Cut to the Chase

by Lori Ryan

  Jarrod noticed she had yet to deny having any information. She continued to turn their questions around, deflecting without flat-out denying. The tactic was one they’d seen when someone didn’t want to be straight. It also told him she had a lot of practice at this. She was a skilled and experienced manipulator.

  “Your families spent a lot of time together while your kids were growing up, didn’t they? I understand you have houses down at the Cape near one another? And his daughter was married to your son. He’s family, in a sense.”

  She made a face, but Jarrod couldn’t decipher the meaning behind it. They’d had the police on Cape Cod check Tyvek’s house repeatedly over the last couple of months, but they’d called and asked them to keep an eye on the Staunton’s Cape house as well. So far, they’d reported there was no activity.

  A glance at his partner told him Cal thought something was off about her behavior as well.

  They tried the whole spiel about aiding and abetting, but she didn’t crack. Twenty minutes later, as they walked out, Jarrod wasn’t one hundred percent satisfied she didn’t know more, but it was hard to tell. From what Warrick had told her, she might get off on them thinking she knew more when in fact she didn’t. Either way, his frustration level was hitting all-time highs with this hunt. They were no closer to Tyvek now than they’d been all month. Getting justice for Carrie and all the people Tyvek had killed seemed to be slipping away, and there was no way Jarrod was going to let that happen.

  Chapter 20

  “We should practice your everyday guy skills tonight.” Sara had to hold back a laugh at the look on Warrick’s face. She’d shown up around lunchtime, knowing he’d still be deep in his work, but Charlotte would be away from her desk.

  “My what now?” He did that sexy thing where the corners of his mouth twitched and she knew he was holding back a smile. It had become a challenge to see if she could make him laugh or smile. Both were equally rewarding. The smile was often cocky with a promise behind it that said he could do wicked things to a woman. The laugh was low and it always made her body warm in response.

  She moved into the office and sat across from him, her face sobering as she thought about how to frame this conversation. She went with direct. “You’re leaving after this, aren’t you?”

  Now his face lost its humor. “What?”

  “After you bring the company back. You’re leaving. I can tell. You’ve got that half packed and out the door look about you.” She tried to sound casual as she said it, but she wasn’t feeling casual on the inside. She felt tense and had that itchy sense she’d always gotten overseas when she knew there was a problem with something but didn’t know how to fix things before everything went sideways on her or her team.

  He was quiet a minute, then nodded. She had to shove aside the feelings of disappointment that swamped her. It was foolish to feel anything in response to him leaving. She had no claim on him. So they’d hung out? Kissed? They’d said at the start it was nothing more than a friendship.

  Then why did the thought of him leaving hurt? She forced a smile. “You’ll be like one of those wild baby eagles they rescue with a hurt wing or something. They can rehab them but then they can’t let them loose in the world because they have no idea how to catch food.”

  That brought the humor back, along with a bark of laughter from him. And, damn, there was that freaking heat. “I can’t believe you just compared me to a bird. Do I have to eat mice in this little scenario of yours because I gotta tell you, I draw the line at eating mice.”

  She found herself laughing too and was glad there wasn’t the awkward tension between them she’d feared would be there after the way he’d kissed her the other night. “No. You know what I mean. You have no idea how to be a normal guy. Think about it. You won’t be the great heir to the Simms Empire or the CEO of a company. You’ll just be a normal guy.”

  “You’re probably right. I have no idea how to do that.” He leaned back in his seat. “I suppose you have some strategy to fix this?”

  “Uh huh.” She grinned and held up the tickets she’d bought. “Hockey.”

  Warrick handed a beer to Sara and took the seat next to her as the Wolf Pack mascot began shooting T-shirts into the stands.

  “It always amazes me that someone had invented a gun dedicated to shooting T-shirts.” She nodded toward the mascot.

  “Proves there’s a market for everything. If you can make it, there’s someone, someplace that wants to buy it.”

