Change of Harte (Harte, #2) (Harte Series)

by Harris, Brooke

  A lack of further knocking coincided with the door opening, and Julian was a little surprised to see Nathan standing in the gap. Julian stood up and walked around to the front of his desk. Unscheduled visits generally pissed him off, especially when the visitor was a guy. Julian leaned back against his desk, stretched his lean legs out, and crossed them at the ankle. He rested, eying Nathan up, and waited for him to speak. Nathan took a couple of steps forward but stopped way too far back from Julian to have a conversation without the need to raise his voice. Julian was in no mood for a game of Cat and Mouse today.

  ‘Hello, Nate. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?’

  Nathan cleared his throat and took a few more small steps forward. ‘It’s Nathan,’ he mumbled. ‘I was hoping we could have a quick word if you’re not too busy, of course.’

  Julian shrugged casually. ‘Sure, Nat-HAN, I’m all ears.’

  ‘You might want to sit down,’ Nathan suggested.

  Julian laughed.

  ‘I have a confession,’ Nathan said, looking a lot like he was the one who needed to sit down.

  Julian laughed again—louder this time. ‘Like I said, you have my attention.

  Julian had a good idea where Nathan was going with this, and even though he wouldn’t admit it, he was quite enjoying the exchange.

  ‘I’m a writer with the National Informer, Julian. I’ve been working undercover for the last six months.’

  Julian clasped his hands and stretched his fingers, wiggling them back and forth. He had waited a few exaggerated moments before he smiled. ‘You may want to rethink the undercover part. I’ve known who you are for a least five of those six long months.’

  Nathan pulled a face. Julian didn’t expect Nathan to believe him, but it didn’t alter the truth. In fact, he’d quite enjoyed wasting Nathan’s time. Julian’s company affairs were tighter than the virgin’s pussy he’d broken in last week. He paid the best accounts and legal team in the country to make damn sure of that. Nathan wouldn’t find shit on him. He was so squeaky clean he practically glowed in the dark.

  ‘And you’re coming clean now because you think you have something on me?’ Julian said.

  Nathan stepped back dramatically, as if worried his face was a target for Julian’s fist. Julian had to concentrate not to laugh again; the thought hadn’t even entered his head. Well, not right now anyway. If he were going to punch Nathan, it wouldn’t be in his own office. He wasn’t going to give Nathan a juicy ‘’Boss Assaults Intern’’ headline.

  ‘Sort of,’ Nathan replied, still edging further away.

  ‘You sort of have a story. Wow, I’d say your editor must bloody love you.’

  ‘It’s not what you think. I’m not investigating the financial side of things. This is more a more…um…a more personal piece.’

  Julian snorted. ‘I’m not sure if I’m more flattered or irritated that you’re obsessed with my life.’

  ‘Well, you have to admit…’ Nathan paused and Julian imagined he was searching for the right words to put it delicately. He needn’t have bothered. Nothing he could say would offend Julian.

  ‘…this place is off-the-scale unorthodox,’ Nathan finished.

  Julian nodded. ‘I don’t do conventional. But anyone who steps inside these doors,’ Julian pointed to the double doors of his office, ‘knows the score.’

  ‘But what about the ones who get hurt?’

  Nathan didn’t say her name but Julian’s mind immediately raced toward Eva.

  ‘Getting hurt is just part of being an adult. My life is sex, drink, repeat, and I make no apologies for that.’

  ‘And no apologies for the people you hurt?’

  Julian’s eyes narrowed and his back teeth grinded. ‘None.’

  A restless silence followed and Julian studied Nathan for a moment—the way he straightened his tie every twenty seconds, the twitch in this jaw, the nervous folding and unfolding of his arms. They were just scratching the surface, Julian decided. ‘C’mon, man. My choice of lifestyle is old news. It won’t sell papers. Don’t bullshit me. I know you’re fishing for something else.’

  ‘What makes you think I was talking about the girls who drop their knickers as soon as you snap your fingers? Messed up as that logic is, you’re right, it won’t sell papers.’

  Nathan’s twitching jaw was becoming distracting. He was holding his ground well, but he wasn’t fooling Julian.

