“Spell it out for me.” I cross my arms.
“The bottom line?” He scratches his cheek. “This project needs to get done on time and on budget and open up just as planned, or we are going to be in a world of hurt.”
“Meaning what, Art?”
“Meaning that if we’re all out of a job, nobody will give a flying fuck what kind of wiring we use, Dane.” He narrows his eyes. “You know how important it is that we get the next bid here in Mapleton. And if we fuck this one up at all, that one’s going to our competitors.”
I put up my hands. “The work’s gotta get done the right way. That’s a hard boundary condition. And if things weren’t that way in the past…” I let my voice trail off.
“I hope you’re not insinuating that my father was anything other than exemplary in his attention to detail.” Art frowns.
“It’s not an insinuation.” Let him make of that what he will.
We stare each other down for a second, then he averts his eyes. “I’ll email you the updated financials, like you asked. But I came here in person to let you know the severity of the situation.” His voice cracks and for a second his eyes look watery.
“You okay?” I raise an eyebrow.
“It’s my allergies, Dane. No, I’m not fucking okay. I need to get my Claritin. And I need to get going.”
“Consider me fully apprised.” I nod to the door. “Careful out there, Art. It’s only getting hotter. Don’t melt.”
He mutters something under his breath, then says, “I’ll need daily updates on the progress for the board.” He makes it sound like a request and a threat at the same time.
“You know me. Love updates,” I grunt.
He doesn’t reply, but raises a hand, and walks back toward the gate, his slacks making swishing noises.
“Put your hat back on,” I call. “Safety first.”
He says something I can’t catch, but sticks the hard hat back on his head as he walks to the gate, only whipping it off when he reaches his car. Tosses it in the back seat. He honks the horn on his sleek BMW twice as he takes off, raising dust.
“Motherfucker.” I groan and head back out to the crew. As I approach, I call out to Hector. “Where do you need me, man?”
I see respect in the way some of the men eye me, and I stand tall. Working with them seems to be helping with motivation and morale, things we need now more than ever here at Danton Carter Construction.
I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge—and right now, this is the biggest one I’ve ever taken on. It will take all of my focus and skills, but I’m confident I can turn this project around and get us back in the black. That is, if I stay on task and don’t allow anything to get us off schedule: Not protestors, not pretty women, nothing.
It shouldn’t be a problem.
***
Talia
“It shouldn’t be a problem.” I force a smile at Mark, and rub my temples, trying to stave away the headache that whispers from behind my eyeballs.
“Because, Taaalia.” He drags out my name, and I’m mesmerized by the way his thin lips move. “When I get a call from the head of security at a well-known construction site, complaining that my minions were harassing the crew, and snuck on-site illegally and not even in the correct safety gear, do you know how that makes me feel?”
“I don’t, Mark. Why don’t you tell me how that makes you feel?” I keep my voice pleasant. Dear sweet Jesus, though, I’m thinking. Just kill me now. Right now. Why do I even do this?
“I’ll tell you what I feel.” He points at me, and the ends of his fingernails, bitten to the quick, repulse me. “I feel that it makes us look a little unhinged. A little too much like PETA for my liking. We are a small and growing environmental group and we are a completely legitimate one.”
Behind his back, Lem mouths along on ‘completely legitimate’, and I put a hand to my mouth to stifle my laughter.
I stare at the bulletin board which is littered with pictures of celebrities who are active in social justice campaigns; these are the people Mark is wooing on a constant basis. It’s like a People Magazine married a National Enquirer and the two of them vomited all of their contents into our office. So far Mark hasn’t succeeded in obtaining a single famous spokesperson for any of our campaigns, but that hasn’t dampened his enthusiasm one bit.
“We follow rules. We advocate for the helpless animals who need us, and we do it one hundred percent within the law of the country. Because otherwise we’re no better than the vicious creeps we protest against.”
