Bad Situation (The Montgomery Series Book 1)

by Brynne Asher

  You can do anything…

  I trust you…

  “Jen!”

  I flinch and turn to find Callie standing in my doorway. “I’m sorry. I called for you three times over the intercom and you didn’t answer. You were in another world.”

  She has no idea.

  I take a big breath and turn back to the floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over downtown Dallas. “It’s okay. What do you need?”

  She drops a bomb I wasn’t expecting. “You have a call from someone named Eli. He said you were acquaintances and you’d know who he was. He wouldn’t give his last name.”

  I turn my head so quickly, my hair flips over my shoulder and frown. “Eli?”

  “Yes. Should I put him through?”

  I turn away from her so she can’t see me. I’ve holed myself up in my office. It’s only lunchtime but I’m exhausted. So much has happened—my head is spinning, trying to keep up with it all. I never have trouble keeping up with anything. Ever.

  But Eli calling me? I know I shouldn’t talk to him even though I want to yell and scream at him right after thanking him for getting the bitch FBI agent to stop berating me with questions that were really just allegations. After all that’s happened in the last two days, speaking to him privately would seem as intimate as him touching me.

  And I remember how it felt when he touched me.

  Thinking of him makes me angry and miserable. I don’t like feeling either.

  “Should I put him through?” Callie repeats.

  I take a deep breath and exhale before turning. Who knows what he wants. What I do know, the man has stirred me in a way I’m twisted in knots. I can’t even eat. “No. I don’t know an Eli, please take a message. And go ahead and take lunch. Those reports can wait until later.”

  I catch her glancing at the clock before sending me a look of relief. Callie’s a hard worker and never takes advantage of the perks she gets from working here. We’ve been together for a little over a year.

  She smiles. “Sounds good. I’ll bring you the message before I leave.”

  I move behind my desk and give her a fake smile. “Enjoy the fresh air.”

  Resting my head in my hands. I have too much to do and don’t know where to start.

  “Here you go.” Callie walks in one more time with a file and a message on top. “Can I bring you anything? You should eat.”

  “I’m good. Thank you, though.” I take the papers and read the message innocently sitting on top, teasing me with the answers it might reveal.

  My stomach dips when I read the same phone number I memorized after finding his card covertly hidden in my desk yesterday. Below the number is a simple message and I know Callie enough to know she took it down verbatim.

  Call me as soon as possible.

  —Eli

  What in the hell is with this man?

  No sooner do I crinkle it into a ball and toss into the recycle bin, I decide the only way I’ll get my mind off things is a trip to the gym. But when I get up, there’s a scuffle outside my office.

  I close my laptop and move to the door as Callie’s voice rises, arguing, “How did you get up here? Wait, you can’t just barge into her office.”

  “This piece of paper says I can.” The voice makes my stomach drop and its owner appears in my doorway. A satisfied smile spreads across her makeup-free face and she holds up another piece of paper that looks similar to the one she arrived with yesterday when my office was basically ransacked. She’s with the other guy but Eli’s nowhere in sight. Special Agent Bree Newman turns from Callie before leveling her eyes on me. “Jensen Omera Montgomery, I have a federal warrant for your arrest for wire fraud and insider trading.”

  Holy fuck.

  *****

  “You have the right to remain silent.”

  The fuck, I’ll remain silent.

  “Callie,” I bite out, trying to turn where I can see her. “Get Patrick.”

  Callie panics. “I think I saw him go downstairs. I don’t know where he is!”

  “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

  “Call his cell.” I look at the other agent and ask, “Where are you taking me?”

  Click.

  “Federal courthouse.”

  “You have the right to an attorney.”

  If I can find him.

  “Call Patrick. Tell him to call Lehmans and get their asses to the federal courthouse,” I demand.

  “If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.” Special Agent Bree-fucking-Newman clicks the second cuff around my wrist and ad-libs her own addition to my Miranda rights. “But we all know you can afford your own attorney.”

