Dirty Ties

by Pam Godwin

  Fuckever. I said I wouldn’t leave without the CEO position, and if the board wanted to pow-wow behind closed doors, so be it. In the end, they’d offer me the job.

  Right about now, each of them was likely paging through his or her own personalized folder, scouring the brief but detailed accounts of their criminal histories. Arbitrage, laundering, insider trading, commercial bribery, embezzlement, harassment…murder.

  Which brought my thoughts back to Kaci Baskel and Collin Anderson. How far did the apples fall? Their criminal involvement was purely speculative on my part, their activities hidden behind Trenchant’s firewalls. I didn’t have portfolios built against them because I hadn’t been able to mine anything beyond a few suspicious transactions. Were they merely pawns? The next generation of Trenchant corruption? Or were they kept in the dark?

  I wanted to assume they were innocent based on the non-evidence, but I didn’t trust my investigative skills. Most of the shit I had on their parents came from my mother, and I knew it was only a small fraction of their crimes. How much more was I missing?

  The contract is void if she cheats on my son.

  Memory flooded my body, her lips on my cock, her cunt clenching around my fingers, her sassy comebacks, the way she defiantly demanded I hand over the RFID reader. I couldn’t decide which was hotter, when she melted in my hands or when she chased after me with an iron backbone.

  My pulse elevated, and pressure swelled in my groin. Nine months of build-up, watching Miss Ducati from afar, had led to a landslide of desire and abandon. Hot, reckless temptation tainted with regret.

  Regret of not finishing what we’d started. Regret of deceiving her the way she’d deceived me. Regret that she was married.

  The surge of hunger evaporated, and instant anger took its place. Was her pussy so loose her family had to tie her legs closed with a contract? Why? What made her cheat? Was it a genetics thing? Like mother like daughter?

  Nausea curled my stomach, and a sour taste filled my mouth. The damned contract was already void. Kaci had fucking cheated with me.

  Scratch that. She’d cheated with Evader. She hadn’t met me yet.

  I glared at Alicia until she jerked her attention from my mouth to my eyes. “Where’s Kaci Baskel today?”

  Her curious gaze bounced over my face, down my chest then skipped away. A little too curious for my taste. No doubt she was wondering what was going on. She’d find out soon enough.

  She tapped on the keyboard. “Off-site meeting until this afternoon. Would you like to leave her a message?”

  Oh, I had a message for her. You were right. I lied. You suck cock like a pro. Too bad you’re an unfaithful slut. By the way, you won’t be getting that promotion. As your boss, I’m amending your job description. Every task is now prefaced with “On your knees…”

  My stomach coiled with acid and excitement. I shook my head. “No message.”

  Fuck, maybe I wasn’t being fair. Adultery was one thing, but this bitterness wasn’t new. I’d judged Kaci Baskel long ago for the crimes of her parents.

  The existence of the contract nagged at me. Why would she have to negotiate anything? Was it her idea, a way to secure her promotion? Or the board’s requirement to ensure she remained faithful? Why did they care? Hell, infidelity was a minor infraction compared to her family’s crimes. If she were a member of their dirty club, the CEO position would’ve been hers without stipulation.

  No, that wasn’t true. She could be a willing disciple, and they could be using contracts as a means to control her under the guise of testing her loyalty.

  Alicia stood, figure-eight swishing her hips around the desk. “They’re ready for you.”

  In short order, I had my empty messenger bag in hand, walking in step with her through a maze of halls and into a vast meeting room. There, I set my bag on a side table and stood before the Trenchant Board for the first time.

  The door shut behind me, locking me in with the four pairs of flinty eyes. Shoulder to shoulder, they sat in their chairs, facing me with the table between us. Pinched lips, spineless backs at rigid attention, all in a fancy row of designer suits. Designed to make me feel like a man before a firing squad.

  Little did they know, I would be the last one standing.

  Revenge wasn’t my only aspiration in life, but if it was the only thing I accomplished, if it resulted in my hometown free of my mother’s murderers, it was enough for me.

