Rough & Tumble (The Haven Brotherhood)

by Rhenna Morgan

  “Jace. Talk to me.”

  The first of four downtown exit signs flew by on his right. Five more minutes. Five minutes and he’d take care of Paul once and for all. He ended the call and answered to the empty cab. “I’m done talking.”

  * * *

  The museum lobby thrummed with low, steady chatter from the catering staff and intermittent checks of the sound system. All around Vivienne, various event contractors scurried to handle last-minute details so they could collect their checks and get on with their weekend.

  This was the good part. Watching puzzle pieces snap into place and surveying the big picture while her awareness prickled, focused and ready to intercept the inevitable curveball. Nothing was better.

  Usually.

  Today, she may as well have been in another state. No matter how many times she rechecked her lists, she couldn’t find her groove, too many of her thoughts still tangled in Jace and last night.

  Being here was wrong. No matter how many times Jace had assured her finishing was the right thing, it still felt like a betrayal. Sure, she’d pocket a few contacts, but at this point did she really want them? If what Evelyn said yesterday was true, the board had all but flayed the skin off Jace’s back, but left him carting the bulk of their financial load.

  He only did it for you.

  Her stomach twisted, and she clenched her clipboard hard enough her knuckles burned. He’d have never taken their crap if she hadn’t been part of the equation. She’d poked and prodded him for more information about the charity’s actions, but he’d clammed up entirely saying it didn’t matter.

  It did matter. A lot. How could she stand here and cater to these people after everything he’d given her?

  On autopilot, she paced toward the kitchen and scanned the assembly area set aside for reporters. They’d had to double the area when word had gotten out Paul would be their guest speaker, although why anyone would want to broadcast any more of his whiny diatribes she couldn’t fathom. Nothing fresh or creative ever came from his mouth. Since announcing his candidacy, all she’d ever heard were personal attacks on Jace and Paul’s competitors with a dash of righteous crusades thrown in for fun.

  Quick, sharp heel strikes echoed through the lobby and Evelyn’s voice rang out behind her. “Vivienne!”

  Viv turned to find her quasi boss bustling as quick as her legs could carry her without breaking into a full jog. Her cheeks were flushed and an excited sparkle gleamed in her pale blue eyes. She snatched Viv’s arm as soon as she came into range and redirected her back to the front of the lobby. “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, but Paul just arrived and Mrs. Renner is with him. If you’re out to build your business, she’s a name you want on the top.”

  “Paul’s married?”

  “Paul’s mother.” She dipped closer and scanned to make sure no one was in close enough range to overhear. “She’s too hoity-toity to stay for the whole event, so if you want to meet her, now’s your chance.”

  A commotion sounded from up ahead of them and flashbulbs went off.

  “Oh, dear.” Evelyn’s hand clamped tighter on her arm. “The press is already here.”

  They were indeed. Lined up for a prime view of the podium were the three main network affiliates, held in check only by the black velvet stanchion rope separating the media queue from the contributing guests.

  “It’s fine. I’ll handle it if they get out of hand.” Actually, she’d like to give the sharks a boatload of bait and leave Paul floundering in a feeding frenzy. That wouldn’t work to the charity’s advantage though, and idiot board or not, the mission was still an important one for Jace.

  She slowed her steps, forcing Evelyn to do the same, and pasted on a professional smile.

  Ahead, Mrs. Renner motioned toward the podium and spoke to a younger man and woman hovering to one side of her. Somehow, she’d imagined Paul’s mother would be the height of sophistication with a plastic-surgery-perfect face. But the woman barking orders ran closer to Queen Elizabeth, minus the matronly hats and about twenty pounds.

  Paul turned as she drifted into hearing distance. As usual, he sported a black custom-cut suit with a classic politician’s white shirt and blue tie. “Ah, Vivienne.” He draped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “Mother, you remember the event planner I mentioned over dinner last night. Vivienne Moore, meet my mother, Patricia Renner.”

