Look at me. I did this to you. Remember me.
—Sonny LoSpecchio
CHAPTER NINETEEN
SHANE
I wake the next morning to the sweet scent of Emily clinging to my sheets and the bitter memory of why I had to send her away. Drugs. Cartels. Enough lies to create a sinkhole that will swallow us all alive. This drives home why I did the right thing to push her away, but I regret sending her away, but it had to be that way. Had I touched her, if I touch her now, beyond that painful, searing last kiss, I’ll forget how easily I could put her in harm’s way. Knowing this, however, doesn’t keep my mind off her as I shower. Nor does it stop me from pairing my navy suit with the same blue and gray striped Burberry tie she’d chosen for me yesterday. My way of telling her that she might be gone from my immediate life right now, she is not forgotten.
Heading downstairs, I make coffee, and cup in hand, I head to my home office, where I settle behind the desk, my phone next to me, my gaze falling to the wall Emily and I worked our butts off to turn into a bulletin board. Among the data pinned there are true jewels of information I can use to grow the pharmaceutical division, none of it relevant if I don’t shut down the threats to the company that the Martina family, and my own, represent to our security and safety.
Glancing down at my tie, my concern over Emily being too close to potential danger has me reaching for my cell phone, punching in her number. The call goes straight to voice mail. Grimacing, I decide against a message to confirm today is her last day working for my father. It could be taken as cold, rather than concerned, which is what I intended. Whatever the case, her leaving the company today is not an option.
My cell phone rings and Seth is on the line. I turn my attention to the game of Go Fish, while Seth and I spend the next several hours setting our trap for William and hopefully Derek in the process. Namely, locking down surveillance on anyone either of them might contact after I’ve rattled a few cages today. By the time everyone we need to have eyes on is in view, it’s nearly two o’clock, and I drive to a coffee shop practically in the parking lot of the pharmaceutical plant. Parking by the door, I dial William Nichols, our suspected traitor. “Mr. Brandon,” he greets me amiably. “What can I do for you today?”
“I’m negotiating an acquisition that will directly impact your work and I need immediate feedback. I’m next door at Mountaintop Coffee. I need you to come over.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
“I’m right in the middle of—”
“Now,” I repeat, adding a hard push to my voice.
“Yes sir.”
I end the call and send a group text to Seth and Nick: I’m here and he’s on his way. I exit the Bentley and head inside, claiming a booth that allows me to see the door and setting my phone on the table, only to have it buzz. Glancing at the caller ID, I answer and hear Freddy “Maverick” Woods, the head partner of the firm I left for all this joy I’m living, say, “Have you considered my offer from last night?”
“I don’t remember saying I would.”
“You’d be the youngest senior partner in our history.”
Senior partner in New York, away from the Martina cartel, and with Emily by my side. I want it, but I can’t have it. “We talked about this. My father’s dying. I have a company to run.”
“Let your brother run it.”
“To the ground,” I say. “No thank you.” I push steel into my voice. “My answer is still no.”
“Subject to change?”
“Balls to the wall,” I say, repeating what he and I had said often in my days as his employee. “I’m here to stay.”
“I’ll ask again in a month.” He ends the call and I set the phone down.
“Shane.”
At the sound of a far too familiar female voice, I look up to find Lana Smith, an attractive brunette with her hair tied at the nape, standing at my table. She’s also a brilliant scientist, Will’s second in command, and a woman who’d been a much regretted college fuck buddy I prefer not to acknowledge.
“Do you have a moment?” she asks.
“If that,” I say. “I’m about to meet with your boss.”
“I’ll be fast,” she says, wasting no time settling into the seat across from me, and in typical Lana style, she leans in to expose the ample cleavage of her gray dress, which I ignore, as she adds, “I seem to have bad timing with you, though you buying the company I work for seems like a twist of fate.”
“Fate didn’t bring us together. Business did.”
“But what are the odds of you being the one behind the acquisition of a company I work for?”
“Big -money pharmaceuticals drawing the attention of a major conglomerate like Brandon Enterprises is more likely than not.”
“Right. Of course.” She gives me a keen look. “You haven’t forgiven me, have you?”
I don’t pretend ignorance I don’t appreciate in others. “It’s ancient history, Lana, and better left there considering I’m one of your employers.” My brow furrows as the past becomes a little too present to be ignored. “However, it is a bit ironic that you hid drugs in my car and almost cost me Harvard, considering you now work for a drug company.”