  Julian glanced at his watch. His schedule for the morning was relaxed and Nathan had piqued his interest enough for him to entertain this nonsense for a little longer.

  ‘Drink,’ Julian said; it was a statement not a question.

  Nathan nodded.

  Julian leaned back a little further and pressed a button on his desk phone. ‘Shell, bring in the bottle I left in the cabinet behind your desk, will you, please?’

  Julian drummed his fingers against his desk and the rhythm echoed in the oversized office as both men waited for Shelly. Julian smiled as she entered, clutching a cut glass decanter filled with a clear liquid. Julian loved Poitin, but he rarely dabbled with the stuff. A little more than two glasses was enough to knock a grown man out cold, Julian included. But if there were ever a time he longed for the fiery flavour of the truth syrup disguised as alcohol, this was it.

  Julian couldn’t miss the look of disgust Shelly shot Nathan as she brushed past him and slammed the decanter against Julian’s desk with a loud thud. The force knocked the stopper off and Julian caught it just before it crashed against the floor. Shelly didn’t acknowledge the accident, and Julian simply placed the stopper on his desk carefully so it didn’t roll onto the floor and said nothing. Instead, he stared at Nathan. If the prick were messing Shelly about, Julian would beat the shit out of him. Right there in his office and fuck any headline. But not now. Right now, he needed Nathan conscious and telling him exactly what in the hell he knew.

  Shelly stepped to the side and Julian didn’t ask her to leave.

  ‘Glasses,’ Julian said, flicking his eyes toward a shelf above his bureau.

  Shelly hurried to hand Julian a couple of designer crystal tumblers.

  ‘Are you a teetotaller this morning, Shell?’ Julian asked, noticeably casual considering the atmosphere in the room.

  Shelly smiled and reached for a third glass. Julian splashed a little Poitin into each glass. A little less in Shelly’s and a little more in Nathan’s than in his own. He raised his arm until his glass was slightly higher than his head and waited for the others to follow suit.

  ‘Sláinte,’ Julian said knocking back the entire drink in one go.

  ‘Sláinte,’ Nathan and Shelly echoed, struggling somewhat to force the alcohol down their throats.

  Shelly pulled a face, blew a raspberry, and handed her glass, still half-full, back to Julian. He laughed. Nathan finished his, albeit in a lot more than one gulp, but Julian was impressed nonetheless.

  Julian poured himself another drink, switching to whiskey this time. He moved to the couch at the side of the room and waited for the others to follow. His elbows rested on his knees, with his hands clasped together. His thumbs hooked under his lowered chin and his pointed index fingers slowly ran up and down the bridge of his nose. His eyes fixed on Nathan’s every move, barely taking the time to blink. ‘All right, Nate. You have my full attention. Would you like to tell me what the fuck is going on?’

  Nathan sat without Julian asking him to. The alcohol had worked to relax him, as intended.

  ‘Cameron Andrews has a parole hearing on Monday. And I have it on good authority that he’ll be released.’

  Julian stood up. ‘Bollocks. He’s serving twenty-five years for attempted murder. He hasn’t even served half of that yet.’

  Now Shelly sat. Silent.

  ‘I can’t get my hands on all the details. Their justice system over there is like a fucking maze. But my source tells me that he has some sort of arrangement with the FBI.’

  Julian placed his drink on the coffe
e table in front of them. Suddenly, a clear head was very important. ‘Source?’

  ‘I can’t divulge who. But why do I think you already knew that?’

  Julian smiled. Nathan was slowly moving up in his expectation.

  ‘He sold out his cellmate. Some sick drug mule who put a couple of his mates under the foundation of his dodgy nightclub, apparently.’

  Julian raised his eyebrows and rubbed his wrinkled brow. ‘So, Cameron gave the cops the information they needed.’

  Nathan nodded enthusiastically. Julian could see the passion for the story in Nathan’s eyes. He hadn’t managed to fool Julian completely, but he had thrown him a bit. It was as impressive as it was infuriating.

  ‘And what? It was just that simple?’ Julian said, still rubbing his forehead. ‘The mule just confessed over coffee and a fig roll?’

  ‘Of course, it wasn’t simple.’

