Hard Pursuit

by Sheryl Nantus

  Trey sat, unable to catch his full breath.

  Someone came over with a mop, cleaning up the blood. Around him the murmuring picked up again, the encounter fueling the lunch customers’ gossip.

  The waitress came over and put a bottle of water in front of him, unasked. The condensation from the cool bottle dripped to puddle on the table.

  Trey picked it up and pressed it to his forehead.

  How much did she hear?

  How much did she see?

  He dug out his phone with his free hand. He hesitated, seeing the blood drying on his arm.

  No.

  He needed to sort his own mind out before even considering calling Ally.

  His attention turned to his coffee, abandoned on the table. He snatched up the mug and threw back the last of the hot liquid before pocketing the coaster.

  He had work to do.

  …

  Ally sat on the curb, trying to catch her breath. She pressed one hand to her stomach, forcing the nausea down. The short-lived rush of the morning’s success had turned into foul-tasting bile, burning her throat.

  He murdered that man.

  Before, she’d been willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

  She’d wanted to believe Vincent.

  But for him to come here and brag to Trey, brag about driving off and getting away with the hit-and-run…

  She bowed her head as her stomach heaved again, and rested on her arms until the nausea had passed.

  The confession made all the difference in the world.

  And Trey’s reaction…

  She let out a deep sigh, her heart aching. She couldn’t imagine how he must have felt, hearing those horrible words about his friend, about himself.

  About her.

  Her inner voice took over, the cold, hard logic pushing down the emotional rush rippling through her.

  Don’t kid yourself. You know how Vincent thinks, how he fights.

  Vincent wouldn’t miss a chance to drag you into this, tell Trey what he thought about the two of you being together. He’d blame Trey for your recent actions, your refusal to play the supportive sister any longer, and your taking over the presentation and sealing the deal.

  The presentation.

  Ally scrubbed her face with both hands and rose, steeling herself.

  She didn’t have time to sit here and feel sorry for herself. There was work to do, decisions she needed to make and act on.

  A file she needed to open and study.

  She raised her hand and caught the attention of one of the cabs driving by.

  Enough.

  You might not be able to fix the world, but you can fix what’s within reach.

  Time to step up.

  …

  Trey sat in his office and scanned the nightclub floor through the monitors. The lunch customers had trickled out, likely rushing back to tell their coworkers the exciting story about how they saw a fight.

  Well, a single punch.

  A sharp jab.

  A crybaby falling on his ass with a broken nose. And a follow-up chokehold that could have gone very badly if Trey hadn’t pulled back in time and let him live.

  Edgar, thankfully, had let it happen. Trey suspected the older veteran was fed up with Vincent’s antics and at the breaking point—the revelation about the car accident combined with recent events was enough.

  At least he hadn’t tried to interfere.

  “Hell of a lunchtime show.” Finn came in the open door and settled in the chair across from him. “What are you going to do now?”

  “Now…” He placed the coaster on the table. “Now, I get my justice.”

  Finn’s eyes widened. “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “Fuck.” Finn stared at the thin wafer as if it were the Holy Grail. “I didn’t even know you still had those around. After Dylan decided we weren’t going to have any operations take place here at the club if we could help it…”

  “I never throw anything away,” Trey said, peeling the top off with his fingernail. Inside lay a micro recorder. “On the way in from the loading dock, I snatched it up. Told Noelle to make sure Vincent got his non-alcoholic coaster and for me to get this one with our coffees. Turned it on when I gave it to her.”

  He glanced at Trey. “That’s why you invited him in?”

  “A long shot. His pride got the best of him—bastard wanted to brag about what he’d done.”

  “Admissible?”

  “I expect his lawyers will toss up that he was drunk and not in full control of himself.” Trey couldn’t hold back a smile. “But it’s more than I had before.”

  “Does Dylan know?”

  “Not sure.” Trey looked up at the ceiling. “I’m taking this to him right now. We’ll give Mac a call and see what connections work best.”

  Finn frowned. “You don’t sound totally happy about this.” He nudged a thumb toward the front door. “Ally?”