  Flashbulbs fired in Viv’s periphery and a shiver snaked down her spine. God help her if any of those hit the press. She didn’t doubt Jace would believe her if she told him there was nothing to it, but Paul might still end up one arm shy of what he had today.

  She stepped forward and offered her hand to Mrs. Renner, discreetly divesting herself of Paul’s touch. “Mrs. Renner, it’s good to meet you. Evelyn’s said lovely things about your philanthropic work.”

  Oh, how the lies and bullshit rolled off her tongue. Normally, she’d breathe through it and remind herself of her goals. How the platitudes and niceties were necessary in her line of work. But were they? Really? What if she worked with people whose egos weren’t so important they required constant stroking? Or, even better, her clients were people she respected and could learn from? Who was it that deemed the social elite better and wiser?

  Patricia’s droning, Charlie Brown teacher voice broke through Viv’s meandering thoughts. “Tell me, what other clients are you working with right now?”

  Her thoughts tumbled and sputtered in a chaotic mess, and her heart lurched. She opened her mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Time crashed around her in a blinding light with the force of a stampeding buffalo.

  “I think you’ve caught our girl off guard, Mother.” Paul palmed the small of her back. “You don’t need to be shy with us, Vivienne. You’ve certainly shown your ability to work without a net this week. What other projects will be keeping you busy this year?”

  Within earshot, the press looked on. Some had their phones mashed between their ear and shoulder, jotting notes on binders, and others simply held their phones in the best position to capture anything and everything that was said. Off to one side, a photojournalist stepped over to better bring Viv into the picture.

  She licked her desert-dry lips and smoothed a hand down the front of her classic black sheath dress. “I have a wide variety of clients at the moment. Many are small business engagements, though there are a few charity drives intermingled.”

  A bullshit answer. Cheap and cowardly. And here she’d mentally flayed Paul for failing to make a stand in his politics. She couldn’t even hold her own and show pride in a simple conversation.

  “Well.” Mrs. Renner folded her hands in front of her waist. “I’m sure we could do our part to help your small little business grow in thanks for helping us on such short notice.”

  Her “small little business.” Man, the comparison to Queen Elizabeth had been closer than she’d thought. Viv was a little surprised Patricia hadn’t paired the statement with a condescending pat on the head.

  Paul motioned to the stadium. “My mother had a few suggestions we’d like to see incorporated, if you don’t mind.”

  “Actually, I do mind.” Viv straightened a good two inches taller and squared her shoulders. Small little business indeed. “We’ve taken significant care to place the event elements so all the focus is drawn to our scholarship winners’ art.” She faced Mrs. Renner deadon. “I’d also like to clarify. The people I’m working for are wonderful—a cutting-edge technology company, an aviation firm, security experts and several entertainment venues. There are a few investment companies as well. My main partner introduced me to most of them. Perhaps you’ve heard of him. His name is Jace Kennedy.”

  Reporters who’d only halfway been paying attention to the conversation went on point and jostled for better position. Flashes from a handful of cameras snapped in a riotous rhythm.

  Paul pinned
Evelyn with an ugly glare and his voice dropped to barely audible levels. “You said they were through.”

  Evelyn fiddled with the V-line neck of her cobalt blue dress, but her eyes sparked with a bit of defiance. “Well, I didn’t dig too far, and Viv was willing to dive in, so...”

  Mrs. Renner raked Vivienne with a disdainful glower. “No wonder you were hesitant to claim affiliation. Jace Kennedy’s a thug, and the people who do business for him are no better.”

  “Really?” Viv increased her voice so the reporters could clearly hear. “The way I hear it, it’s your son who’s fond of dirty deals, not Jace.”

  Behind the front line reporters, assistants scrambled to hand over notepads and microphones.

  Patricia bristled and snapped to the peak of her barely five-foot frame, shooing Evelyn away with a dismissive wave. Her words shook with whispered fury. “Unless you have the means necessary to protect yourself in a libel suit, I suggest you hold your accusations.”