  Nathan’s tone irritated Julian and his eyes narrowed to express to Nathan as much.

  ‘I mean, it was a long process. It took three months. And he risked his life wearing a wire. If the mule had caught on, he’d have ripped Cameron’s head off, right there in his cell.’

  ‘When the mule’s mates on the outside find out, they’ll rip his head off anyway. The man has given himself a death sentence.’ Julian shook his head. It didn’t make any fucking sense.

  ‘Stupid bastard,’ Nathan said. ‘But, in a couple of days, he’s going to be a free, stupid bastard. And I want the story.’

  ‘Fucking hell,’ Julian spat, thinking aloud. Cameron Andrews certainly had balls. Eva had inherited that despite her father’s best attempts to beat it out of her. ‘Why are you telling me all this?’

  Nathan looked at Shelly, and for the first time since she’d walked into the room, she made eye contact with him. ‘Because he’s Eva’s father. And Shelly says, despite what you say and do, you love her. If that’s true, I thought you deserved to know.’

  Julian didn’t flinch. He didn’t look at Shelly, either, even though he could feel her eyes burning into him. He didn’t acknowledge or deny the rumour. He did, however, pick up his drink and knock it back in one uncomfortable gulp.

  ‘You do know the first thing he’s going to do is look for her, don’t you?’

  ‘Eva? I doubt it,’ Nathan said. ‘He wouldn’t even know where to begin.’

  Julian ran his hand over his hair. ‘And for a second there, I almost thought you were good at your job. I can assure you, Nat-HAN, he already knows.’

  Julian turned his back to both Shelly and Nathan as his mind raced to process. He turned back to face Shelly, ignoring how Nathan studied his every move.

  ‘Have you booked your flights yet?’

  ‘Yeah, of course. Sure I’m going in a little over a week.’

  ‘Cancel them.’

  ‘What? Julian, that’s not fair,’ Shelly squealed. ‘You already said it was okay to take time off. I know this is huge but…’

  Julian closed his eyes and raised his hand with his palm turned toward Shelly. His patience was wilting. Shelly stopped talking instantly.

  ‘When did he tell you?’ Julian pointed to Nathan but he was looking at Shelly.

  Neither of them replied.

  ‘I’m guessing this is as new to you as it is to me, Shelly. Since you two were all loved up yesterday and right now you look like you want to smash that decanter across my desk and slit his throat with it.’

  ‘I wouldn’t go quite that far,’ Shelly said. ‘But yeah, I only just found out he works for the paper, and yeah, I’m pretty pissed about it.’

  Julian grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his desk chair and put it on, interrupting the argument that had erupted between Shelly and Nathan. He slid his mobile out of his inside jacket pocket and hit call on his speed dial. ‘I need to be in the air. Newark. I’ll be there in an hour. Have my plane ready. Make this happen.’

  ‘New York,’ Shelly corrected. ‘She hasn’t been back to Jersey yet.’

  Julian sighed, unsurprised. ‘Make that JKF,’ he mumbled into the phone and hung up.

  Julian looked back at Shelly, who was pouting like a spoilt child. ‘Are you ready?’

  ‘What? Me? Like now? You can’t be serious?’

  Julian didn’t reply, but his whole body shouted that he wasn’t joking. Shelly raced out to her desk and began throwing random shit into her bag at whirlwind speed. Even the stapler made its way in. Julian shook his head but didn’t even ask.

  He eyed Nathan up and down. ‘You too, Clark Kent. Let’s go. Now!’

  Chapter 6

  The icy wind pinched Julian’s face as he walked down the steps away from the privately chartered jet and toward his waiting car. Nathan was still rambling on about how amazing everything on board was—the cream leather finish, the oak fixtures, even the bar stocked to Julian’s personal taste. His voice was like a goddamn wasp buzzing around Julian’s head. Shelly had tried to cover their domestic fallout with endless banter and giggling for the whole seven-hour flight and Julian was about ready to knock their heads together.

  He slid a credit card out of his wallet and passed it to Shelly. ‘Book the usual hotel, please. Fine if you two are sharing…’

  Shelly rolled her eyes.