  She looked at him. “You really think that?” She shook her head at him. “Nah I don’t buy it. You’re a numbers guy. I’ve seen you cut projects that needed to be cut. If the numbers aren’t there, you pull the plug.”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t say it would be a good market. You might only sell one of what you make, but I think there’s someone out there who wants even the worst inventions. I think a lot of inventions fail because they can’t bring the product to the right people. The right market.”

  She shook her head, but he didn’t know what she was thinking. He liked that about her. She kept him on his toes. She could surprise him and that was refreshing in a woman. He put one arm around the back of her chair and leaned back, taking a drink of the beer.

  “You’re getting good at this.” She smiled as she said it and he leaned in and kissed her mouth. He couldn’t resist. He’d been wanting to do it the whole ride up to Hartford.

  “Good at what?” He said after he pulled away. He liked the slightly dazed look in her eyes. He liked that he could put that look there.

  “At, um…” She licked her lips and he focused on them again. How could he help it? “At relaxing like a normal guy.”

  He turned to the ice, feeling better than he’d felt in a long time. “Who are we rooting for?”

  That made her sit up and gawk at him, and he had to laugh at the look on her face.

  “The Wolf Pack, of course!” She looked around as though checking to be sure no one had overheard him and he laughed.

  “We can’t pull for the away team?” now he was just teasing her, but she made it fun.

  “No! Are you crazy?”

  “Apparently.” He took a sip of the beer, then couldn’t resist. “But I like the…” He looked up at the scoreboard to see who the Wolf Pack was playing and she called him on it.

  “You don’t even know who they’re playing!”

  “Nope. Clearly, I need more practice at this.” The more practice, the better, he thought. If it involved spending time with Sara, he was all in.

  Chapter 21

  Warrick looked up at the knock on his office door. “Hey, Uncle Jonathan.” He stilled at the look on his uncle’s face. “What is it?”

  Jonathan came in and shut the door. “I just had a visit from three of the cousins.” That’s what they’d always called them: the cousins. Warrick wasn’t completely sure when or how it had started, but it had stuck into adulthood.

  He tossed his pen on the desk. “Let me guess. Jacob, Gus, and Mara?”

  Jonathan shook his head. “Almost got it. Jacob, Gus, and Vincent.”

  Warrick cursed under his breath. Vincent had been one of the less aggressive of the bunch. If they’d gotten him on board, things were getting worse.

  “What did they want?”

  “They wanted my vote to replace you. Naturally, they didn’t get it.”

  Warrick let out a breath. He hadn’t been one hundred percent sure of Jonathan’s loyalty and the rush of relief hit him hard. When Jonathan had taken their drug formula to William Tyvek, a fissure had formed in the tight bond they’d had. It had been healing over the past few weeks, but hearing that Jonathan hadn’t hesitated in sticking with him against the cousins went a long way toward cementing the patch.

  “Did they say who they wanted to replace me with?”

  Before Jonathan could answer, Charlotte interrupted on the intercom. “Warrick, Jack Sutton is on the phone. He wants to know if he can come see you. He says he’s five minutes away
.”

  Warrick’s gaze met his uncle’s and he held it as he answered her. “Yes, tell him to come over. And, Charlotte, send him in when he gets here, please.” He turned and sent an email moving an appointment to another day, then looked back at his uncle. “I bet they went to Sutton after you said no. They might be hoping if they convinced him, you’d come on board and they could pull together enough votes that way.”

  Jonathan nodded. “They want to bring in Myles Carson from Innovennux.”

  Warrick stood and went to the window. Myles Carson had saved Innovennux when he’d gone there four years ago, but he’d done it by splitting off three of the company’s technologies and selling them to the highest bidders. He’d sacrificed employee jobs when the buyers wanted to bring their own staff. Every move the man had made put dollars above people. Every damned time. It wasn’t at all what Warrick’s grandfather had taught him to do. It wasn’t what Simms was about.

  “Even if they get Jack on board, they won’t have enough stock for a majority.”

