“And yet you won’t even touch me.”
“If I touch you, I won’t send you home, and I can’t let that happen.” He takes a step backward, as if solidifying those words. When his gray eyes meet mine, they are steel, his decision made. I wait to feel rejected by the coldness of the moment, but I do not. He really means to protect me. There is no other option to him and I am ashamed of how weak I was in protecting him.
I inhale a deep breath as I step to the coatrack, grabbing my purse and bag and turning for the door. I want him to stop me, but I know he won’t. He believes this is the right decision. I’d believed that as well until I’d heard the trouble he’s in. Sitting outside his father’s door, I have a unique window into the family with who Shane is at war. Leaving now is deserting a ship, and a battle post, in the middle of that war. I won’t do that. I’m staying.
“Emily,” he says. My hand is on the door, but the next thing I know, he’s grabbed me, and his hand is on the back of my head. He’s kissing me, deeply, passionately, and then he sets me away from him and opens the door. “If you don’t make my father fire you, I’ll fire you.”
I leave without a word, the taste of his regret, and my own, on my lips, with no intention of anyone firing me. I’m more resourceful than he thinks, and I care too much about him to let his family win.
SHANE
Two hours after I gutted myself by forcing Emily out of my apartment and my life, at least for the time being, Seth and Nick join me at my apartment, Nick making a discreet entry separate from Seth. Convening at the island in the kitchen, both men look weary, Nick with a thick stubble on his jaw, and Seth with his tie loose and his jacket gone.
“I’m going to cut to the chase here,” Nick says, opening the conversation, “and the news isn’t good. I’ve talked to my buddy at the Feds and they are indeed investigating a performance-enhancing drug called ‘Sub-Zero’ on the streets.”
“How do we know that connects the dots to my company?” I ask.
“It’s being investigated as the cause of death of a professional athlete,” he says, confirming what Eric’s patient had claimed. “Toxicology, however, was negative but as you told Seth, that would be expected. And that’s part of the buzz on the streets. Not only is it rumored to produce the same physical benefits of a steroid with an added boost of mental clarity, but it remains invisible.”
“What about hair follicle testing?” I ask.
“Negative,” Nick says. “There’s a hypothesis the drug somehow mimics something naturally created in the body, but there’s absolutely no supporting evidence. Aside from chatter on the streets, the FBI is flying blind on this one.”
“And that chatter is going to lead them to me,” I say, “like it did the doctor who came to me today.”
“Does any of this chatter include the Martina cartel?” Seth asks.
“Negative again,” Nick says. “At this point, they’ve been focusing on high-end sports clinics, college sports complexes, and doctors.” His gaze cuts to me. “If you go to them—”
“Not no,” I say, “but hell no.”
“Think about this, Shane,” Seth argues. “Protection. Immunity. And the chance to take down one of the largest, most dangerous cartels on the planet.”
“That would infer I intend to get in bed with Martina, and I don’t, nor will the Feds drag me, and people close to me, into said bed. It’s a death wish in every possible sense of that saying. And don’t tell me they’ll offer protection that won’t be needed if the two of you do your damn job, and get them the hell out of my business.”
“At the risk of pissing off the man responsible for my generous payroll,” Nick interjects, “I need to insert a warning here. If the Feds come to you before you go to them, they won’t be your friends.”
My jaw sets hard and I give him a steely look. “Are you working for me or them? Because you sound like you’re pushing their agenda.”
“Their agenda is to take down a cartel,” he argues.
My lips thin with my growing agitation. “With acceptable losses along the way. Me, my company, and the people around me, will not be those losses. So I repeat. Who do you work for? Me or them?”
“You,” he says, his voice low, tight.
“Then use that energy to get me out of this,” I say. “Not six feet under.” I glance between them. “At this point, I have nothing but an angry, soon-to-be ex-wife connecting BP to Sub-Zero. If it’s in my building, I should have known before she did. How are we going to fix that?”
“You need an informant inside BP,” Nick suggests.