  I look over at Callie, who’s standing there staring at my personal nightmare unfolding in front of her, wringing her hands and doing nothing. “Dammit, Callie. Go!”

  Her eyes jump to mine and, waking from her trance, she rushes to her desk.

  “Let’s go.” Bree tugs at my bicep and I do my best to shrug out of her hold.

  Looking back one more time, I yell over my shoulder, “And call my father!”

  *****

  Eli

  I glare at my new group supervisor, Larry Flemming, who, in the short time I’ve worked in the Lone Star State, has talked more about his stats than the quality of his cases.

  “You’re being taken off the Montgomery case. It’s being handed over to prosecutors as we speak. I’ve got a stack of files with your name on them as of this afternoon.”

  “Sir, if I may—” I start, but he cuts me off.

  “I know, I know. You do things differently.” He sits behind his desk and levels his eyes on me, surveying me more as an opponent than a subordinate. “And quite frankly, I look forward to my numbers benefitting from your savvy investigation methods.”

  “If I can just suggest—”

  “You’re off the investigation, Pettit. This isn’t New York City. Get used to it. You don’t get to pick your cases and I don’t give a shit what you want.”

  Fuck. If he wanted to put me in my place, he did a bang-up job of it.

  I stalk out of my new boss’s office and head back to my damned cubicle. After I went head-to-head with Bree this morning, I’ve been officially removed from the Montgomery case. Which would be a good thing if Jen would take my fucking calls. My gray area is shading darker—I didn’t give one fuck that I wanted to warn her of impending arrest. I have questions for her no one else is willing to ask—questions she should answer in front of her attorney. If she answers the way I think she will, then we need to talk—preferably alone—so I can explain what happened that night at the bar.

  If Jensen Montgomery is guilty of insider trading and wire fraud, then I’ve lost my edge and my intuition.

  I’ve got to find a way to get her to talk to me because, right now, I bet she’s downtown being processed with fucking drug dealers and murderers who deserve to be there. Since I’m officially off her case, there’s no way I can insert myself into the middle of her hearing without drawing unwanted attention. My gut might tell me she’s innocent, but there’s always that chance I’m wrong.

  I just hope to fuck I’m not.

  *****

  Jen

  Never in my life have I imagined a day like today.

  I’ve been arrested by the FBI, processed by the United States Marshals Service, had an arraignment hearing in federal court, and thank God, the prosecutor didn’t seek detention. Apparently, I’m not a flight risk despite my access to funds. I can even leave the state on business, should I need to.

  Go figure, they don’t fingerprint defendants with the black ink like they do on TV. It’s all done by scanner. Who thinks about shit like that? Not me. But since I outfitted myself this morning in a sheath dress the color of wheat right before harvest, I appreciate the fact my fingers aren’t stained.

  It was a miracle, but Callie finally got her head out of her ass long enough to find Patrick. He must’v
e broken every traffic law getting there, because he was waiting on me when I was ushered into federal court along with a small army from Lehmans and, shortly after, my father and Donny. All the money we’ve paid in retainer fees over the years must really hold some clout or else my attorneys at Lehmans are hungrier than Bree Newman. They got down to business fast.

  For the love of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness—they might as well have been speaking a foreign language. Some things they agreed with. Other things they impressively refuted. Motions were made, appeals were issued, they disagreed, and they conferred. Then some other courtroom mumbo-jumbo went down and I was hopeful this all meant good things for me.

  Although, after the last two days, good is a relative word.

  All I know is three hours later, I was walking down the front steps of the federal courthouse. My black Christian Louboutins with the delicate strap around my ankle were extremely happy to have not stepped foot into a jail cell today.

  Given the way things could have turned out, I’m pretty thrilled as well.

  I climbed into the back of the Escalade followed by my father and all his red-hot anger. Donny slammed the door and we were off as fast as a seven-year itch into Dallas traffic.

  “Has anything come out today about the Birmingham acquisition? Is the SEC going to put a hold on the process?” I ask my dad.