Her eyes go wide with surprise. “It was weed and we were young. You can’t seriously see that as an issue.”
I look at her, trying to decide if this is a red flag or a bad coincidence.
She obviously reads the questions in my silence, straightening in her chair, her attempts to show her breasts forgotten. “I’m good at my job. I’m one of the best in my field, an expert in—”
“I know your credentials.” My gaze flicks to the door, to the gray haired, slender man in a white button-down and khakis. “Your boss is here,” I say, leveling her with a stare. “Was there something you needed that I haven’t addressed?”
“Nothing we can cover with an audience.” She stands, and turns to greet William, who visibly jolts with her presence. “Hello, William.”
He looks at me. “I didn’t realize Lana was attending this meeting.”
“I’m not,” Lana says quickly. “If you remember, Mr. Brandon and I went to college together and I came for coffee and he was here and … I’m going back to work.” She steps around him and walks toward the counter.
Already focused on William, I motion for him to sit. “Thanks for coming.”
“It sounded urgent,” he says, joining me.
“I’m not going to mince words. It is.” He slips his hands under the table, a classic way to hide a tremble. “I didn’t bring you here to talk about acquisitions,” I continue. “I have a problem.”
He swallows hard. “What kind of problem?”
“The board of directors is not pleased with our profit margins.”
“That’s crazy,” he says, his hands finding their way to the table. “Our margins are exceptional.”
“They aren’t at the level you and I discussed.”
“We set a one-year goal,” he argues. “We’re only halfway there and on pace to be right on target.”
“That might be true, but I need something to excite the board, teasers that show we can be more and do more.”
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” I glance up at the sound of a male voice to find a man in a dark suit with graying hair standing by our table. “Actually,” he adds, grabbing a chair to the end of our table and sitting down, “I really don’t care if I’m interrupting.”
“Who the fuck are you?” I demand.
“Richard Jones is the name.” He reaches in his pocket, flashes a badge, and starts to put it in his pocket. “FBI.”
As soon as he hears “FBI,” William jerks his hands off the table, hiding them again, while turning fifty shades of green, proving my assessment of how soft he is to be true.
I tap the table. “I’ll take a look at that badge.”
The agent smirks but slides it across the table for my inspection. I give it a longer look than is necessary before sliding it back to him. “What can we do for you, Agent Jones?”
“I have questions,” he says. “And what better time to ask them than when you’re with your head of research and development.”
“You know who I am?” William asks, and then looks at me. “How does he know who I am?”
“It’s my job to know, Mr. Nichols,” Agent Jones answers.
“What can I do for you, Agent Jones?” I repeat.
His head snaps in my direction. “I’ll be direct,” he says. “I’m investigating a member of the FDA staff with some rather suspect drug approvals. In short, we believe he’s been taking cash payouts to improperly approve sometimes quite dangerous drugs.”
“‘Direct’ means explaining what this has to do with us,” I say. “Not throwing out the information in hope that we squirm.”
“You recently had a drug approved by this FDA representative,” Jones explains, his attention cutting sharply to William. “I assume in your role, you’d be the person deciding it was ready for submission?”
William pales. “I … I don’t know what drug you’re talking about. I submit many drugs for approval.”
“An asthma drug,” Agent Jones says. “The name escapes me, but then, I’m not a world-class scientist like you, William.”
“Tenza,” I supply the name of the drug connected to my brother’s FDA bribe. “It’s called Tenza.” I glance at William. “Did we get the official approval?”
“Just yesterday,” he replies. “I planned to document it in next week’s reports.”
“This approval must have been a shock,” Agent Jones interjects. “I mean, from what I read in the reports, even to me, a complete nonacademic, especially when it comes to the complexity of drug manufacturing, it’s not market ready. Surely a man with your experience, Mr. Nichols, knew that. Unless…” He looks at me. “Management told him to submit it, and you’d take care of the approval?”
“I don’t think I like where you’re going with this, Agent Jones,” I say, my voice low, hard.
“The FBI is far less concerned with what you think, than what you’re doing,” Jones replies dryly. “And if this is going where I think it is, it’s a good thing you’re an attorney. You might be needing those skills.” He stands and sets the chair back at the table behind him before giving me a mock salute. “I’ll be in touch.” He walks away and I watch his every step until he disappears, only then turning my attention back to William, who has turned yet a deeper shade of green.
“Is there something you need to tell me?” I demand.
“What? No. Of course not.”
“Agent Jones certainly seemed to think something is amiss.”
