Chapter Twenty-Six
Trey terminated the computer search program with a click of his mouse. He could have sworn he heard a heartfelt sigh from the Brotherhood mainframe, the computer resources now diverted to other areas, the five-year run grinding to a halt at a finger’s touch.
It’d been almost a week since he’d marched out of Ally’s room, but he hadn’t had the heart to turn it off until now, not wanting to accept his search was finally over.
He still hadn’t called Nick’s parents. There was nothing to say to them, nothing he could offer other than tell them about a man who said he didn’t remember that night and who was immune to prosecution due to a lack of evidence. It would hurt more than heal, rip the skin open, and toss a handful of salt into the wound.
He glanced at the framed photograph.
I’m sorry. So damned sorry…
He scrubbed his eyes with clenched fists. The last few days had been hell—he’d only eaten when his stomach had growled, diving into intense workouts in the gym to try and quiet the demons screaming in his head. Exhausted and sore, he’d drag himself to bed, but it was no use. A few hours later, he’d be back up, prowling the club looking for something to do.
Trey got up and walked out of the computer room. He was on duty in a few minutes, and he didn’t want to be late.
Work was the only thing keeping him sane. It was as if he was living in a dream, unable to focus on anything or anyone since leaving Sheldon Construction.
Leaving Ally.
He took the elevator up to the main floor then ducked and weaved through the loud and boisterous crowd on the way to his usual station. Finn was up there, tapping his foot to the live band and smiling.
Finn gave him a sideways glance as Trey climbed the stairs and moved to stand beside him on the catwalk, the position giving them an excellent view of the dance floor.
“No ninja moves?”
Trey bit back the curse dangling on his tongue. “Not in the mood.”
Finn turned his attention back to the crowd. “Been a few days of that.”
“Yeah, well…” Trey scratched the back of his neck. “Just a rough patch.”
“I heard.” Finn didn’t turn his head. “Too bad things didn’t work out.”
“Yeah.” He was grateful for the lack of conversation.
“Watch out for the coffee in the break room. Jessie’s been making it again.”
Trey ignored the jibe and studied his watch, calculating the time until Vincent would be making the big presentation.
Sheldon Construction would rise or fall on the man’s ability to make it through a meeting without a stiff drink.
He couldn’t help thinking of Ally.
What are you going to do if Vincent succeeds?
What are you going to do if he fails?
…
The morning sun cut through the blinds like a series of long, bright knives, creeping across the floor to the couch where Ally sat reviewing her notes for the thousandth time.
She had her feet tucked up under her as she studied her tablet, her stomach twisting into knots. She hadn’t been this nervous since her final exams in university.
The past few days had been frantic, preparing Vincent for the presentation. Meanwhile, the seeds she’d planted during her meetings before Vincent’s return were starting to bear fruit, messages coming in for possible future projects and offers to meet again. But she felt off-balance, as if she’d just stepped off a carousel spinning way too fast.
She resisted the urge to call Sheldon’s security expert again. Three days ago, he’d sent an update, telling her he was still digging but was making progress.
And then…
The nearby door swung open, slammed into the wall.
“Hey!” The shout brought her up and out of her thoughts.
Vincent stomped out of his room, waving his tablet in the air. He wore a white dress shirt and blazer, the jeans brand-new. His hair was pulled back into a tidy ponytail, the expensive manicure leaving his hands neat and tidy.
“What the fuck did you do to Capprelli?”
“Who?” It took her a few seconds to rewind her memory to the interaction with the site manager. “Oh, Capprelli. What about him?”
“You said you’d fine him if he had any more accidents, threatened to dock his pay. Son of a bitch is now running behind schedule.” He snarled as he held up the tablet. “So now we’re screwed for the early opening.”
“The early opening was only on paper. No one knew about it outside of the company. That was never a guaranteed thing,” she replied, resisting the urge to get up and face him. “It was a stretch objective if the stars aligned and everything went according to plan. We’re still going to finish on time.” She shook her head. “I told Capprelli we weren’t going to have people injured so he can get his bonus for finishing early.”
He glared at her across the coffee table. “That wasn’t your call.”
“You weren’t here,” she shot back. “So, Trey and I…”
“Fuck Trey. Oh, wait. You did.” He laughed. “Sorry, sorry. Couldn’t pass that one up.” He put his hands on his hips. “Listen, you didn’t have the authority to tell Capprelli that, and sure as hell Trey didn’t. If Capprelli knew he wasn’t working for the company, he would have blown him off. Besides, you put us in a bad spot with your boyfriend impersonating an employee. Do you have any idea how much trouble we could be in if someone took that news and ran to the press?”
Anger flashed through her, burning over the emotional scars. “But…”
“I’ve sent a memo telling Capprelli to get the fuck back on schedule, kick ass on the site and hurry the hell up. We’ll pay off anyone who gets hurt, keep the paperwork from happening.”
“What?” She was up and off the sofa, facing him. “You can’t do that.”
“I can, and I did.” Vincent stood his ground, the coffee table between them.
“And what if people are injured or killed? No amount of money is going to give them back a hand or a foot.” She shook her head. “No. Call him back. Tell him to forget the push, stay on the new schedule. We’ll finish on time and safely.”
