowns and edges closer.

  “And?” I force the word out, despite the fact that every single instinct tells me I’m going to hate what he’s about to tell me.

  “I know your brother. Well, I don’t know him; obviously he can afford a top notch legal team and doesn’t bother with state-provided lawyers like myself. But I do know who he is, and I—Please don’t tell anyone I’m telling you this. The Bar Association could revoke my license if they find out. The last time I was at the prison, I overheard part of a conversation he had with one of his lawyers.”
>
  “Go on.” This is like passing a bad wreck on the highway: as much as I don’t want to hear what he’s going to tell me, I can’t help myself from pressing him on.

  “It has to do with the ownership of the company,” Harvey explains.

  “I own forty-nine percent and Evan owns forty-nine percent.”

  My father, who passed a few weeks after Evan was arrested, kept hold of the rest. I never found out what happened to the missing shares of the company. At the time of his death, I was doing everything in my power to undo a great deal of the damage my brother had done to the company and didn’t have time to pay attention to the terms of the will. I’ve always assumed he gave it to one of his nieces or nephews and figured that the accounting department made sure whoever it was got their share of the yearly profit.

  “Based on what I overheard, your father decided that whichever of you gets married and has a child first will be the one who gets the share certificates.”

  I blink. It takes a moment for the words to sink in. “You’re kidding.”

  “That’s what I heard,” Harvey says, “but you’ll want to check it out for yourself.”

  “I will,” I say.

  “I don’t know what the big deal is,” Ben suddenly says, startling both Harvey and myself. We’ve forgotten we aren’t the only ones in the room. “Evan is in prison and if I remember correctly, he still has a few years before he’s up for parole, so he won’t be getting married anytime soon, much less fathering a child.”

  Harvey shakes his head. “I’m not so sure about that. The prisons are really overcrowded and the state’s taking drastic measures. They’re keeping it pretty quiet, but at the end of the month, they’re going to let some prisoners go early. It’s my understanding that since he’s been locked up, Evan has been a model prisoner, and, between that and his connections, he’s going to be one of the first ones turned loose.”

  Just when I thought things couldn’t get worse.

  “Shit,” Ben hisses under his breath, giving voice to my exact thoughts.

  My eyes meet Harvey’s. “Why did you come here to tell me about this?” I’m not sure what lawyers are and aren’t allowed to do with information they overhear, but there’s no doubt in my mind that by coming to me, Harvey is taking a big risk with his career. I’ll do everything in my power to ensure it doesn’t come back to bite him in the butt.

  “Lydia told me how things used to be when your brother ran this place. I’d do anything for her, including taking steps to make sure that she continues to enjoy the same happy and safe work environment she tells me you provide.”

  Harvey’s expression is sober, but his tone is firm. There’s no doubt in my mind that this is a man who is head over heels in love with his wife and is more than happy to lay it all on the line for her. I wonder what that feels like, how that changes a man.

  “Thank you.” I stand and extend my arm across the desk, grasping Harvey’s hand and shaking it. “I won’t forget what you’ve done for me.”

  “If you have any questions, or need anything at all from me, don’t hesitate to ask.” Harvey pushes himself to his feet and pats his pockets before nodding at a piece of paper on my desk. “May I?”

  Reading the direction of his thoughts, I grab a pen and pass it to him. “Of course.”

  He scribbles his name and cell phone number on the paper and passes it to me. “Give me a call any time of the day or night and I’ll do anything I can.”

  “Thank you,” I murmur.

  “Thank you for hearing me out,” Harvey says with a small smile. He turns to leave, hesitating when his gaze lands on Ben. “And thank you for not shooting me.”

  Ben grins. He might be a big, tough guy, but he also has a pretty good sense of humor. “Knowing I can still scare guys is thanks enough. Take care.”

  I wait until the door swings closed behind Harvey before meeting Ben’s eyes. “What the hell am I going to do?”

  59

  Evan

  Colorado State Prison

  The cell is small, dark, and depressing. The only things in the tiny space are a thin, narrow mattress and a stainless-steel toilet. Solitary confinement cells aren’t meant to be cheerful or distracting; they’re designed to give the prisoner nothing to do but think about their actions and decide that they’ll never do such a damn-fool thing again.