  “Yep.” He sighed. “I have no idea what to do.”

  “How much did she hear?”

  “I don’t know. Could have been all of it, could have been none of it. She saw what I did to him, though, and she turned and walked out.”

  On me.

  On us.

  “Are you sure that’s what you saw?” Finn glanced toward the front door. “You’ve got Vincent on tape confessing to vehicular manslaughter, if not outright murder. Should be enough to get her to walk away from her brother, whether she hears it now or hears it in court.”

  Trey drank some water. “It’s got to be what she wants, not what I want. Turning her back on family…” He shook his head. “That’s hard.” He scratched his chin. “Vincent was right on that point.”

  “But you know it’s not going to get any better.” Finn leaned the chair back on the rear legs, balancing precariously. “If he doesn’t get convicted on this, he’ll do something again, push everyone to the edge.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.” Trey pulled out his phone and placed it on the table. “I might have just lit the fuse.”

  “Don’t.” Finn’s sharp tone shocked him. “Don’t call her. At least, not right now.” He rocked on the chair. “She’s got to figure out where she stands and who she is on her own.” Finn dropped the chair back to the floor with a loud thump. “Otherwise you’ll be doing exactly what her brother accused you of—playing her. This is one fight you can’t do for her. She’s got to face this herself.”

  “Smart-ass. Guess Skye’s been rubbing off on you.” Trey shook his head. “Screw this. I’m going to go beat the hell out of something.” He picked up the recorder. “But not before I deliver this to Dylan’s office and tell him to call Mac. Get the wheels turning on this and see what we can manage.”

  …

  Vincent stumbled into the shared suite with a loud curse. “Fuck. Idiots at the hospital made me wait an hour before they got to me.” The nasal wheezing sent his voice up an octave, adding a humorous note to his ranting.

  Ally looked up from her laptop, her heart racing as she lowered the screen. It took all she had to stay still, not to leap up and add to Trey’s work on Vincent’s face.

  “Look at this. Your goddamned man whore did this to me.” Vincent gingerly touched the tip of his nose under the white bandages crisscrossing his face. “He attacked me. Son of a bitch jumped me when I wasn’t looking.” He snarled at her. “What the hell were you doing following me?”

  “Making sure you didn’t get hurt. Guess that didn’t work.”

  “You’re full of it today,” Vincent shot back. “Let me guess. You figured you’d beat me there, warn your boyfriend I was coming for him. Too bad—I put my foot down and told him to stay the hell away from you and from Sheldon Construction. We don’t need him poking his nose into our business. He’s done enough damage.”

  She returned her gaze to the screen. “I guess so.” She nipped the inside of her cheek to keep her temper in check.

  Vincent winced as he sat on the couch. “I
’m going to call the lawyers, put that damned club out of business, along with that bitch private investigator.” He grunted. “So now that we’re done with the asshole, back to work.”

  “Okay.”

  “Yes.” Vincent rolled his head back onto the cushions. “Fuck, this hurts.” He gestured at Edgar. “I need a drink.”

  Edgar shook his head. “I wouldn’t advise it. You got some prescription painkillers and…”

  Vincent got up again. “Look, you work for me. You’re lucky I don’t toss you out on your ass for not taking that jerk on.” He stood in front of Edgar, his bruised face turning scarlet. “You stood right there, right there, and let him hit me.”

  Edgar didn’t flinch. “My job is to keep you from getting into trouble. But I can’t save you from yourself.” His jaw tightened. “Not any longer.” He nodded at Ally before locking eyes with Vincent. “I quit.”

  “What?” Vincent took a step forward. “What the fuck, Eddie? You want a raise? I’ll authorize one, just pour me a drink.”

  “No.” Edgar shook his head. “No more drinks, no more driving you around, no more chasing you into bars and out of trouble.” He sliced the air with his hand. “I’m done with this and with you. I’ve held your hand for years, hoped against hope you’d come to your senses and buckle down to work. But you’ve gotten worse—ducking out on me through bathroom windows, paying people to distract me.”

