Chapter Twenty-Eight
Trey slammed the car door hard enough to bring Patrick out from under the hood of the Hummer he was working on. He raised a disapproving eyebrow as Trey threw the keys into the cabinet, bouncing them off the back wall and onto the floor.
Trey sighed before picking them up and placing them on the hook labeled for the truck.
“Sorry. Bad day,” Trey answered as he headed for the break room. He was hungry, pissed off, and ready to rip someone’s head from their shoulders.
Vincent would be a fine start.
He grabbed a six-pack of cold beer out of the refrigerator and headed up to the roof, grateful for the lack of traffic in the basement. It was barely noon, the sun high in the sky. The only people in the club would be working, getting ready for the lunch opening.
Perfect for some heavy-duty brooding.
Hell. Everything had gone to hell, and he had no idea how to fix it.
He sat on the edge of the building, letting his feet swing free, and popped a can open.
Fuck this. Fuck that. Fuck everything and everyone.
He drained half the can in a single gulp. He could still smell the charred wood, the thick, acrid scent getting up in his nose. It’d take a long, hot shower to erase that from his senses.
Too bad he couldn’t do the same with his desire for Ally.
The door opened behind him. A few moments later, Dylan stepped up beside him. “Bad day?”
“Who ratted me out?”
“No one.” He walked over and helped himself to one of the cold cans. “I saw you come in on the cameras. Don’t take a genius to figure where you went. Finn filled me in on the rest.”
Trey finished off the can in two deep swallows. “Nick might have been the first, but he won’t be the last victim of Vincent Sheldon. He doesn’t give a crap about anything other than making money.”
“Yes.” Dylan settled beside him. “He’s going to keep on doing whatever he wants to do.”
Another pair of swallows and the can was empty. Trey crushed it in one hand. “If you’re trying to cheer me up, you’re doing a crappy job.”
“I’m not.” Dylan took a sip. “You and I deal in realities, and the harsh truth is you’ve got no reason to say or do anything about Sheldon Construction anymore.”
“I know,” he groused. “Thanks for the reminder I can’t do shit.”
“It’s not your fault. People like that game the system, know how to hide evidence. Any case would be circumstantial at the best, your identification challenged. Bring in Ally and your involvement with her…”
“Ally.” He couldn’t help sighing. “Woman’s caught up in the middle of all this, and she deserves better.”
“She sure does.” Dylan finished his beer. “So, what are you doing up here?”
“She told me to leave, remember?” he snarled. “She told me to get the hell out.”
“And today? On the construction site? What did she say to you?”
He paused. “She said ‘not now.’”
“She was correct. That wasn’t the place to start any sort of conversation about you or Vincent. Not while surrounded by smoke and death.”
Trey fell silent, rerunning the confrontation in his mind.
Dylan got up and tossed the can into the blue recycling bin. He walked back to the door leading inside to the elevator. “I’ve got a lunch date with Jessie. Don’t fall off the roof.”
Trey stared out at the Las Vegas Strip, not far from the Devil’s Playground. If he looked to the side, he could see the hotel in the distance, the one holding Sheldon Construction—and Ally.
He got up and added his can to Dylan’s, heading for the elevator.
His computer came alive at a tap of his mouse, the screen lighting up. A few keystrokes brought up Ally’s private phone number.
He hesitated, trying to figure out his next move.
Keep it simple, stupid. She’s having a rough day, and you want to let her know you’re here for her.
The text message took him the better part of an hour to compose, going back and forth over the handful of words before he was close to satisfied.
Finally, he clicked on the send window.
Sorry. Didn’t mean to show up and cause trouble today. I’m here for you if you need anything. Anything.
Trey
It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start.
Trey pushed himself away from the computer and headed to the kitchen, his stomach growling.
I’m offering a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold.
Please take it.
…
The morning had been long and frustrating, bleeding into a hellish afternoon of meetings and discussions, rushing around with public relations to stem the tide of damning news stories.
The local news station welcomed an interview with her, ending the discussion with an overhead shot of the burned-out houses. Her next stop had been the hospital, visiting with the relatives of the injured and the deceased, despite the company lawyer hovering nearby.
