“You can’t afford to take a chance on me, Shane. You can’t afford the risk that I represent, that you don’t even understand.”
I cup her face. “I’m taking care of you. End of conversation.” I kiss her, a deep, gentle stroke of my tongue that I follow with another, and another, and then another, until she moans, her hand flattening on my chest, the other at my hip. And I can taste her fear, her guilt, but more so, I can taste her submission, not to me, but to us. To a bond neither of us expected or looked for, but it happened, and while it’s indefinable, it is also undeniable.
Another knock sounds on the door, and a loud, “Shane, damn it!” as I tear my mouth from Emily’s, stroking my thumb over her lip. “Whoever made you this afraid is going to be sorry,” I vow, but I don’t give her time to reply, caressing her hair behind her ear. “I don’t want to embarrass you. Hide out in one of the stalls so you won’t be embarrassed when the doors explode with women. I’ll be outside waiting on you.”
I start to move away and she grabs my arm. “Shane,” she whispers. “You don’t understand what you’re dealing with.”
I reach around her, cupping her backside and pulling her to me. “I’ve got you,” I say, and her hand settles on my cheek.
“But who has you, Shane? That’s what I’m worried about.”
“You. More than you know.” I kiss her, hard and fast this time, and then I walk away, opening the door and exiting the bathroom, really fucking pissed at myself for making this about me and my family, not her. Entering the hallway, I’m greeted with several glowering women and Rita, who pulls me to the archway and out of the path of the door.
“You now owe me,” she hisses. “My boss was furious.”
“He’s my friend,” I say. “I’ll talk to him.” I reach into my pocket and hand her an extra hundred. “A bonus.”
She glances down at it and her eyes go wide, her glower fading to satisfaction. “I’ll guard the door any time you like,” she says, her lips curving. “But I’d rather be the woman that made you go in the ladies’ room.” She laughs, rushing away, while Seth steps in front of me in her place, and considering his tie is missing and his short blond hair looks in disarray, this can’t be good.
“What’s her story?”
“It’s not about me or the company,” I say. “For now, that’s all I’m prepared to share.”
“You’re sure?”
“I am,” I say.
“Well then, moving on to another problem. We need to talk about allegations made by your plastic surgeon pal.”
He means Eric’s patient’s claim that our pharmaceutical brand is being used to package illegal drugs, and I have a good idea where this is headed, though the timing of the conversation is curious. “If you’re telling me you want me to ask him for the patient’s name—”
“I don’t need a name. Eric said the patient was the estranged wife of a professional athlete and while he has numerous sports connections, only one patient fits that description exactly.”
I should have known he’d already have the answer. “Who is it?”
“Do you know Brody Matthews?”
“Pro pitcher from Denver,” I say. “Everyone in this city knows him and I’ve met the guy. I don’t know where this is going, but I read people and I like this guy. He’s another Eric. He walks a straight line and he doesn’t cross it.”
“Yeah well, this straight arrow suffered several injuries this past year, punched a fan tonight at a game, and is married to one of your pal Eric’s patients. And I found this in his nightstand.” Seth produces his phone from his pocket, and shows me a photo of a medicine bottle with our label on it, the drug name Ridel. The same one we’ve suspected is being used by my brother and the Martina cartel to run Sub-Zero through our facilities.
I hand Seth back his phone. “How the fuck did you get that?”
“What you don’t know can’t hurt you. Don’t ask. Don’t tell.”
“Now you sound like Emily.”
He arches a brow. “For some reason, I thought you indicated she was giving you answers?”
“She’s in trouble and she doesn’t want to drag me into it.”
“That gets my vote.”
“Yes, because leaving someone I care about to crash and burn on her own is who I am,” I say, that remark of Emily’s about being selfish still weighing on me. I have a brother in bed with a drug cartel. How safe am I really keeping her?
“Easy, man,” Seth says. “I didn’t realize this was as serious as it clearly is.”
“Back to the pill bottle,” I snap, crossing my arms in front of my chest.
He settles his hands on his hips under his jacket. “Unfortunately it was empty, but I have the bottle. Nick can get it tested for residue.”
Nick being his ex-FBI buddy whose private security team I now employ. “I’m going to call Brody and invite him to dinner on the pretense of corporate sponsorship,” I say. “If I can sit down with him, I can evaluate where his head is right now. Maybe I can even get him to talk.”
“Brody isn’t our problem,” Seth says, “at least not immediately. It’s his wife. She’s running her mouth and getting noticed. It’s only so long before the FBI gets word of her claims and the Martina cartel as well. And for her, that could be lethal.”
“She wants money,” I say. “Give it to her. In payments with a confidentiality agreement that ensures she won’t hold us captive for more.”
“As in how much?”
“Start low and cap it at three hundred and fifty thousand, but you handle it. Not Nick or one of his people. I trust you. Not them.”
“Understood,” he says. “I’m actually meeting Nick here at the hotel to hand over the medicine bottle in fifteen minutes and then heading home, but we have people watching the hotel and her apartment.” He eyes the bathroom area as an elderly woman exits the hallway. “Unless you need me to stay?”
“Go. I’ve got Emily handled.”
He studies me for several beats, as if he wants to ask the questions about Emily that I can’t answer, then inclines his chin and starts walking. My gaze goes to the bathroom, which Emily has yet to exit. Something feels off. I walk toward the bathroom and I’m at the archway, fully prepared to enter the bathroom again, when Rita catches my arm. “No,” she snaps. “You are not going back in there no matter how much you pay me.”
“Go inside and find Emily for me. Petite. Long brown hair. Blue eyes and she’s wearing a navy skirt and blouse.”
She glowers, but sighs and heads in that direction. I follow her to the door and wait, ready to just walk in myself. She has ten seconds and then I’m going in. One. Two. Three. Four. The door opens. “There’s no one in here.”
“Holy fuck.”
“Wow,” she says. “Shane Brandon’s been blown off.”
I ignore her, already walking toward the lobby, my phone in my hand and Seth’s auto-dial punched in. “Emily slipped past us. Tell me someone is following her.”
“She hasn’t come out the front door. I’m calling my men.”
“Meet me at the front door.”
EMILY