“Absolutely.” I want to roll my eyes and smirk, but I can’t. How is this my life? At thirty-two, how did it happen that I spent my valuable free after-work time volunteering in a shitty little strip-mall office full of 70s style modular cubicles, getting lectured by a guy who resembles the naked mole rat he purports to love?
Then I glance over at the photos of the Moorish Crane—excellent photos, ones I took, not that I’m bragging—and it comes back to me: This is why. Because I give a shit about these animals, and because Mark—annoying though he is—also cares.
He frowns. “You know I more than appreciate all of the hours you’ve spent taking photos for us.”
“Yes.”
“And the crane calendars you designed. And I’d hate to lose you.”
“Lose me?” I frown.
“As a valued volunteer. But if you persist in rogue activities, I’ll have no choice but...” He pierces me with his gray eyes.
“Mark, please. I hardly think it’s a rogue activity to seek out the owner of a construction company that’s threatening the habitat of a special local species.”
“We need to be squeaky clean, Talia. That’s how we’re going to set ourselves apart. We can’t grow as an organization and get the funding we need from important donors if we’re not spotless.” Mark coughs. “I’m this close to getting Manda Shine on board. She grew up not too far from this town. Do you know how amazing that would be for Earth First Environmentals? It would put us on the map. And I need all my volunteers to embrace that. Keep the right image.”
I want to tell Mark to fuck himself. And that no way is a big, world-famous star like Manda going to support our dinky efforts here. But I swallow my pride.
“Oh, I can embrace that.” I give him a big smile. Lem and I are going to go for a drink, and I will verbally eviscerate this little weasel as if I were paid to do it.
“Good.” He clears his throat and picks up a picture of a crane. “Because this little guy?” He waves the photo at me. “He’s counting on you.” I think I see tears in his eyes.
The horrible thing is that even though I want to mock him—and oh, I will—I understand the emotion, too. I care about animals and their habitats.
But then I see Mark slide his glance over to another picture; the one featuring the cast of The Walking Dead. And it’s not clear to me whether his tears are because he actually cares about the animals, or because he’s so eager to consort with celebrities.
“I mean, protests are one thing.” He clears his throat. “Protest events we plan as a group. Ahead of time. With my appropriate foresight. And attendees.” His eyes stray to the bulletin board again, and he sniffs. “And this whole incident should never have happened. Remember I told you that we’re focusing on sea lions now, Talia?”
I steeple my fingers and try not to look guilty. Of course I remember. “Well, the legal volunteers, yeah. But as far as I understood, we here in town were still going strong on the crane situation because they’re local, and we’re local, and it makes more sense for us to focus on local—”
“We in town are doing what I say, Talia. Because last time I checked, I manage the resources. We don’t want to mix messages and resources. And right now I might need to take a trip to Monterey Bay, which is going to, as luck would have it, have a film festival this coming weekend! And I can’t be distracted wondering if you’re going to get into trouble.” He coughs. “So I need you to stay away from that s
ite.”
“I will not go back onto that property without an invitation or appropriate safety gear,” I promise Mark.
“Thank you.” His voice is stiff. “Have a wonderful weekend, Talia.”
“Oh, you too.” I grab my purse. “Lem?”
She gets her stuff. “I’ll walk out with you. Later, Mark.”
“Hmmm.” He’s got his laptop open and he’s typing furiously. Probably reaching out to the reps for every celebrity he can think of.
As the door closes behind us, I let out my breath. “I don’t know why I tolerate him, Lem. I swear—”
“I know. I know.” She pats my arm. “Let’s go for a drink at Corndog’s. It’s a new place I want to try.”
“That does not sound like a good name.” I give her a dubious look.
“It’s the best, according to Karla. Corndog Cemetery. It’s a new underground bar and it’s super cool.”
“And they’ll let us in?”
“How could they not?” She waves a hand up and down her body. “We are hotness personified. Also, it’s not like a bouncer situation place. Just, you know, hard to find.”
“Like a secret?”