  Warrick didn’t turn around. “They will if they convince mother to side with them.”

  “Oh, surely she wouldn’t do that.” Jonathan didn’t sound any more convinced than Warrick was. His mother was unpredictable. He’d like to say she’d defend him, but honestly, he couldn’t say that with any certainty.

  He stared out at nothing as he waited for Jack to arrive. Five minutes dragged on, but when the door opened, Jack’s eyes went from Jonathan’s face to Warrick’s and back again.

  Warrick waited. He could see Jack struggling with whether to speak in front of Jonathan.

  “If it’s all right with you, Jack, I’d like Jonathan to stay for this,” Warrick said. He meant it. He wanted to stand shoulder to shoulder with Jonathan in saving the company now. He only hoped they could do it.

  Jack nodded. “Jonathan, I’m guessing they came to you first?” He strode across the room and stood across from both men. “I trust you said no?”

  The breath whooshed out of Warrick. “Does this mean you’re not siding with them?” He didn’t need to tell Jack who them was.

  The look Jack gave Warrick was almost comical. “No. Hell, no. I just wanted to be sure we had Jonathan with us so they can’t pull anything behind our backs. I thought we might need to convince him. I’m behind you, Warrick. One hundred percent.”

  Warrick put his hands to face and scrubbed. “Jesus, you couldn’t tell me that over the phone?”

  Jack shrugged and laughed. “I was nearby.”

  Chapter 22

  Sara looked at Warrick across the room, where he stood talking to the production guy. He seemed completely at ease surrounded by lights and cameras, as though being interviewed for a news piece was nothing. They hadn’t gotten much warning about the appearance, but she’d been told that was the way these things often happened. The station needed a spot filled and they got a tip on a feel-good story and rolled with it. If you wanted the free publicity, you showed up. Even if the idea of it did make you want to puke.

  “You’ll be on in two minutes.” The woman with the clipboard didn’t look up as she spoke. She continued to read her notes and even broke periodically to speak into a walkie talkie on her hip. It was nerve-wracking, but the whole thing was nerve-wracking to Sara. She wasn’t used to wearing makeup and having her hair all done up.

  And honestly, her feelings about Warrick were only making it worse. She was all too aware of how her body was reacting to him. Of how her stomach did flip flops every time he looked at her across the room. He walked toward her now, eyes seeming to sweep over her. She wanted to sink through the floorboards. She probably had to admit at some point that this had gone past friendship. At least, for her, it had.

  He came close, looking at her and she saw the slightest tilt to his mouth. He leaned in close, coming down to one ear. Damn if she didn’t lean into him, her right hand coming up to meet his chest. It was like her body went into autopilot despite her objections.

  We have objections? A little voice inside her head chimed in and the nerves cranked higher. Apparently, the voice didn’t have objections.

  “Sara, breathe.” He whispered in her ear and she let out her breath in a whoosh, shocked to realize she’d been holding it. Then she found she couldn’t suck another breath in, and she started to panic.

  “Hey.” He drew back and took hold of her arms, running his hands up and down. The sensation began to ground her. His words helped a lot, too. “Hey, you’ll be fine. They’re going to love you. All you have to do is talk to Marcus.”

  “Marcus?” She squeaked.

  He nodded and she saw a smile quirk those lips. “Marcus Mahoney? You know, the guy who runs the show?”

  “Oh, right. Right.” The guy whose face was on billboards all over the city. The guy who was a local celebrity and news icon. That guy.

  “Look at me.”

  Sara did just that. She turned her focus to Warrick. Her breathing steadied as she looked at his face. She kept her eyes on his.

  Those hands of his kept going up and down her arms. “Pretend you’re just talking to Marcus as a friend out there. Don’t worry about anything else. He’s a nice guy. He won’t bite, I promise.”

  She nodded and took a slow breath. Maybe she could do this. “Okay. A friend. Okay.”

  “You’re on,” the woman with the clipboard said in a tone that said she could give a rat’s ass that Sara was in the middle of a breakdown.

