I say nothing.
“Jackson, is that true? Did you make a low offer so that I’d talk to you in person?”
And it’s the hurt tone that makes me cave. I no longer have the will to be anything but honest. “Rory, you know I’ve been trying to talk to you for years, to figure out what happened in college. You’ve categorically refused to have any interaction with me. So yeah, I figured, piss her off with the offer, and she’ll come running to tear me a new one. And it worked, didn’t it? Now I know. We both do. Wasn’t it worth it?”
“So you decided the best way to make me talk to you was to interfere with my family’s future? We need this money.”
“For fuck’s sake, no. Sure, I knew the low offer would piss you off, cause you to storm into my office ready to bitch me out. And yeah, that’s exactly what I wanted to happen. But it was still a negotiation. I figured we’d eventually split the difference and settle around $1.75 million, which, to be clear, is still a more than generous offer. It wasn’t some great conspiracy to screw you out of money.”
“You still did something pretty shitty.”
I sigh. “Rory, I have a professional obligation to get the best deal for my client. And he’s my brother. Don’t you think I want to help him as much as I can?”
“So you figured you’d just screw me, instead.”
“No, that’s not how it was.”
“Well, it sure looks like it to me!”
I’ve got seconds before we both start screaming things we don’t really mean to say. “Rory. We can agree you want to get as much for this property as possible, right?”
“Yep.”
“As far as you’re concerned, you want to extract as much money from the buyer as possible. Bleed him dry so that your sister has college money, and your brother can start his fitness business, and you can, well, do whatever you want to do next. That’s your obligation to your family, right?”
Rory stills as she sees where I’m going with this. “Yeah …”
Our gazes lock as I make a significant pause. “And … has that obligation changed at all since you learned the buyer is my brother? The family that you grew up with, the family your parents invited over for dinner, the family you visited during holidays, and summers, and after school?”
Rory’s face pales, but I continue, needing to make my point absolutely clear. “Do you still want to bleed the buyer dry? Do you still want to make Axel pay as much as possible, knowing how bad the harvest has been the last couple years? How we might get another frost this winter that’ll stunt the crop next spring?
“Are you really willing to do that, knowing he’s having trouble hiring people at a price that will maintain any profit? Do you really want to do that to your lifelong neighbor and family friend?
“I’m not blaming you for wanting a fair price. But can’t you see that I’m in the same situation as you, but in reverse? I don’t want your family to be hurt by this deal, but I don’t want mine to be, either. If it had been some stranger, some person I personally care little about, maybe, maybe, I could have considered compromising my professional ethics to make sure you got the better end of the deal.
“But I couldn’t do that to my own brother. He’s a stupid, hard-headed dipshit, but I love him. Yeah, the farm’s fate affects me, too, since I get a sixth of the profits. And sure, this was the perfect way to get you to speak to me. But this was never simply a straightforward transaction for me.”
Rory sags back in her chair, staring at the ceiling. “What a friggin’ nightmare.”
“Yeah. It is. Sometimes life is a zero-sum game between the people you love.”
Her gaze snaps to mine. I freeze. What the fuck did I just say? I feel my face growing hot as I look away from her. “You know what I mean.”
Rory says nothing for such a long time that I think maybe she does know what I mean, what I really mean, in the most vulnerable recesses of my soul, the places I don’t dare to share with anyone, not even myself.
“Anyway,” I say, clearing my suddenly dry throat, “the best thing I could think to do was give you a low number, so that after a long, tough negotiation, you’d be happy, or maybe just satisfied, that I went up at all. And my brother wouldn’t have to pay out the teeth for an expansion that is coming at a financially bad time for him. I suppose all of this is now a moot point, since the idiot offered full price.”
Rory leans down and thumps her head against the table. “Yeah, right. Now I’m going to feel bad taking the money from him.”
“That’s business, peach.”
“Don’t call me that,” she mumbles into the table. I grin at the defeated tone. Thank Christ I’ve managed to explain my side in a way that doesn’t make her want to hit me.
“You can call me peach, if you want. I could get used to it. Godlike fucker would be better, obviously, but I could make it work.”
She lifts her head to roll her eyes at me again, but at least she no longer looks so defeated.
“It’s fine, Rory. Look on the bright side; you’re getting a great deal on a property that doesn’t even make four hundred grand a year.”
“What did you say?”
I blink at her. “What do you mean? You made $387K last year, right?”
Her face wrinkles in confusion. “What the hell are you talking about? We cleared four hundred last year. Nearly made it to half a million.”
“No, you didn’t,” I say slowly, because I’d have thought that this number, of all numbers, she’d have memorized. I pull my phone out of my pocket, pulling up the financial packet her agent sent over in an email weeks ago. I scroll down until I find the year-end financial statement for last year and then slide the phone across from her. “See? The Larson farm ended the year with $387,392.87 in profit.”
She just stares at the phone. One minute, two, then three slip by without any response whatsoever.
“This is incorrect.”
“Looks pretty official to me.”