“More like funky and unusual and sort of difficult to locate, but not actually secret.”
“Then count me in.”
“Consider yourself counted.”
“I do consider myself that.”
“Good, because you are.”
Chapter Three
Talia
“So we go into this Chinese restaurant,” Lem explains, “and through the kitchen. Then we’ll find a door marked ‘No Enter.’ We enter it, go down some stairs, and if we say ‘Corndogs are cool’ at the next door, we get ten percent off a drink. And we get to enter.”
“That sounds so James Bond. Are you sure?” I glance over at the pink neon sign that flashes ‘Happy Yum Noodle’ although the N is burned out. There’s trash on the sidewalk and the whole area has a desolate, run-down feel, although there’s a fair amount of street traffic and pedestrians. Across the street, a parking lot is full of high-end vehicles, but I have no idea where the patrons might be.
“Not entirely. Think of it as an adventure.”
“Why would the restaurant allow people to walk through their kitchen? Isn’t that against the health code?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know that places around here care too much about things like health and code.” She makes air quotes on the words. “They probably get paid a nice little sum from the bar.”
“Well, as a volunteer who just got her non-paying job threatened by a weasel for doing things against protocol, I personally want to say that I care about things like that.”
“Where’s the spitfire who tweaked that lock this morning?” She giggles. “Guess Mr. Hot Ass did review the security tape.”
“It wasn’t even really locked. And I’d like to tell him exactly what I think of him.” I scowl. “Let’s go.” I get out of her car and slam the door, and stand on the sidewalk, inhaling the scent of crispy beef grease. “Jesus, that smells good.”
“Air crack,” Lem agrees. “Even if we don’t find the bar, they probably make a delicious egg roll.”
“That’s the scam. There’s no bar. They suck you in and once you’re there, you’re all, fuck it. I’m already here. Might as well get seven orders of Lo Mein and some Orange Chicken.”
We open the door and push aside a waterfall of beaded strings. The place is dim, heavy on the red and gold and Buddhas. A few people—all Chinese—are eating in booths. Nobody looks up at us, but I feel out of place.
“So, the kitchen?” I raise my eyebrows.
“Yes,” whispers Lem. She takes my hand. “Give me bravery.”
I squeeze her fingers. “You lead the way. I’m tapped out of sass.”
We make our way over to the kitchen. A woman looks up at us from a booth where she’s folding napkins and raises her eyebrows.
I smile, sure that she’s going to stand up and tell us, “Stop.”
But she just nods and goes back to her task, and as we approach the swinging gray door with the round porthole window, my heart starts to hammer. “This is exciting,” I hiss. “We’re really doing this.”
“Ooh, back up.” Lem grabs me by the arm as the door opens, nearly hitting me. “Busy.”
A waiter comes out with a tray of steaming entrees; gives us a quick glance but doesn’t stop.
I peer through the window. “Are there any doors in there? And look how close we’d have to walk to the grease tanks. I don’t know—”
“Let’s just see. We came this far.” Lem pokes me in the back. “Go in.”
“Me? Why should I go first?” But I tentatively push the door. A wave of heat hits me as I step into the narrow galley. A man looks up from chopping onions and gives us a stare, and a row of headless ducks lie naked and pale on a metal slab. There’s no door marked ‘No Enter.’
“Oh, fuck,” I whisper to Lem. “This feels wrong.”
“Yeah.” She bites her lip. “Um, I just remembered. I’m not sure it’s Happy Yum Noodle. Maybe it’s Panda Empire.”
“Lem! Those aren’t even remotely similar.” I grab her hand.
“Can we help you?” A voice from behind us rings out—someone else has entered the kitchen after us.
At first I assume it’s the manager. Except the voice is familiar—and as I turn, the words “I’m sorry, we’re just leaving” on my lips, I recognize who it is.
It’s the guy from the site. Dane. Except right now he’s no longer in his jeans and bare chest. He’s wearing slacks and a dress shirt that hugs his body in all the right places, and holy fucking hell do my eyes pop.