  He roughly rubs his face in frustration. “We found out this afternoon the SEC has their own investigation into the shares. We’ll see how that plays out in the next few days. Robert has been getting me up to speed this afternoon.”

  Feeling a loss of control in every way possible by being accused of something I haven’t done and my fate in the hands of attorneys whose language I don’t speak, I turn to Donny. “I need to go to the office to get my things and my car.”

  “You’re not going back to the office,” my father barks. “Reporters are parked out front and PR is still getting a handle on it. And you’re not driving yourself to work until this dies down.”

  I shake my head. The damn press.

  Donny glances at me with sympathetic eyes through the rearview mirror. “Tell me what you need, Jenny. I’ll go back and get your things and bring your car to you.”

  I close my eyes and let my head fall back.

  “I had a word with Patrick on the way out. I’m hiring a private investigator.”

  My head pops up and I look at my dad. “Really?”

  “Darlin’. We’re not going to flop around like a fish out of water and wait for this shit to work itself out. You’ve been set up and hell if I’m gonna go around my elbow to get to my thumb wasting time. Lehmans works with an investigator who specializes in cyber-crimes. They’re making the call as we speak.”

  I exhale and look out my window. “I’m only good with numbers, Dad. I suck at this legal stuff, so thank you.”

  “Oh, and your mama’s on her way to town. She’s madder than a wet hen in a tote sack and, from the sound of it, she’s made enough food for an army and wants to see her girl.”

  I groan silently. I love my mother, but I’m exhausted. I’m not sure I have the energy to deal with her tonight. “I’m a grown woman. I don’t need my parents fussing over me.”

  “She’s on her way which means you might as well be a baby again, ‘cause you don’t get a vote.”

  I roll my head to look at my father. “Do I ever get a vote?”

  Kipp Montgomery—who’s dressed in a dark suit that fits his large frame perfectly and is a complete contradiction to when he’s working his land—lifts his big hand just like when I was little and ruffles my perfectly smoothed hair into a mess. “When it comes to your mama, no. Ellie and Griffin are comin’, too. Griff’ll get your mind off things.”

  I look forward to seeing my sister and nephew, but close my eyes. “Please tell me Robert isn’t coming. I don’t want to rehash all of this tonight.”

  My dad shakes his head. “He’s got his hands full at work.”

  “I was going to drop you off out front, but it looks like they’re swarmin’ here, too.” I look out the front of the Escalade and Donny’s right. Media trucks are lined up in front of my building.

  My dad shakes his head. “Go around to the garage under the building, Don.”

  When the garage door lifts and Donny pulls around by the elevator, I tell him what I need out of my office and where to find my purse with my keys. As my dad and I are waiting for the elevator, I turn to him and can’t help my voice from shaking. “I don’t know what the hell’s going on, but I’m so sorry.”

  My dad’s strong, masculine features soften in a way that only happens for his family and never when it has to do with work. For the second day in a row, as my life seems to be falling apart, I find myself in his arms. “We’ll get to the bottom of it. I promise.”

  *****

  “Well, hush my mouth,” my mother complains. “If that wouldn’t make a preacher cuss, I don’t know what would.”

  Just like I didn’t want to do, we’ve rehashed the events of the last two days until they’re dead in the ground. Everyone knows my mother is at the end of her rope when she starts talking about cussing preachers.

  We just ate the semi-healthy dinner my mother brought. She loves her southern cooking, but suffered from a minor heart attack a few months back. She’s trying to change her ways and Cam’s fiancée, Paige, is a caterer and trying to help her with that. My dad always said you can’t teach an old goat new kicks—my parents have their own brand of crazy and wear it proudly—but she’s trying. Tonight, she brought grilled chicken, salad, skinny mashed potatoes—though, I’m pretty sure she cheated because they were rich as hell—and a fruit salad. But because she said the fruit salad was dessert, she just couldn’t help herself and topped it with marshmallow fluff and chocolate syrup, telling me I deserved something close to a s’more after the day I’ve had.