“These people just lost someone they loved,” she snapped back at the legal expert. “I will not let our only interaction with them be through paperwork and official documents.”
It was late afternoon, and she was past being tired, past being exhausted.
She didn’t even have the strength to cry.
Ally fell on her bed face-down, unable to find the energy to roll over. She ached from head to foot but knew it was nothing compared to what the families were going through.
All because of her.
Because of Vincent, her mind auto-corrected. He’s the one who changed the directive.
The name on the door is Sheldon Construction. You’re a Sheldon.
Responsible.
She reached out for her purse, lying nearby. She hadn’t had a chance to catch her breath, much less check her personal messages.
Vincent… Vincent had disappeared into his suite along with Edgar and a slew of employees, probably to plan strategy. It was better this way—he wasn’t the best to put in front of the cameras, not in his current condition. This was where she excelled, giving the company a human face that didn’t beg for a punch in the nose.
The text message alert flashed at the top of her phone screen.
She frowned, not recognizing the number.
Her finger hovered over the small image as she pondered her options.
What the hell. Not like this day can get any worse.
She tapped the icon.
Sorry. Didn’t mean to show up and cause trouble today. I’m here for you if you need anything. Anything.
Trey
The breath caught in her throat as she read the words, then re-read them to make sure she had actually received a message from Trey.
Her bedroom door opened, and Vincent stepped in. “Damn, that was a long run.” He pulled the elastic out of his hair, letting it fall around his shoulders. “I’m going out.”
She put the phone face-down on the mattress, hiding the text. “Is that wise? You’ve got the presentation tomorrow. God knows how much more is going to happen tonight.” A glance at her watch verified it was close to six o’clock. “The evening news is about to begin—there might be follow-up questions coming your way.”
“You can handle those. It’s what you’re best at, making Sheldon Construction look good. I’m only going to be gone for a few hours. Nothing else is going to happen today, anyway—they’ve locked the site down.” He scrunched his nose. “Capprelli’s fighting to clear the investigators from the scene and re-open as soon as possible. Two days, tops.” He gave her a jaunty wink as he rubbed his hands together. “Don’t worry, I won’t gamble away the company. I’m feeling lucky tonight.”
She glared at him. “Are you forgetting what happened today? People got hurt. They died.”
His smile morphed into a scowl. “No. Which is why I need to go out, relax a bit. Tomorrow, the media’s going to be on to another story, and this’ll all be over. Lawyers are telling me we can shift part of the blame to the workers, say they were taking unnecessary risks. Save us a lot of money.”
She paused, readying her rebuttal.
Then he was gone. She heard Edgar’s stern voice and knew the handler was accompanying him, alleviating some of her fears.
At least Vincent wouldn’t disappear again.
Her phone rang, and she picked it up, scanning the caller ID.
Betty.
Betty Sheldon had never asked to be called “mom” or “mother”—Ally couldn’t remember ever calling her “auntie.” But she did recall that first traumatic day when she settled into her own room and the older woman told her to never feel pressured to call her anything other than “Betty.” She didn’t want to replace Ally’s lost mother and wouldn’t even try. Ally loved her for that—part of the reason why she put up with Vincent’s issues.
She sighed and tapped the screen.
“Hi.” She rolled over and rubbed her forehead.
“How bad is it?”
Ally stared at the ceiling. “Pretty bad. I assume you got the report. We just got back from the work site.”
“Yes. Henry’s quite annoyed. Bad press isn’t what Sheldon Construction needs right now—hours before the big presentation.”
“Well, blame Vincent. I had the situation under control.” She grabbed one of the pillows and placed it under her head. “I told Capprelli to scale it back, keep it safe. Then Vincent tells him to kick it into high gear, and this happened.”
“Vincent was doing what he thought was right for the company.” The deep sigh came over the wires. “As you were when you hired a private investigator to deal with his disappearance. I’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could confide in us about the situation. We might have been able to advise you, get some proper references.” The disapproval in her voice scratched Ally’s ears like fingernails on a chalkboard. “Lyon Investigations? A one-woman outfit with rather…dubious parentage?”