  “It’s a bit more than accusations, isn’t it? I mean, no one can prove you bought off UNLV’s dean to hide Paul’s scams, but I’d bet the college covered their ass and kept a public record on why Paul was expelled.”

  “Ma’am, are you alleging wrongdoing by Councilman Renner?”

  “Can you elaborate on your claims?”

  “Explain the connection with UNLV.”

  Questions fired from the reporters faster than she could register them all, each leaning over the rope and angling for her attention. Paul’s bodyguards swept in tighter, forming an intimidating barricade between their little group and the agitated media.

  Paul gripped her upper arm and steered her back two steps, protective for all outward appearances, but his eyes snapped with thick, gut-churning rage. He murmured low enough he couldn’t be heard over the crowd. “You’re a foolish woman. I’d thought you’d be smart enough to learn your lesson with Jace and take advantage of a fresh start.”

  Undaunted, Paul pinned her with a deadly stare and slid his hand so it lay directly over her wound. He smiled and squeezed.

  Viv whimpered and tried to break free, but Paul’s fingers dug deep, honing-in almost dead center to where the bullet had ripped through her flesh. “Bad things happen to foolish people, Ms. Moore. I suggest you learn that and recant your nasty lies before things get out of hand.”

  Jace’s voice cut above the crowd’s chaotic roar from over her shoulder before Paul’s words fully died off. “Things are already out of hand. Now get your fucking hand off my woman.”

  Chapter 32

  Jace yanked Viv away from Paul and into his arms. Her heartbeat thrashed against his chest and her breaths came short and rapid, but she was safe. Safe and surrounded by what looked like a press op gone wrong.

  Every one of the men and women clambered for position, their voices shouting for even a flicker of acknowledgment.

  Paul pasted on his politician’s smile and ambled closer to the press, hands up in a placating motion. “If everyone would please relax just a moment, we’ll take a few questions in an orderly fashion. This is simply a misunderstanding.”

  Beside Paul, Mrs. Renner shifted uncomfortably, her facing burning a livid red.

  “Councilman Renner, can you elaborate on your relationship to the lady behind you and her claims you were expelled from UNLV?”

  Jace slipped his hands beneath Viv’s hair and cupped the back of her neck. Beneath his palm, her skin was cool and clammy. “You want to tell me what the hell they’re talking about?”

  Before Viv could answer, Paul’s holier-than-thou voice carried over the throng. “Ms. Moore was assisting us with today’s event and unfortunately fell victim to a disgruntled colleague from my past. It was all a misunderstanding.”

  Viv spun in Jace’s arms and faced the crowd. Despite her tiny stature, the air around her snapped with the fury of a giant. “I didn’t misunderstand anything. If you’ll check UNLV’s records, you’ll find Paul Renner was discharged from the university for attempting to swindle scholarship and student loan funds from fellow students.”

  A commotion sounded near the main lobby entrance, a separate news team scrambling in with cameras pointed their direction.

  Paul tagged the crew rushing into the fray and stepped back with a small nod. “I believe we’ll address these accusations in a more appropriate venue after authorities have had an opportunity to investigate further.”

  You want to hurt Paul, you take away his easy life. Take away the cameras and the money and let him live with nothing.

  Jace shifted Viv behind him and stepped into Paul’s line of retreat. “I’m thinking those authorities might like direct contact with the people who almost lost their money. I’d guess their lives are in a much different place ten years later and not nearly as swayed by threats to keep their silence.”

  Before Paul could reroute, or fire an answer, a woman from the newest team shouted and thrust a microphone between the wall of guards. “Councilman Renner, we received evidence from a trustworthy source today tying you to an individual known to work with Hugo Moreno.”

  The bustling room stilled, all attention shifting to the reporter who’d posed the question.

  Paul smoothed his tie into place and tucked one hand in his pocket. If it hadn’t been for the shaky smile that went with it, the unruffled stance might have worked. “I assure you, I have no ties of any kind to Mr. Moreno, nor any of his associates.”