  Edgar sighed, a low, annoyed noise that reminded Ally of her uncle. “You scared the crap out of me this last time. I was worried you’d gotten mugged or worse. For God’s sake—we thought you got torn to death on some train tracks. I’ve waited long enough for you to grow up. Five long years waiting for you to become a man, take responsibility for your actions in and out of the boardroom. But you’re always blaming someone else—if it’s not Ally, then it’s me or one of the other staff.” He crossed his arms. “No more. Your parents hired me to care for you, but it’s obvious there’s no shepherding you anymore. You’ll do what you want no matter who you hurt. Or kill.” He snarled. “You just made me an accomplice, you asshole. I heard you confess to running those men down in New York City. What the hell am I going to do now?” He pointed at Ally. “What is she going to do?”

  She flinched inside, realizing Vincent’s confession in the nightclub had pushed Edgar over the edge.

  Vincent’s mouth opened and closed a handful of times before he found his voice.

  “Ally’s family. She understands.” He turned toward her. “You get it, right? I was just running my mouth, giving the jerk what he wanted to hear. He taunted me into it.”

  She nodded, holding back tears at his vain attempt to lie his way out.

  Vincent looked at Edgar. “You work for me. You can’t go to the cops. You can’t do anything.” Sweat appeared on Vincent’s forehead. “The contract you signed with my father—there was a nondisclosure agreement. You keep secrets. All of our secrets. You’re an employee. The lawyers won’t let you testify against me.”

  “I guess we’ll see.” Edgar stepped back. “I’ll pack up my stuff and send an email to your parents notifying them of my resignation, effective immediately.” He nodded to Ally. “Trey’s a good man.”

  “I know.” She wasn’t sure what else to say in response, the emotional ground shifting under her feet.

  “Not too many of them out there. Might want to keep that in mind.” Edgar turned away, ignoring Vincent. He went into the adjoining suite and closed the door.

  Vincent spun on her. “What the hell are you up to?”

  “What?”

  “This.” He waved his hands around. “All this. The presentation, the nightclub, Edgar leaving. Is this all some sort of big plan to drive me crazy?”

  She frowned. “No. This is all your own doing.” She rose and moved toward him. “You’ve made these decisions, and you have to live with them. Edgar leaving, your broken nose—nobody’s responsible for that other than you.”

  A chat window opened on her laptop screen, blinking for attention.

  There they are.

  “Excuse me. I have work to do. You should rest.” She picked up her laptop and headed for her own suite, leaving him behind.

  “Ally.”

  She looked over her shoulder.

  Vincent spread his hands, his eyes wide. “You believe me, right? I was just jerking that guy around, telling him what he wanted to hear to get under his skin. Payment for all the shit he caused us.” He glanced at the closed door. “Eddie, he’s overreacting. He’ll come around once he cools off. He knows I didn’t hurt anyone.”

  “Don’t worry,” she said, her heart sinking. “We know who we can count on.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “This…” Dylan picked up the recorder and spun it between his fingers. “Is dynamite. Good move.”

  “Bad one on Vincent’s part,” Trey replied. “He was so pissed at me and at Ally for taking over the presentation, he didn’t think twice about coming to me and screaming his confession.”

  “But it’s possibly inadmissible.”

  Trey blinked, unsure he’d heard correctly.

  Dylan shook his head. “The bastard was intoxicated when he said this. Hard to hold a drunk’s word against him. You can tell by the way he speaks—it’ll be the first thing his lawyer brings up. Including my reference to him bringing his own booze in to spike his coffee.”

  Trey swallowed back a surge of nausea.

  “But we’re going to try our hardest. I’ll get Mac on the line and tell him we’ve got something to add to what we already sent over. You get the data ready to fly.” Dylan glanced at the window looking out onto the club. “And Ally?”

  “I don’t know how much she heard. But it was enough for her to cut and run.”