“No.” He eyed her. “You figure you know all about this business, but I’m the one who went with Dad to every site and sat in on every meeting.” He tapped his chest. “I’m not an idiot. I’ve seen how far you can push managers. Some of them need an incentive—if it’s not waving money at the end of a stick, you use the stick. Dad used to do it. I do it.” He rolled his shoulders. “It’s an acceptable risk, and Capprelli’s an excellent site manager.”
Her mouth fell open as she digested his words, her head spinning.
“Listen, we make a good team. You handle the public relations, I bust some balls, and the jobs get done. We’ve been okay for years—don’t toss this all away because some guy put ideas in your mind. Don’t mess with a good thing.” His eyes narrowed. “Don’t.”
“Or what?” She narrowed her eyes. “Tell me what you’d do, Vincent. Enlighten me. Sure, you can tell the press about Trey not being a legit employee—and I’ll give an interview about you embezzling thousands of dollars from Sheldon Construction and losing it between drunken binges and gambling. Maybe get that loan shark on camera. Bet he’d love to talk about you dropping your watch on the table for one last, desperate hand.”
Suddenly he was up in her face, far inside her personal bubble. She could smell the sickly sweat on him. Her stomach twisted into a greasy, cold ball as he pulled his lips back, showing his teeth.
“Don’t even think about it.” The low whisper ground against her skin. “My family took you in when no one else wanted you. What do you think pulling a stunt like that’s going to do?” He continued, not giving her a chance to answer. “Everything’ll go down. It’ll all fall apart. You want to destroy this company, everything your father built? What’s your legacy going to be then, hmm? What’s the Sheldon name going to be worth after that?”
“What’s it worth now?” she snapped. “Maybe you should be thinking about that.”
He glared at her, suddenly at a loss for words.
She turned and walked out, her heart racing.
…
Trey wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, the wraps tight against his knuckles. He’d been working the heavy bag for the past hour, the chains rattling from the ceiling as he made it dance under his jabs and punches.
“Looking good,” Finn called over from where he was lifting light weights. “Call out if you need a hand.”
Trey didn’t answer, too busy laying down a combination of blows. He still didn’t know what to do about Ally and Vincent, if anything.
Every night since he’d left her standing there angry in the living room, he’d dreamed of her. No escape, no getting away, no matter how much he worked himself physically and mentally.
Every episode ended with her angry accusation that he’d used her to get to Vincent. The problem was he wasn’t totally innocent of the charge.
“Shit.” Finn’s curse brought him around, ready to help out if needed.
The barbell clattered onto the dark blue exercise mat with a thud.
Finn gazed at the wide-screen television in the corner. “Construction accident out on the edge of town. Weren’t you out there with Ally?”
Trey stared at the screen, frowning as he tried to take in the images.
Flames. Firemen racing around. Ambulances pulling up.
His heart skipped a beat as the camera shot drew back, giving him a wide view of the scene. The Sheldon Construction sign was visible, standing tall and proud as the first responders dashed by.
He recognized it immediately.
“Yeah. I was.” Trey went over to where the remote lay on the far bench. He tapped the sound button, raising the volume.
“Firefighters have confirmed at least two dead and three injured. The cause of the collapse and fire is still under investigation. The Fire Marshall and police investigators are on the scene, waiting to gain access to the buildings.”
The image switched to a local reporter standing in front of the fire engines, a young brunette holding a microphone.
“I’ve spoken to some of the surviving construction workers, and they suggested speed might have been a factor, certain safety issues going ignored for the sake of time and money. They wouldn’t go on camera with their statements, but there’s no doubt they will be interviewed by officials seeking the truth behind this horrible accident.”
The helicopter hovered over the area, giving them an eagle’s-eye view of the fire. It had devoured two half-built houses, the skeletal remains now only charred shadows of their original form.
“I was there,” he murmured to himself, turning the volume back down.
Finn eyed him, shaking his head. “Don’t you take this on yourself.” He pointed at the screen. “You don’t work for Sheldon Construction. You never did, technically. What happened has nothing to do with you.”
“It has to do with her.” Trey stared at the images, crossing his arms. “Vincent must have reversed her ruling, let Capprelli have his way again. And now people have died.”
“So, what are you going to do?” Finn picked up one of the weights and replaced it on the rack. “Sit here and mope, or go the hell out there?” He caught Trey’s eye. “She’s going to feel like shit over this, and Vincent’s not going to be any help.”
“She told me to leave,” Trey said. “She said she didn’t want to see me again.”
Finn shook his head. “You can’t hack into a woman’s system.” He dropped another weight onto the metal bars. “Look at it from her side. She’s enjoying the freedom of getting to run the company her own way, without that idiot interfering. She’s worried as hell about Vincent, but you’re there, softening the situation. You’re her backup. Her safety net.”
Trey swallowed hard, his eyes darting from the silent images to Finn’s face and back.
Finn continued. “Now Vincent comes back, and he’s as much of an asshole as he was before. You confront Vincent and put her on the spot, caught between the man she just spent the night with and her adopted brother. What the hell did you expect her to do?” Finn gestured up at the screen. “She’s going to need a shoulder to lean on. You think he’s going to give her that?”
He didn’t need any more prompting.
Trey tossed the remote onto the bench and spun around, heading for the door.