“I admit I was shocked the drug was approved, but I did nothing but submit it.”
Semantics, I think, leaning forward, and tightening my voice. “I plan to make Brandon Enterprises the greatest brand on the planet. Do not let me find out you’re working against that.”
“I’m not. I swear to you, I want the same thing.”
I don’t immediately reply, letting my gaze cut through him. “Go back to work.”
“What about—”
“Go back to work.”
He nods and quickly stands, all but running across the coffee shop. My lips quirk and I dial Seth. “I’m pretty sure William’s shitting his pants right now.”
“I have eyes on him and the man stumbled twice on the way to his car.”
“I’m headed to the office to show my outrage over what just happened and ensure the Brandon clan believes it was real,” I say. “I fully intend to use this to back Derek the fuck off, and hope I keep him in the shadows long enough to take over the board, and get him out of it for good.”
“Get him out for good,” he repeats. “You’ve never said that before, and let me tell you, those words are music to my ears.”
“Blood only goes so far,” I say, wondering how I understood that with my clients but only now accept it with my family. “I’ll give you an update after I talk to my father.” I start to hang up, but pause to add, “By the way. Tell Nick I still have my reservations about contracting an active federal agent for this job, but his man Jones made that easier to swallow. He played William like a star quarterback. If he didn’t break William today, he will.”
Thanks to a hellish traffic jam, it’s nearly an hour later when I arrive at the office and ride the elevator to our floor. Jessica let’s me know that Derek is in the building, and that he shut his door about the time Seth observed William standing outside the pharmaceutical plant on a phone call. I also know Emily’s still at her desk working. That’s a problem I’ll solve while chatting with my father about “Agent Jones.”
Entering the lobby, I offer the receptionist a two-finger wave and head down the hallway toward my father’s office, my blood pumping a little faster with the knowledge that I’m about to see Emily. Rounding the corner to her office, and my father’s, I stop at the sight of her on the phone, her gaze averted, and damn if my heart doesn’t race just looking at her. And my heart doesn’t race in reaction to anything, not even a courtroom full of people during closing statements.
She ends her call and her attention lifts, her eyes going wide as they land on me. I stride toward her, stopping in front of her desk. “Hi,” she says, her voice quavering ever so slightly, the high neckline of her black silk blouse reaches her collarbone, and is ten times sexier than Lana’s deep V.
My gaze flicks to my father’s office, and back to her. “Is he alone?”
“Yes.”
I lean forward, resting my hands on the desk, my gaze meeting hers. “Why are you still here?”
“I don’t want to leave.” She lowers her voice. “Shane. I can help you.”
“The way to help me is to give me the peace of mind to know whatever I do, won’t put you at risk.”
“Shane—”
“This isn’t a debate, Emily. You will not stay here.” I push off the desk and walk to my father’s doors, opening them without knocking.
“Holy fuck, son,” he grumbles as I step inside and shut the doors behind me. “Did I not bring you up with manners?”
“Mom brought me up with manners,” I say crossing to stand in front of his desk. “You just taught me to watch my back in case I have someone like you behind me.”
“And now you’re a killer in the courtroom,” he says, leaning back in his chair, white lines around his mouth that I suspect indicates nausea.
“You better hope I am. I was having coffee with our head of research and development for BP this afternoon, when we had an interesting guest.”
He arches a brow. “Was she pretty?”
I ignore the ridiculous comment. “She was a he and carrying an FBI badge.”
He leans forward, snapping out, “What did he want?”
“He’s investigating the FDA inspector Derek bribed, and now we’re back on the Feds’ radar.”
“Get us out of this,” he orders.
“I plan to, but you already know how fast things can escalate with the Feds. They won’t just look at the BP division, especially with our track record. They will, and probably already are, looking at every one of our divisions. Put that leash back on Derek and don’t tell me to do it. Not if you want me to be focused on fixing this.”
His eyes glint, a hint of anger in their depths he doesn’t try to hide. He might want my skills working for him, but he hates the power they give me. “I’ll handle Derek,” he says.
I give him a nod and begin to turn when he says, “One more thing, son.”
I face him again with an arched brow. “Emily told me you fucked her.”
Shocked at Emily’s actions, I check my reaction. “Are we really talking about who I’m fucking right now?”
“She also told me she’s not fucking you anymore,” he continues, as if I haven’t spoken. “She’s afraid of being fired and since she’s the only damn person who’s sat at that desk in a year that I can actually tolerate, I need to be clear. She’s staying.”