  They’re also the perfect place when you need to hold a little meeting that you don’t want many people to know about…

  I tip my head back and study the cameras in the corners. Normally, when a prisoner is tossed into this boring little space, the cameras are turned on and a guard is assigned to watch the feed, making sure the prisoner doesn’t try to off himself. Officially, I’m not supposed to be in here. I bribed a guard to let me in, so the cameras shouldn’t be on, but I have no way of knowing if that’s true. And, to be completely honest, I don’t give a rat’s ass one way or another. It won’t be my reputation that’s destroyed if someone finds out what I’m about to do in this place.

  Most people think getting thrown into prison is the worst possible thing that could happen to them. My father did, and there’s no doubt in my mind that my twin brother Jeremy, with his high moral standards and oh-so-charmed existence, believes it, but that’s not true. Getting my ass tossed into prison has been the best possible thing that could have ever happened to me.

  Spending the past six years stuck in a small, boring cell where my every move is monitored, analyzed, and considered, taught me to really plan for the future and to consider things from every possible angle. My time as a guest of the state has cooled my hot temper, turning me into a guy who doesn’t make a single move without first weighing every possible angle and coming up with the best plan. My time in here has taught me the value of patience, good planning, and helped me make some connections.

  I’ve also learned how valuable and motivating fear is.

  When I finally walk out of this place, I fully intend to put every single one of those lessons to good use. The world won’t know what hit it.

  Catcalls catch my attention. There’s only one thing that gets my fellow prisoners that worked up. A woman on the floor.

  I cross my arms over my chest and wait. Over the past six years I’ve gotten very good at waiting.

  A hesitant knock comes from the other side of the door.

  “Come,” I call out.

  It takes a long time for the handle to turn. I imagine the inner battle raging through the person on the other side and grin. I’m sure they think they’re between a rock and a hard place, but I know better. They may think they have a choice, but they don’t. I hold all the cards.

  Finally, the door swings open, revealing the woman on the other side.

  Her eyes meet mine. She blanches but still walks farther into the cell and quietly closes the door behind her.

  With just a little effort, she’d be beautiful. But between the unflattering light, the few extra pounds she’s carrying, and the dark half moons rimming the underside of her eyes, she won’t turn any heads. But I don’t care. In fact, her current state of exhaustion works in my favor.

  “Sheila, you’re late,” I say without breaking eye contact.

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice is completely devoid of emotion. “I was caught up with a prisoner.”

  In two strides, I cross the room and pin her against the closed door. I trap her chin between my fingers. “I refuse to come second to any other man, do you understand?”

  She nods as much as my grip allows. “Yes.”

  I hold her in position a second longer before backing away. “Good. Did you bring the contract?”

  She pulls a thin piece of paper out of her pocket, but instead of handing it to me, she clutches it to her chest.

  My eyes narrow. “I hope you’re not having second thoughts.” I can’t force her into signing the contract, and if she backs out, there are other women who will take her place, but finding one that has the right personality, the right look, and is in
the right set of bad circumstances takes time, and right now, that’s time I’m not willing to spend. I want to get this project underway – and I want it underway today.

  “I … I just think … isn’t there another way?” Her voice trembles and her dark green eyes gleam with unshed tears. “This all seems so … I don’t know, Victorian.”

  “Another way?” I bite out the words. “Haven’t you had enough time to find another way? Your son needs medical care, care you aren’t in a position to provide him, and certainly not without spending money you don’t have on either better health insurance or medical treatments.”

  “But—” Sheila starts to protest.

  “I have the money you need to ensure that your brat gets the help he needs.” I reach out a hand, placing it on her lower belly and squeezing. “And you have something I need.” She flinches and tries to squirm away from my touch, but the door again blocks her retreat. “Now give me the damn contract.”

  She hands the paper to me. I unfold it and read through the bullet points. The terms are harsh, but they’re clear and – there’s nothing illegal in it. Not really. Once we’ve signed it, the only way she’ll be able to back out is by paying a huge personal price.

  I hold out a hand. “Pen.”

  She digs one out of her pocket and slaps it into my palm. I spread the paper out on the door, holding it just an inch from her ear as I sign on the dotted line.

  “Your turn.”

  I step back enough for her to turn and sign the paper. Her signature’s shaky, but it’s legit. I take the paper and return her pen. “As soon as we’re done here, I’ll get this to my lawyer and he’ll file it.”

  She nods.

  I glance at the thin cot and smile. “Might as well make yourself comfortable.”

  She follows the direction of my gaze, translates the meaning of my words, and grows even paler. “Here?” she squeaks. “Now?”