  She was not wrong.

  Ellie leans forward on my sofa and, with a heavy hand, fills my glass almost to the rim. When I raise a brow at my little sister from where I’m lying on the floor with her son crawling all over me, she just hitches a shoulder. “What? We’re not going for classy tonight. We’re trying to drown your sorrows in wine and fluff. Drink up.”

  Griffin, who is seven months old, drools into my neck where he’s giving me slobbery kisses and squeals when I tickle him.

  My dad walks out of the kitchen. “Just got off the phone with Patrick who’s been in contact with Lehmans. They’ve been busy—your case should be dead in the water for a while. They’re confident they’ll have plenty of time to investigate on their own and by the time prosecution presents their discovery, we’ll have what we need for a dismissal.”

  My insides relax slightly knowing, for now, time is my friend.

  Ellie stands and reaches for her son who’s got to be dehydrated from the drool. Griffin looks just like her, right down to the bluest eyes that they got from our mother. “I told you. Dad’s got the best attorneys on it and they’ll fix everything. I don’t know what’s going on, but you’re young, you’re smart, and you’ve proved you can handle the job—it makes you a target.”

  “She’s right, Jenny,” my mom agrees as she scurries to my kitchen to collect her dishes. “Let them take care of it and move forward. I’m lookin’ forward to your father takin’ more time off starting next year. No one’s gonna mess with our plans. Don’t you worry your pretty shoes over this and keep doin’ what you do best.”

  I take a healthy sip of my brimming merlot. “You always have to bring my shoes into it, don’t you?”

  She throws me a grin. “You have your shoes. I have my hats. We all have our vices.”

  “I’ve got to get Griff to bed and Robert will be home soon.” My lithe sister, who’s graceful in every way, bends to pick up her overflowing diaper bag and moves in to hug me. “Call me if you need more wine.”

  I pepper my nephew’s chubby face with kisses. “Thanks for coming. If you’re ever arrested and cha
rged in federal court, I’ll be there for you, too.”

  Ellie rolls her eyes and since my parents have a long drive to the ranch, they follow her out the door.

  My mom leans in to kiss me over her pile of dishes. “I want you to know that when this broke on the news today, that old woman, Margot Harrington, called me before I barely got a chance to get the details from your daddy. I gave her the what-for and, so help me, if I hear of her gossiping about you in Bible Study, I will rope that woman up and flog her myself.”

  I shake my head at my well-meaning mother. “You do know, the least of my worries is what your old church friends say about me, right?”

  That doesn’t matter to Hattie Montgomery. She’s tough as nails when it comes to her children. “She’s not my friend. I know you don’t care, but I do. Doesn’t matter that we go to church together, she’d better watch when the Fourth of July rolls around and she has her big bar-b-que. I’ll shoot a roman candle right up her backside.”

  “With that, we’ve gotta hit the road,” my dad interrupts and plops a kiss on top of my head. “Donny’ll pick you up in the morning. Don’t you dare drive yourself to work.”

  “I promise and thanks for dinner.” I stand at the door as they make it down the hall to the elevator before locking the world away.

  I’m on the tenth floor of my building. Besides my bedroom, home office, three bathrooms, and the laundry room, it’s all open and I usually love it. But tonight, it seems bigger and lonelier than normal. I usually don’t have the time to contemplate this as I normally focus on work—thinking about our bottom line, the next acquisition, or how we can operate more efficiently while still protecting the environment.

  I’ve never had to ponder drummed-up federal charges, why my name is being dragged through something like this, or more importantly, my freedom. Lehmans, Patrick, and my father can assure me all day long this will go away, but they’re not the one being accused.

  I take my almost overflowing glass of wine to the side of the room and sit in the most comfortable chair I own. It sits alone, facing the bank of windows that span floor to ceiling, looking out over the twinkling lights of downtown Dallas.