  I was just one of countless others who wanted to take these people down. In their race for power, they’d left so many victims in their wake. Victims who had families. Those left behind might not have known who killed their husbands, daughters, sisters, but I would give them that knowledge, along with proof that punishment had been served.

  Justice. To wake up every day knowing I rid Chicago of its worst white-collar crime family. To fall asleep every night knowing one less assistant would be raped, one less whistle-blower would be dumped in the river.

  To fill my lungs with peace, knowing I avenged my mother.

  I burned for that. Just thinking about it ignited a fire in my blood.

  “Before we begin,” Trent said, catching my attention, “I looked up Maura Flynt while you were waiting. I’m sorry to hear about her death. I was a journalist years ago. That’s how I met her. I interviewed her on the set of Race to Midnight.”

  The interview part was true. That movie had been her debut as a stunt double. A year before I was born.

  I swallowed the anger and grief that tried to climb up my throat. He didn’t know I knew the truth, and I needed to keep it that way in order to get close to him.

  I nodded. “She had some crazy fans. They said her murderer had been stalking her for a while.” Somehow Trent had pinned my mother’s death on Edward Carthill, who later served time for a string of murders. I lifted a shoulder. “He died in prison a few years ago.”

  Without a flicker in his expression, he scrutinized mine, no doubt trying to determine if I believed the shit about Carthill.

  “But that’s not why I’m here.” I prowled the length of the boardroom table and stopped behind the chair across from Dalton Baskel, Kaci’s father.

  Wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, and silver streaked the temples of his thinning brown hair. “Logan Flynt.” The blue bow-tie at his neck bobbed with his throat. “I’m Dal—”

  “Let’s skip the formal introductions.” I rested a forearm on the chair back. “I trust Trent gave you the packets I brought?”

  “Yes, well…” Dalton’s hand clenched on the table. “I’m—”

  “The technical brain behind Trenchant Media? I understand you’ve transformed this print shop into the leading innovator in digital media.”

  The corner of his mouth bounced.

  I tilted my head. “Too bad you can’t publicly beat your chest about your biggest innovations.”

  He opened his mouth to interrupt, and I talked over him. “Computer trespassing, tampering with evidence, hacking, forgery, cyber defamation. My favorite is the hoax tweet you issued from Senator Roland’s Twitter account. Remember that one? The destructive announcement that accused Newswide Corp of slander?”

  He grimaced. “Mr. Flynt—”

  “That was a two for one, right? A liberal senator’s plunge in ratings and your biggest competitor suffering a four-hundred-billion dollar removal from the S&P 500 Index.”

  Kathleen Baskel slammed a fist on the table, her red-dyed hair as witch-like as her pointy chin. “Who do you think you are?”

  Watching them get all worked up filled me with satisfaction. I slid my hands in my front pockets and shifted to stand before her. “Well, Kathleen. Since appearances are your thing. What do you see?” I shrugged and flashed my most charming smile. “The CEO of Trenchant? Do I fit the image?”

  Her blue eyes blazed, the only feature she shared with her daughter. But beneath the anger was appreciation, her gaze sliding over the musculature I busted my ass to maintain. She drank in my chest, my shoul
ders, and stalled on my lips.

  I shifted toward her, lengthened my spine to accentuate my full height, and subtly expanded my muscles to exude an imposing, confident air. “Everyone in this room knows you like a pretty face. And a prettier bank balance. Charity parties. Rubbing elbows with the rich and sexy. Gets you wet, doesn’t it, Kathleen?”

  Her fingers went to her throat, her mouth gaping. Dalton turned a furious shade of constipated.

  “Hey, I’m not judging.” I absolutely was. In the years I’d tracked her, she’d slept with numerous billionaires, before and after she accepted their donations, all in the name of philanthropy for organizations that never saw a dime.

  “This is bullshit, Trent.” A seething whisper from the woman who had yet to speak.

  A twinge lit behind my eye. Collin’s mother, Nicola Anderson, was a piece of work. Her stunning Italian features did little to hide the ugly, vindictive creature inside. She might not have killed my mother, but she had been the voice in Trent’s head. I didn’t need hard evidence to prove it. I had my mother’s diary, Trent’s retinue of ex-lovers, and their personal accounts of just how sharp Nicola kept her claws.