“These are the same two who snuck into my construction site this morning. Not surprised to find them wandering around another place they don’t belong.”
He turns to the guy beside him, a tall man with dark hair, and says something in Chinese, and the two of them laugh loudly. My face burns as they stand in the doorway.
Dane eyes me. “Talia.” When our eyes meet, a spark flares, and I swear, the air between us gets hotter than it already is inside the kitchen.
“Dane. So lovely to see you.” I smile. “Tattling on me again?” I raise my eyebrows and cross my arms.
“Have you done something bad, again?” His voice, rich and low, rolls over me, and I withhold a shudder at the way he says the word bad. His eyes flash at me and he smirks, as if he’s reading the dirty thoughts in my mind.
“Depends on how you define bad,” I retort. Not my best reply ever, but I’m flustered by his eyes. The biceps filling out those sleeves. His narrow hips.
His smile is dangerous. “Why don’t you tell me how you define it.”
“Well, I don’t define it by trying to save a species of bird and its habitat from getting wiped out by a construction company.”
“Perhaps we can continue this conversation in the dining room.” The other man gestures. “Please, ladies. Dane.” His almond-shaped eyes, dark and alert, scan us both, but he gives Lem a second glance. I think he’s incredibly handsome—tall and lean, his suit fits him perfectly.
“Apologies, Bae.” Dane ducks his head. “I’ll take care of the miscreants for you. These intruders happen to be Talia Carlsson and her sidekick—”
“Lem,” adds my friend, sticking out her hand.
“Bae Xo.” He shakes my hand, then takes Lem’s hand, and I think I see her sparkle. He holds her hand for a long second before releasing it. “You know, the guided tour is only a few dollars extra. There’s no need to sneak around.”
“I’m sorry.” Lem steps in a little closer. “We thought there was a secret bar hidden in here.”
“A bar?” Bae raises his brows. “Really.”
“But I was mistaken.”
“So it would seem.” He smirks.
“But I have to say that I’m entirely fascinated by the onion chopping process. And ah, duck cooking.” Lem points to the kitchen.
“Then by all means. Please. Let me take you around.” He bows and takes her elbow. “Yes?”
Lem seems utterly charmed. “I’d love that.” Her voice is low and breathy, and I roll my eyes.
As the two of them disappear behind the swinging door, I look up at Dane. “So.”
“So.” He smiles. “Do you consider this fate?”
“She has off days. It’s possible.” I shrug, pretending that his broad shoulders aren’t doing things to my libido.
He laughs. “Come on, don’t hold a grudge.”
“You called my boss, Dane, at the environmental group where I volunteer. And complained about me.” I scowl at him.
“You were trespassing.” His smiles fades. “Being unsafe. Tampered with a lock, for which I could actually have called the police. Am I incorrect?”
I sigh. “No. It’s just... complicated.”
He tilts his head. “Want to tell me about it? With a formal apology?” There’s a glint in his eye that makes me weak. “Promise not to come back?”
I weigh my options. “If I do, will you help me get a meeting with Danton Carter?”
He hesitates and a strange look passes over his face. “I can’t make any promises.”
“But you’ll consider it?” My heart leaps, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m getting closer to my goal, or because I get to spend time with this man.
He doesn’t reply.
“How about you’ll answer…” I think wildly. “Three questions about him. Deal?”
Finally, he nods.
“Then yes. I would like to apologize.” I smile.
There’s a pause. He’s looking at me expectantly. “Anytime, then.” He pierces me with his stare.
“Oh, you wanted the apology immediately? I thought we’d chat first, work up to it.”
“Right away.” There’s a note to his voice that sets wild butterflies loose in my body, and turns my veins to fire. He’s so dominant right now, like the fantasy man of my dreams. “If it’s a genuine one, of course.” He raises a brow.
Hammered: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Hard n' Dirty Book 5) Page 2