  “Sir, the files sent to us today show intermittent, large deposits into the account of Carlos Santoia, a man arrested for possession with intent to distribute and photographed on numerous occasions with Mr. Moreno. Each of the deposits occurred just twenty-four hours prior to very public arrests for dangerous and illegal substances at Crossroads. The latest deposit was recorded yesterday morning in the amount of ten thousand dollars. Last night, Mr. Santoia was recorded in the act of attempted arson.”

  “The information is fabricated.” Paul glanced at his mother beside him and visibly flinched at the furious scowl she aimed back at him. “Once researched by authorities, I’m sure the root of this unscrupulous information will be uncovered.”

  “In addition to the deposits, there are also phone records indicating your direct communications with Mr. Santoia. Do you claim those were falsified as well?”

  “Of course. This is nothing more than Mr. Kennedy seeking retribution for negative media coverage.”

  “Sir, these reports came from outside Mr. Kennedy’s realm and from a source who’s skilled in tracking white-collar crime. Do you have history with Mr. Kennedy that would justify his falsifying such evidence?”

  Mrs. Renner’s expression hardened and Paul’s lackluster smile slipped. She motioned the two young assistants behind her toward the back entrance and marched away without a word.

  Paul stared at his mother bustling away and his face blanched. Even when he faced the crowd, his eyes seemed distant and unfocused. “I’m sorry, I won’t be able to address your questions at this time.” He spun and strode after his mother, his bodyguards tight on his heels.

  Jace turned to follow, but Viv gripped his arm. “Jace.” She burrowed against his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Let it go.”

  He pulled in a deep breath, praying for something—anything—to quash the mushrooming need to eviscerate the narcissistic bastard. Viv’s fresh, sunny scent surrounded him like an answered prayer.

  Viv’s a fine lass, but you can’t hold her from a cell.

  Axel was right on that score, and any retribution sure as hell couldn’t be divvied out with reporters and cameramen scampering at every exit. He’d no more had the thought, than he sensed his brothers behind him.

  Trevor rounded to one side of Jace and Axel on the other. “What the bloody hell happened here?”

  Jace gripped Viv by each shoulder and edged her back enough he could see her eyes. �
��Kind of like to know that myself.”

  Viv ducked her head for a second, fingers plucking his T-shirt at one shoulder. “I lost my temper.” She looked up and rolled her lips inward, genuine remorse flooding her mystic gray eyes. “I know I shouldn’t have said anything, but Mrs. Renner called you a thug, and I lost it.”

  Trevor hung his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, his torso shaking on a chuckle, but Axel’s hardy, baritone laughter sang through the lobby without a care for who heard it. “Damn, you’re a feisty lass.” He slapped Jace on the shoulder. “And here we were foolish enough to think she’d be left all alone with the big bad wolf. I take it that last bit we walked in on had something to do with Knox’s tidy package?”

  Jace nodded. “Ended up being twice as bad with Viv’s little preshow warm-up.”

  “He was behind the shooting, wasn’t he?” Viv asked.

  Trevor glanced over his shoulder and scanned as though gauging who might be able to hear. “That and everything else. We can’t drop evidence on the shooting without bringing you and Zeke into it, but we can damn sure nail him on the drugs and arson.”

  “It’s still not enough.” Twice now Jace had lived through the gut-grinding panic of closing in on Viv in a nasty situation. No way in hell was he letting a third happen if he could help it. “That son of a bitch needs to pay for what he’s done.”

  “He will.” Viv laid her hand over his heart and cocked her head at a cheeky angle. “And if it’s all the same to you, I’d find it a whole lot more satisfying if you let karma be the one to collect. Besides, all of this year’s shows are in reruns now, and Sylvie and Ninette have been looking for their next popcorn fix. I can’t imagine they’d find anything more entertaining than watching Paul dodge reporters and squirm on the stand.”

  His brothers’ laughter roared full force on either side of him, and Viv beamed a beautiful, mischievous smile up at him.

  Christ, he was blessed. All the shit Viv had gone through because of him, and she could still lift him up. Absolve him and unwind his fury with a simple quip and a saucy smirk.