  I angled my body to face her. “You’re careless, Nicola. I can smell you from a mile away, and jealousy smells a whole lot like fear.”

  She gripped the edge of the table, leaning in, elbows out. “Fuck you.” She spit, actually sprayed a mist from her mouth. Thankfully, it didn’t have enough momentum to reach my side of the table.

  “My God, Nicola.” Kathleen scowled. “Control yourself.”

  Trent placed a hand on his wife’s arm. “Congratulations, boy. You’ve successfully demolished any chance you had at winning our cooperation.” The subtle catch in his voice betrayed his lax posture and dormant eyes.

  I nudged the chair across from him with the toe of my Chucks, sliding it out of the way. “No one has asked how I know what I know.” I glanced at Kaci’s father. “Maybe Dalton’s figured it out?”

  He adjusted the glasses on his nose. “Hacking. We made a call while you were waiting, verified your undergrad in Computer Science.”

  “And I’m just one of thousands of hackers. Thousands who could be investigating you right now.” Lowering into a side-perch on the edge of the table, I folded my hands around my bent knee, one foot planted on the floor. “I didn’t come here as an adversary. My intent was to show my appreciation for the underblubber of Trenchant. I’ve seen all your unattractive parts, the dirty weight you strategically keep tucked away from ignorant eyes. You’re not America’s most wanted. You’re America’s best. Kept. Secret.”

  Man, the atmosphere was pissed off now, stretching tighter with every second, pulling on my skin. But if I’d walked in here shooting rainbows up their asses, they would’ve chewed me up and spit me out. Assholes respected assholes.

  I stifled a smile. “I don’t give a shit what you do. I just want to profit from it.” The lies had rolled off my tongue, but now I told them the truth. “I’m not having coffee with the FBI. I haven’t friend requested the CEO of Newswide.”

  The air strained, oxygen thinning, unleashed breaths ready to snap.

  “I’m here instead, accepting the job—”

  Kathleen jumped to her feet, her eyes afire. “We will not—”

  “—you will offer.” I leaned forward. “Because you don’t want an enemy with my skill set. An enemy that knows what I know. You need me on your side.” I glared at her until she snapped her trap shut and lowered into the chair.

  A sharp pain pounded through my head. From this bullshit act I was putting on? From the rot I was breathing in? I needed to get the hell away from these people.

  How could Kaci willingly work here? Because they’re family? Hard to believe that was the reason. She could nail an executive job anywhere. It didn’t make sense. She had to be involved.

  But I needed to be sure. The CEO’s security clearance, the level Benny hadn’t been able to hack, would give me unlimited access to Trenchant’s internal network, personnel files, e-mail accounts, every employee’s every mouse click, if I wanted it.

  The only reason I hadn’t shared my evidence with the world was so I could find out who all the players were—Kaci Baskel? Collin Anderson? Whomever else—and take them all down together. “I’m waiting for the offer.”

  Looks were exchanged, communicating in whatever silent language sick fucks used. Then three heads turned toward Trent.

  Since these people were well-acquainted with risk, they were probably considering making me wait a day or two while they determined if they could contain the damage of my threat. So I upped the stakes. “If anyone tied to the evidence dies—eye-witnesses, bribed cops, relatives of the victims, me—the documents will be automatically distributed.”

  Trent tapped a finger on the table, watching the movement, his expression a blank canvas. Without lifting his eyes, he said, “There will be press releases to prepare, a company-wide announcement, the standard HR rundown of compensation and benefits. Your security clearance will take time—”

  “You’re forgetting the other matter,” Dalton said with a sigh.

  Unbidden, my neck stiffened. “Your daughter’s contract.”

  Trent flicked his gaze to mine. “We’ll handle it.”

  What the almighty fuck did that mean? It took everything I had to maintain my relaxed pose on the edge of the table. Christ, if she was a victim in this, if they killed her— “Is she an outsider? Or have you let her into the family business?”

  A smile slithered over Trent’s face. “She’s our little darling in training. She does what she’s told. You don’t need to worry about her.”