Rory slides the phone toward me without looking; she’s staring off into space, lost in thought. “That’s not the right number. I don’t know what the hell that financial statement is, but it’s not ours.”
“What are you talking about?”
Suddenly, Rory’s face narrows in cold understanding. She turns to me. I blink at the fury, thankful it’s not directed at me, for once. “Oh, I have an excellent idea what might have happened. Come with me.”
She launches out of her chair and stalks for the door. When I’m still standing there, she turns back and says, face grave, “I promise you, Jackson. Those numbers are off. And I can prove it.”
Chapter Thirteen
For a long moment, I just stare at the statement. This one, blaring up at me from Rory’s computer screen, also proclaims it’s last year’s year-end financial statement for Larson Farm.
And it says their profit for the year was $463,762.25. Nearly another hundred thousand dollars more than the statement I got. What the hell? For what reason would Rory’s agent send me a statement that makes the farm look less profitable than it actually is?
“Your agent’s an idiot,” I say, still staring at the screen.
“My agent isn’t an idiot.”
I turn to her, brow raised. “You sure? Because that right there seems to imply that she’s a dumbass.”
But Rory’s ignoring me—probably smartly—too busy clicking some of the other files in the folder she’s been viewing. Without looking at me, she holds out her hand and says, “Give me your phone.”
“Why, Miss Larson, you know it would be inappropriate for a student to give out his personal number.”
Her head whips around to glare at me. “Give me your phone, or I’ll punish you.”
My grin turns wicked. “Usually, I prefer to do the punishing myself, but I could probably be convinced. Will you rap a ruler on my knuckles? Will I need to stay after school for detention?”
She yanks my phone out of her hands. “Still need to get your head checked, I
see.”
“You love my head. Both of them. Especially if I give it to you.”
“You might just be the most disgusting person I’ve ever met.”
“Yes, peach, I’m absolutely filthy.”
She just shakes her head slightly, but it’s without any real heat. I hover behind her, watching as she scrolls through the documents on my phone, her head occasionally glancing up to stare at something on her computer screen. I watch her instead of my phone, studying the soft fall of her brunette hair over her shoulder, breathing the peach scent of her. Generally being a total non-creeper.
“Aha!” she shouts.
“What?” I say, leaning farther over her. She turns back to show me, then flinches at how close I am, her eyes flicking down to my mouth, which twists in another wicked grin.
She blinks twice, rallying. “I found the other inconsistencies.”
“Really?”
She nods toward the monitor. “Look. All of the yearly figures are off going back through the three years of financial statements we sent over. But the actual production yields are still correct, see? We sold about forty-two tons of peaches last year. But the corresponding dollar value of those tons in your financial statements is lower than it should be. Mine are correct, obviously, because I’m the one who does the financial statements.
“So, somewhere along the way, the dollar amounts were changed, but whoever messed with them didn’t think to change the corresponding number of peaches sold.” She sends me a sly look. “It’s surprising, really, that neither you nor Axel caught it. If your brother hadn’t upped the offer, he would have bought a more productive farm at a helluva discount.”
Her words tickle something in the back of my mind, but I can’t quite reach it. She’s right, though; we should have caught something like this. We just looked at the totals without doing the underlying calculations.
I rub my temples, trying to think. “So, what the hell happened?”
“What happened is they were manipulated before they were sent to my agent.”
“Why would you do that?”
Rory swivels around to look at me. My mind instantly brings up the image of me fucking her on the edge of that chair, legs spread wide. I mentally shove the picture away, my cock already half-hard.
“I’m not the one who sent the info to my agent.”
My almost-boner dies a quick death. “What?”
“I was too busy with the harvest, so I had one of my employees do it.”
“Who?”
Her jaw tightens before she takes a large breath, pauses, then says, “I think you know.”
And I do. I straighten. That fucker. Rory watches my face twist into an expression of fury and throws out a hand in a placating gesture, which only sets me off further.
“You’re defending him?”
“I’m not defending him. I’m calming you down.”
“I can’t believe you employ that bastard!”
She rolls her eyes. “Well, something tells me it won’t be for much longer,” she says dryly.
That mollifies me, somewhat. Him fucking off is probably preferable to me fucking him up. Rory surges out of her chair and heads for the door. The edge of her bandage peeks out from her sleeve when she reaches for the doorknob.
“Where are you going?”
She throws an exasperated gaze at me. “Where do you think?”
“Don’t go talk to him. You’re injured.”
“Really, Jackson? My arm is fine. Barely hurts. This bandage is basically a practicality. Besides, what do you think he’s going to do, beat me?”
If he even attempts to think about doing something remotely approaching that, I’ll remove his arms from his body. I’ll Wookiee his ass. I follow right behind her. “I’m coming with you.”
“I figured.”
I follow Rory out of the house, trying to ignore the fact that she goes practically on autopilot. Rory walks with the kind of casual surety that implies she’s done this many times before.
That shouldn’t bother me, should it? Well, it does, dammit.
When we reach the barn, instead of simply walking in the front entrance, like I’m expecting, Rory steps around the side until she reaches a door that I’ve never seen before.