  “Sara, you got this.” Warrick’s voice held the confidence she’d had when she’d been in the military. When she’d had to make quick calls under pressure or face an open road with God knows what between her unit and their base. When she’d had to learn to live without her hand.

  She snapped out of her panic. What was she doing? She did have this. She nodded again, squared her shoulders, threw a smile on her face and walked out to talk to Marcus Mahoney.

  Chapter 23

  “Um, this doesn’t look like practicing to be a regular guy,” Sara said, as Warrick pulled in front of the curb at a fancy restaurant. A valet opened her door, but she looked over at Warrick, instead of getting out.

  The smile he gave her could have melted the panties off half the adult female population of New Haven. “It’s not. Just trust me on this one. We’re practicing something else tonight.”

  “Oh yeah?” She gave him the voice that said she wanted answers, even though her panties were busy packing their bags for their trip south. “What is that?”

  He didn’t fall for it. “I’ll tell you later.”

  He got out of his now-open door and handed the valet his key, leaving Sara to turn to the man still holding her door. His look of patience told her how much this place cost.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, then looked down at herself. She’d forgotten she’d been dressed in a navy dress for the show, her hair and makeup still done. Samantha had brought Jill and Jennie and Kelly over to dress her, swearing they were responsible for all of Samantha’s clothing choices. She’d trusted them, and was glad she had or she’d have felt even more awkward walking into a place like this.

  Warrick took her hand and walked through the door, nodding to the host holding it for them.

  “Good evening, Mr. Staunton.” A smiling woman who looked like she might be either an owner or manager greeted them, then instructed a host to show them to their table. So, he’d either planned ahead and reserved a table, or they simply gave him one whenever he walked through the door. Neither would surprise her.

  They ordered drinks and listened to the waiter talk about specials. Sara kept her left hand in her lap and fingered the menu with her right hand.

  “What looks good to you?” Warrick asked.

  “It all looks good.” It was true. She’d seen four or five entrees already that sounded amazing. Her mouth watered at the descriptions and the restaurant was filled with heavenly smells.

  “I’ve had the salmon, the chicken, and the prime rib. They’re all amazing. The chef h
ere probably couldn’t mess anything up if he tried. My favorite thing is the red snapper, if you like fish.”

  It was one of the items she’d already flagged as possible. She set down her menu and nodded. “Done.”

  The waiter approached the table within seconds and Warrick ordered for both of them. He added a bowl of soup for himself. “Would you like a salad or soup, Sara?”

  “Um…”

  The waiter handed her back the menu. “I recommend the baby bibb with apples and blue cheese.”

  Sara nodded. “That sounds good, thank you.”

  A second waiter brought their drinks while a third placed flatware next to their plates based on what they had ordered for dinner. She’d never seen so many wait staff serve one table. When they’d left, Warrick spoke first.

  “You were great with Marcus. The interview was fantastic.”

  She laughed. “I have a few other words for it.”

  “Nah. You were great. You know, it was interesting when he asked if we’d be working on prosthetics for lower limbs. We could always see if Jax Cutter wants to work with you to design something. If you’re interested, that is.” He sipped his beer. “He might be able to pull together some people to consult on it.”

  “I hadn’t thought of it until he asked. I’d definitely need to work with someone to figure out what’s required. The differences between designing a hand and designing a leg would be substantial.”

  “How so?” Warrick asked, and she got the sense he actually cared about the answer.

  “Well, to be honest, I’m sure I don’t know enough to recognize what all of the differences will be. I know enough to know I need to know a lot more.” She lifted the white wine she’d ordered and took a sip, realizing she’d just said the word “know” about five hundred fifty-two times in one sentence. Her nerves were getting to her. “With a hand, the issue is grip strength and small motor control. Dexterity, the ability to shift and move the hand, to close it in more than a simple grip. A leg needs to hold the weight of the body, move at the knee in a natural way, balance when standing still and while moving.” She stopped to think. “I’m honestly not sure where I’d start.”