A ball of anger forms in my chest. “And if I object?”
“I’ll let you choose. Do you want me to control Derek or fire Emily?”
Ignoring the ridiculous question that dismisses the FBI threat we both know he isn’t dismissing, I turn and walk to the door, with every intention of handling Emily on my own. Exiting the office, I shut the doors behind me and discover Emily is no longer at her desk. Jaw set hard, I stride through the office and down the hallway, pausing at the reception desk. “Where did Emily go?”
“She just got on the elevator with Jessica,” Kelly replies.
The elevator it is. I start walking.
EMILY
Jessica and I step into the elevator and she punches the lobby level. “What’s wrong?” she asks as the doors shut. “You sounded panicked when you called.”
“I am,” I say, pressing my hand to my forehead. “I mean, I did the right thing, but—”
“What did you do?”
The elevator stops only two floors down, and she rolls her eyes. “Oh good gosh, not now,” she says, as the doors open again, and four people crowd us into a corner.
“What did you do?” she whispers.
“Not yet,” I say.
“Right. Not yet. This is killing me.”
“Try being me,” I murmur, enduring the rest of the ride by silently assuring myself I did the right thing, while worrying about Shane’s reaction.
“Finally,” Jessica says, as we hit ground level and follow the crowd out of the car.
“This way,” she says, linking her arm with mine, and leading me toward the garage, where we exit into the parking lot. She releases me. “What did you do?”
“Shane ordered me to piss off his father and get fired so that no one thinks I left because Shane is protecting me.”
She blanches. “What? Why? What happened to the whole ‘using you’ routine?”
“I don’t know. Something must have happened, which is why me staying is more important than ever. I’m sitting at the window, open to his enemies.”
She holds up her hands. “Okay. Okay. I have to tread cautiously here or Shane is going to hang me by my toes in some public place.”
In other words, she agrees with me, but works for him. “I’m not leaving,” I announce.
“Shane can just fire you himself.”
I shake my head. “Not anymore.”
“Once again. What did you do?”
“I told his father I slept with Shane, but that it’s over. I told him Maggie warned me that I was being used, which she did, by the way.”
“I told you that would happen.”
“Yes and it sucked but it helped me today.”
“This is holy batshit crazy.”
“I’m not even done yet. I told Brandon Senior I was afraid Shane would fire me and he promised me job security.”
“Oh my God, Emily. Major respect for you right now because that took courage, but Shane is going to be furious.”
The garage door opens again and my gaze jerks in that direction, finding Shane standing there, his expression hard and his eyes steely gray. “Speak of the devil,” Jessica murmurs softly.
Shane seems to hear her, flicking her a look. “Leave.”
She grabs my arm and squeezes before walking to the door, but before she exits, she pauses next to Shane. “She’s protecting you,” she says. “Don’t forget that.” She doesn’t wait for a reply—which I doubt she’d get—entering the building and leaving me alone with Shane.
He steps forward and I don’t know how, but without ever touching me, the man backs me against the wall, his big body crowding mine. Everything about him is big and angry. “What the hell was that?” he demands, his voice a tight band, ready to snap.
Quite clear on what “that” is, considering he just met with his father, I state my case. “You need me to stay. I have access to information that can help you.”
“What I need is for you to do what I tell you. No want. Need. Demand. Nothing has changed. Today is your last day. If you show up tomorrow, I will personally escort you out. Do you understand?”
I swallow hard against the hardness of his energy, and I want to argue, but I believe him. He will escort me out. I nod. “Say it,” he demands.
“I understand.”
He studies me for several heavy seconds, seeming to weigh my sincerity, before he steps back, giving me space I don’t want, my gaze falling on his tie to discover it’s the one I chose for him.
“Emily,” he says, a soft command demanding I look at him, and when I do, that connection is like an electric charge going through me, touching me everywhere when he is touching me nowhere.
“I won’t be the reason you get hurt,” he says, a vehement rasp to his voice. He turns and leaves, the door shutting behind him.
I swallow against the sudden thickness in my throat, and while his coldness hurts, no matter what his intentions, I remember two things only. What I’d felt when I looked in his eyes, along with him wearing that tie, tells me no matter how hard he’s pushing me away, it’s not the choice he wants to make. And if he really feels this is the right move, I’ll respect his wishes, but damn it, if today is my last day, I’m going to make it count. This good little soldier will leave here with every piece of data that can possibly help Shane win his war.