  ‘Fine if you want to keep up with the bollocks. Book a suite each, I don’t care. Just make sure I have the penthouse and none of this it’s in use crap that they tried to feed us with the last time we were here.’

  ‘This close to Christmas, I think it’s fair to assume every hotel in the greater Manhattan area will be booked out,’ Nathan interrupted.

  Julian exhaled sharply. ‘Shell…’ he said through gritted teeth.

  ‘It won’t be a problem, Julian. Don’t worry.’ Shelly pulled a face and directed it at Nathan, silently advising him to stay quiet.

  ‘I’ll need champagne and strawberries left in my room, please? I expect I’ll have company later.’

  ‘Seriously, Julian? Can’t you keep your cock in your pants for just one night? I thought we were here for Eva.’

  Julian’s whole face pinched. ‘Shell-y,’ he said, exaggerating the second syllable of her name. It was Shelly’s turn to receive a warning to remain quiet.

  Julian stepped aside and Shelly and Nathan slid into the backseat of the black Maybach. Julian tapped the roof twice and nodded to the driver.

  ‘Aren’t you coming?’ Shelly asked rather high-pitched.

  Julian laughed. ‘Try not to kill each other before you get to the hotel, yeah?’

  Shelly’s forehead wrinkled like a sunken soufflé. ‘Where are you going? It’s late.’

  ‘Okay, Mammy,’ Julian teased. ‘It’s only nine pm here and I’ve somewhere I need to be. But Eva’s at The Stadford Hotel. I’m sure she’d be more than happy to see you. Both of you.’

  Shelly knew better than to ask how Julian knew exactly where Eva was less than ten minutes after landing. But it surprised him that Nathan didn’t do his usual foot-in-mouth routine and question what really was none of his business.

  ‘There should be some good stuff in there.’ Julian pointed to the refrigerated compartment between Shelly and Nathan’s slightly reclined seats. ‘Get him pissed and fuck his brains out, Shell. The guy needs to loosen up.’

  ‘Can’t argue with that logic.’ Nathan smiled.

  Julian laughed. Shelly blushed. They drove away.

  Julian’s phone assaulted his trouser pocket as emails and messages that had been piling up over the last seven hours filtered through. He ignored them all, except one.

  From: Pamelawinters@HTK&associates.com

  To: john.mr.doe@ignitetech.com

  Subject: Info

  Date: Fri 16th Dec 21.16

  Hi Julian,

  Firstly, you really need to change your email. John Doe, really? LOL! Anyway, after a lot of going around in circles, I finally found the right place. He’s at St. John’s Memorial. He’s not using an alias or anything, as you thought, so it shouldn’t be too h
ard to find him.

  Best of luck. If you need anymore help or directions or anything, just give me a call. I’ll have my phone with me all evening. I really hope we can catch up for a long, overdue drink while you’re here.

  Best wishes,

  Pam x

  Ms. Pamela Winters

  Senior Vice President

  HTK & Associates

  Grove Tower

  Park Avenue South

  New York, NY 10016

  Julian checked the time on his phone before sliding it back into his pocket. Visiting hours at the hospital would be over but waiting until the morning was not an option.

  The cab ride felt longer than it should have and engaging in idle chitchat with the driver like an enthusiastic tourist was less of a distraction and more an insufferable irritant. But stepping out in front of the main hospital door, Julian felt a little like an overwhelmed tourist in a big, bad city. The part of him that he buried so deep in his soul that sometimes he believed was gone suddenly bubbled to the surface. The weak and vulnerable part of him. The part that was still just an eight-year-old boy.

  Red, orange, black…

  Memories engulfed Julian’s mind just as the inferno had engulfed his home a little more than twenty years ago. He closed his eyes for a second and ignored the cabbie who had rolled down his window and was leaning his head out to ask if Julian was okay.

  He wasn’t okay. He hadn’t ever really been okay, not since then, not since his world was stolen from him.

  Red, orange, black…

  He remembered how the smell of his mother’s freshly baked scones was swept away by the smell of hot, angry flames and burning timbers.

  Julian ran his fingers through his tight hair. He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders up, back, and down. A deep breath pulled him up straight and he marched toward the electronic doors.