  Darling in training? Jesus, that made her sound really fucking nefarious. Did she aspire to be like them? I stole a glance at her parents, and their smirks turned my stomach.

  I dug deep, gathering my most agreeable voice. “I’m her boss now. I need to know what I’m dealing with.”

  Trent narrowed his eyes. “She’s eager but naïve. Keep her on a short leash.”

  Christ, I was even more confused about her involvement than before. It was clear the marriage between her and Collin created a wholesome brand for Trenchant’s right-winged supporters, but… “Naïve? You mean she’s still learning how to”—Cheat? Steal? Murder?—“not get caught.”

  I waited for someone to correct me. No one did. Maybe I’d given away too much, revealing that my investigation of their children had slammed into a brick wall. But the lack of evidence could be owed to the fact that Kaci and Collin didn’t have the twenty-to-thirty year crime history their parents had.

  I glanced at the woman most concerned about appearances. “The contract ensures she doesn’t do something stupid and drive Trenchant into a scandal?”

  Kathleen nodded. “Precisely.”

  In return, it promised Kaci the CEO position, a promise that wouldn’t be realized. Stealing the job from her didn’t feel right, but that feeling was fed by my very strong desire to find her innocent while I took down her family.

  I blanked my face. Fingers slack. Voice steady. “Okay, so you’re going to set her up, lure her into an affair. And if she doesn’t bite?”

  Trent stacked the papers in front of him and stuffed them in the folder. “She’ll bite. I’m sending her to The Watch tonight on an errand, so I’ll see it done then.”

  So messed up. He’d plotted the ruination of his son’s marriage with less deliberation than he would give a menu at a restaurant. And he’d intentionally mentioned the club she would be at so I’d what? Volunteer for the job?

  I wanted to close my eyes and consider what was happening here, but if I did that, I’d imagine her with another man. No, I’d imagine her with me because picturing her with her husband or with a stranger set my fucking chest on fire.

  Was it too hopeful to think her encounter with Evader was…singular? That she was a good person, and cheating wasn’t commonplace for her?

  Pull your head out of your ass. You need this
contract negated.

  But I could volunteer to be the bait, the tempter. The other man.

  Fuck, I needed to shake this goddamned whatever that had my heart racing. She was never mine, would never be mine. For all I cared, Slutty Ducati could go where no slut had gone before. If she was weak enough to cheat on her husband, fuck her.

  “Assuming the contract is a non-issue…” I stood. “When do I start?”

  Trent rose as well, strolling my way, and the other three followed suit.

  He held out his hand, and when I grasped it, my skin recoiled against the dry scrape of his fingers.

  “You start now.” His grip tightened, his tone frigid. “Welcome to Trenchant.”

  The murmur of voices drifted around me, melding with the clink of champagne flutes and the deep, lonely notes of a saxophone. The acoustics in The Watch dispersed noise with subtlety, tricking the ears to disregard individual sound while luring the soul to fuse with the collective whole.

  I traced the stem of the martini glass, the aroma of alcohol tingling my nose, the soft laughter of a nearby couple caressing my skin. Maybe I’d be laughing too if Collin were here, but he was still at the studio. And as usual, Trent’s order had been nonnegotiable.

  Eight o’clock sharp. Wait at the bar. Accept the delivery. Don’t ask questions.

  Typical shady bullshit. What would it be this time? A nondescript envelope? A flash-drive? A whispered message of cryptic nonsense?

  Sometimes I thought he contrived this crap just to test me, to see how I would maneuver assignments shrouded in I-could-tell-you-but-I’d-have-to-kill-you, like some perverse rite of passage. Other times, these tasks seemed a little too authentic to discredit, like the tiny hairs raising on my arms.

  What if I was unwittingly meeting with mobsters? Aiding in felonies? I didn’t know the nature of Trent’s dealings.

  Buy hey, in a couple weeks, I would be CEO. Which meant I could fire the board, clean up the company, and never ever participate in shady shit again. I filled my lungs with a deep inhale.

  Until then, I didn’t have a choice. Follow his directive or sentence Collin to prison.