  “Don’t be too tough on her,” Dylan warned. “It’s one thing to have an alcoholic, embezzling idiot adopted brother. Another to find out he’s a murderer with no remorse. Not to mention her feelings for you.” He waved Trey out. “Send me all you’ve got—shadows included. We’ll never have a better chance to make this happen. Let’s take the shot.”

  “As soon as I get this done, I’m going to fly out and see Nick’s parents,” Trey said.

  “Done. Take as long as you want,” Dylan said without hesitation. “Just stay in touch. I’ll call if Mac comes back with something.”

  “Thanks.” Trey let out a sigh. “I figure they deserve as much closure as I can give them.”

  “You’ve done all that you can. It’ll be more than enough.”

  “No. Enough would be putting Vincent Sheldon behind bars for life.” Trey shook his head. “But this is better than nothing.”

  …

  She missed Edgar.

  The strong, silent man had been in the background for so many years, she thought she wouldn’t notice him not being there.

  She was wrong.

  Vincent had gone on a bender not long after Edgar had left. He’d gone to the mini bar and pulled out all the bottles then dragged them back to his bedroom. Ally had ordered in dinner via room service, listening to him rant and rave behind closed doors.

  She didn’t engage him. She had work to do.

  The return phone calls came one after the other, checking and verifying her requests. The lawyers confirmed her actions were legitimate, her accountants double-checking the numbers and coming to the same conclusions she had.

  During a lull in the calls, she turned her attention to the folder on her desktop and the data within. She needed a plan of action, a way to get it into the best hands possible.

  Which, Ally noted with a sigh, might not be the police. At least, not directly. Her uncle had managed to keep Vincent out of jail once—she didn’t want to give him a second chance to keep her adopted brother from the punishment he deserved.

  She dug a familiar number out of her files and dialed it, wincing when she heard the message. A brief voicemail, then she went back to dealing with Sheldon Construction.

  A few hour
s after the confrontation at the club, the phone rang.

  Ally winced, seeing the caller identification. But she couldn’t put this call off.

  “What the hell is going on there?” Betty asked, skipping over the pleasantries. “Vincent’s hurt? He called us—he’s so upset.”

  “Only a broken nose. He’s had it seen to—it’ll heal straight and won’t destroy his handsome appearance.” It was hard to keep her anger from filtering through. “He’ll survive.”

  “That’s intolerable. From what we understand, he was attacked without a chance to defend himself. In a nightclub, of all places.” Her tone shifted. “I heard your hacker was involved. Is this true? Is that why no one called the police?”

  “Yes, it was Trey. Vincent went to the nightclub to confront him and got exactly what he deserved, in my opinion. No, there won’t be any charges filed. They wouldn’t stick, and besides, Vincent was in the wrong.”

  Her adopted mother stuttered for a second before interrupting. “And Edgar quit? What did you do?”

  “I did nothing.” Ally snapped. “Vincent pushed him too far. This can’t be that much of a surprise to you—Vincent’s been treating him like trash for years.”

  “You should have done something,” she whined.

  “What did you want me to do?”

  “Talk him into staying. Offer him a raise, more vacation days, whatever it took.” She paused. “Hold on.”

  Henry came on the line. “Hello, Ally.”

  The deep rumbling voice tapped into her memories, drew her back to a time when she looked up to him.

  “Darling, we’re just worried about you and Vincent. The business, too, of course.”

  Of course.

  He cleared his throat, a sign the conversation was about to turn away from the personal. “We understand you took over the presentation.”

  “I did,” Ally said. “Your son was too hungover. From the looks of it, he’d been drinking all night, right up until the damned meeting, I suspect.”

  “But…”

  “No.” She slashed at the air with her hand, finding strength in the action. “I’m done. Done with it all. You made me an unwilling accomplice to Vincent’s crimes. The hit-and-run in New York City—did you think I’d never find out? He remembers it all. Consider that for a second. He lied to you and to me, to the best friend of the man he hit.” She fought to keep her voice level. “Vincent taunted Trey with the information. He teased him with the fact that he knew he’d run the car up on the sidewalk and killed someone.” Her voice broke. “Henry… how could you keep this from me? How could the two of you help Vincent get away with it?”