Damage Control

I feel those words like a punch in the chest, the idea of my mother being the one sane person in my family I’ve clung to, is shattering moment by moment. “How do you know?”

“He showed up at the restaurant, and it was pretty obvious between them but I wasn’t going to jump to conclusions. But then, your mother went to take a call, and I went to the bathroom. I rounded the corner and they were very intimate, his hands on her, the things they were saying—”

“I don’t want to know,” I say roughly. “Did they see you?”

“No. They did not.”

I release her waist and press my hands to the door above her head, my lashes lowering. My mind races and lands on the Sports Center, which takes on a new twist. Maybe my father wants to ruin Mike, not just control his vote. “Can my family get any more fucked-up?”

“Shane, I’m sorry,” Emily says, her hand flattening on my chest, over my racing heart. “Maybe your father’s cheating hurt her or maybe she’s coping with him dying.”

I open my eyes. “Or maybe she’s trying to control the vote.”

“Is that in your favor?”

“I have no idea anymore.” My hand covers hers. “Thank you. I needed to know. It pieces things together that now make sense.”

“What things?”

“Emily—”

“You aren’t going to tell me.”

“I need to do damage control. When it’s done—”

“Right. Because why would we do this together.” She turns for the door.

My hand flattens on her belly, my body arching around hers, and I press my cheek to her cheek. “Emily,” I say, and this time her name is roughened with the torment I feel over shutting her out and keeping her close at the same time that I know can’t continue. “I’m asking you to give me until tonight. Please. Just give me until tonight.”

She doesn’t immediately respond, and the seconds tick by until she finally says, “Just come home safely, Shane.”

I hold her for several more beats, looking for an answer, but there isn’t one I can give. I push off the door and she waits for me to speak, willing me to say what she wants to hear, what I don’t give her. She abruptly moves, opening the door and leaving without the promise that I will come home safely. Because that might not happen and I will not ever lie to her.

* * *

An hour later, I’m back at Nick’s warehouse, in the conference room with Nick and Seth on either side of me.

“Do I believe Brody and his wife were murdered?” Nick asks. “Yes. Is there proof?” He pauses, sipping from the black FBI mug he’s holding that matches his black FBI shirt, which is too much fucking FBI to suit me right now. As if he doesn’t agree, he decides to give me a little more. “So far, no, but the FBI is looking into it. This case is on their radar.”

“I don’t believe there is any way they will connect the dots to you at this point,” Seth says.

“The wife was the one connecting point,” Nick says, “and we can assume Adrian, and your brother, came to that same conclusion.”

“Or my father,” I say. “He knew about Brody’s wife, and not long after finding out—I’m paraphrasing here—he told me neither Mike, nor Martina, are going to control his company.”

“You think he had Brody’s wife killed?” Nick asks.

“No,” I say. “The only thing my father likes dirty is his money. Never his hands. I think he might have urged my brother to make the problem disappear. How Derek did it is on Derek. He also wants to buy the Sports Center Mike’s team plays in, and I don’t think it’s just about controlling Mike’s vote. Emily went to lunch with my mother today, and Mike showed up. She believes they’re sleeping together, and if my father knows, this just got personal for him.”

“Emily’s right,” Seth confirms. “We’ve been watching them. She visits frequently under the guise of redecorating for him.”

I cut him a look. “You knew it was more and didn’t tell me?”

“Apparently Mike and Maggie have suddenly gotten careless,” Nick supplies. “It tends to happen when people go undetected for a while, and feel invincible.” He slides a folder to me. “Those are photos we took of them early this morning. She stayed at his house last night, which has not been the case, in the past.”

I don’t even think about opening that folder. It’s enough to have to see my father’s mistress in my own building. “Other than pictures, what do you have for me?”

“We still can’t tell you whose side he’s on,” Seth says. “His only connection is your father.”

“My father is a man of many double standards. He might fuck around on my mother, but he doesn’t want her fucking around on him. Or maybe he does and she does. I have no clue, but Mike and my father have a long history, and that changes everything.” My teeth grind together. “Whoever’s side Mike is on, my father is against it.”

Seth narrows his eyes on me. “What are you thinking?”

“The same thing I’m sure my father is thinking. That my mother is far more of an opportunist than I gave her credit for being. She sees Mike and/or Derek running the company in the future, and she wants to be right there with them.”

“That puts your father on your side, and you at the head of the table.”