“I can’t believe you let him live here,” I mutter.
“He pays rent, Jackson,” she snaps back.
Rory knocks on the door, then steps back. A minute later, the door swings open to reveal Lipton, shirtless and beer in hand. I resist the urge to punch the smug bastard.
“Rory, hey, how are you? I didn’t think I’d see you until tomorrow.” Then he notices me standing behind her; his smug expression dies.
That’s right, fuckface, she’s with me. “Hey, Lipton.”
He gives me a disgruntled nod. “King.”
Rory shifts so she regains his attention, done with the niceties. “I want to ask you about something.”
Lipton grins and takes a sip of his beer, leaning against the door. “Sure, baby. Ask away.”
“Something about the financial packet sent over to my agent.”
Lipton stills slightly; a sudden cautious light enters his eyes. He takes another swig of beer, probably to delay further questioning, the dick.
“What do you want to know?” he finally says.
“I’d like to know why the hell you manipulated the numbers.”
“I didn’t—”
“I can understand, I suppose, if you’d made them seem better. Increased them,” Rory continues right over him, “but you didn’t. You made them worse.”
“You’re—”
“Now why would you do something like that, Mike?”
“I didn’t,” he says with a shrug.
Well, the guy certainly has balls for lying to her face. Rory is not amused. “You didn’t? Do you actually expect me to believe that? All I told you to do was go into my office, select the folder of financial statements, and email them to my agent. It was a rather simple task, one I thought you’d have no trouble doing. But I suppose it was too much to ask of you, wasn’t it?”
Lipton’s expression flattens at the intimation he’s an idiot. I try not to enjoy the look, because I’m an adult, but fail anyway.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lipton says, holding his arm over his chest.
Rory takes a deep breath. “I’m not a moron, Mike. I know you did it, and I want to know why. No one else on this farm has access to those files. It could only have been you.”
Lipton, the dumb shit, says nothing.
“I deserve an explanation!” Rory yells, face red.
I take a step closer. “Yeah, Lipton. Let’s have an answer.”
“Oh, call off your attack dog, Rory,” Lipton snarls, jerking his chin at me aggressively.
I take another step toward him. “I wouldn’t threaten me right now, if I were you,” I say, voice quiet.
“I don’t need your help, Jackson, thanks,” says Rory, holding up her hand over her shoulder in the universal “stop” gesture. Lipton sneers at me.
Sure, she’s not going to need my help at all with this idiot.
“Tell me the truth right now, or so help me God, I will walk right down to Abernathy’s Bar and tell everyone you’re a horrible lay.”
I snicker, because, bless her heart, Rory knows right where to hit a guy for maximum damage. Even if the thought of them fucking makes my fingers twitch with the desire to launch themselves into his face.
Lipton turns sulky. He shifts on his feet, drains the rest of his beer, stares at Rory for a long time, then says, “Okay, fine. I’ll tell you.”
Chapter Fourteen
“I never thought you were going to sell, but when you told us, it was a complete shock. A bunch of us wondered what was going to happen to our jobs,” Lipton begins.
Rory’s hands fly up in the air. “I told you, your job will be fine! The person I’m selling to already produces peaches and is looking to expand his yield. He�
�ll need all of you to stay on for the harvest.”
“Oh yeah, I know. King needs a whole bunch of people to keep his shitty farm running.”
Rory’s hands slowly come down to her side. She throws a quick glance at me, worried, and to be frank, she has cause to be. I step around her, getting right in his face. Lipton straightens from where he’s been leaning against the doorframe. I’m a tall man, but he’s a monster; it’s one of the reasons women always hang off him in bars—sometimes quite literally. He stands maybe an inch or two taller than me, but I stare him down; nothing the bastard could do in this moment would intimidate me.
“What did you just say?”
His jaw tightens and he glares aggressively, but I just sneer at him.
“Because what I just thought you said was that my family’s farm, that we’ve owned for nearly fifty years, is, and I quote, ‘shitty.’ Now, that can’t be right, Lipton, can it? I must have misheard you.”
Rory steps between us, placing a hand on our chests and gently shoving us apart. “All right, let’s not be stupid. Mike, don’t be a dipshit and insult Jackson’s family farm. Especially when it appears that Jackson’s brother will be your new boss. Care to share how you knew that little piece of information before I announced it to everyone? Before I even knew?” she adds under her breath.
Trust Rory to notice the one piece of significant information that I, in my male indignation, missed. When guilt flashes across Lipton’s face. I know we’ve got him.
He sighs, shaking his head slightly, before saying, “I knew a while ago.”
“How?” Rory’s eyes slide to mine, but I shrug, unable to give her an answer as to how he could possibly know such a thing. She turns back to him. “Explain.”
“I am. About a week or two after the farm went on the market, I got a call from someone who said he knew who was going to buy your farm. He said he knew that I had worked here for a long time and was probably worried about losing my job. He had a proposition for me.”
Monster (King Brothers #1) Page 8