“She got the job done. Well worth every penny.” Inside Ally flinched, wondering how much they’d discovered.
“This bill is outrageous. I don’t see how you can justify this cost.”
“She brought Vincent back.” Her thoughts flew over Jessie and went to Trey. “And she was invaluable in a number of other ways.”
“So, I heard. She brought in the hacker, Pierce. The one who discovered the…discrepancies. I don’t have to tell you about the security issues this brought up.”
Ally ground her teeth together, throwing caution away. “Trey helped to find Vincent by putting a trace on his credit cards and tracking his phone. Hell, I had a damned loan shark come to me, flashing Vincent’s watch. If Trey hadn’t been there, God knows what would have happened to me.”
She flashed back to the encounter in the side street, Trey’s ease at putting the men down. “He might have saved my life.”
“Please,” Betty huffed. “Spare me the drama. He did the right thing when he rescued you, but that doesn’t excuse his interfering with the company’s running, even with your permission.”
“He interfered enough to discover the embezzlement. If he hadn’t, we’d be in a hell of a worse spot we are now.”
“Don’t call it that.”
A crack on the ceiling caught her attention, her eyes following the break in the paint to the far end of the room. “What would you call it? Vincent took thousands of dollars out—not just his personal salary—and lost most of it in Reno at some sleazy underground poker game. It’s been going on for months, maybe years.”
“That’s not his fault. Vincent’s always been his own person. He likes to take a risk, take on new things. It’s why he’s so well suited for the job. This sort of personality, it comes out in different ways.”
“This time we got Vincent back before he did much damage. What about the next time, and the time after that?” Her voice rose. “How much are you and Henry willing to put up with? My father helped make this company successful, and you two worked to make it better. Vincent’s going to destroy it all, everything you and my parents created.”
“Don’t exaggerate, Ally. We’re worried, yes—but there’s no need for hyperbole. You’re upset.”
“Listen to me. Vincent needs to go to rehab, both for the booze and for the gambling. This can’t go on.”
“My God, Ally…what would people think?”
“They’d think we cared about him. That we love him enough to put him someplace to dry out and clear his head.” She took hold of one edge of the pillow and tucked it under her head. “He’s going to destroy himself and take the company along for the ride.”
“Nonsense. As long as you’re there to help him out, he’ll be fine. He respects your knowledge and your dedication, even if he won’t say so.”
“Betty…” She held her breath for a second. “Do you remember him doing anything outrageous about five years ago?”
Her aunt’s nervous laugh jangled Ally’s nerves. “Define outrageous. Vincent’s always been given to doing odd things here and there. It’s part of his personality.”
She rubbed her nose. “Something…something like having a car accident.”
“Don’t you have anything else to do than pick over Vincent’s past?” The tone shifted. “You should be looking toward finding a husband, someone who can stand by you and help run the company.”
“You mean help me keep hiding Vincent’s flaws.” She didn’t bother trying to keep the anger from her voice. “New York City, five years ago.” She choked on the words. “I remember you coming into my room and telling me to pack, that we were going to Europe for a surprise vacation. I was worried about my classes, but you said not to worry. I thought it was strange, but never figured out why.” Her voice broke. “Betty…did you and Henry find out Vincent ran those men over and help cover it up?”
“That is none of your business.” The words were sharp and curt. “Good night, Ally. We’ll be waiting for the report tomorrow after the big presentation.”
The line went dead.
She drew her finger over the screen, bringing up Trey’s text.
A tap of her finger deleted it.
I can’t take any more heartbreak. Not tonight.
She looked at the phone in her hand, suddenly finding it too heavy to hold. It dropped onto her chest where it lay, rising and falling with her rapid breathing.
Vincent killed a man.
You think, her internal voice muttered. There’s no evidence, just coincidences. Betty didn’t confirm anything, just told you to mind your own business. A yellow flag, at best.
But where there’s smoke…
She needed more before she burned Sheldon Construction down around their ears.