I give a negative shake of my head. “I’m not risking the exposure that could represent unless I have no other options. If Sub-Zero is inside the BP facility, we need to hone in on who helped Derek get it there.”
“William Nichols,” Seth says, and I assume for Nick’s benefit, he adds, “The head of research and development at BP. My gut says he’s a problem and his behavior on the security film I watched has been suspicious, but far from conclusive.”
“Does he have the control and resources to breach the facility with illegal drugs?” Nick asks.
“He does,” I say, “and he’s weak, which makes him a soft target for Derek, who is far too often short-sighted, considering that it also makes him a soft target for everyone else as well.”
“Define ‘soft target,’” Nick urges.
“Under the right pressure,” I reply. “He’ll buckle under the right pressure, be it from us, or someone else.”
“We need to make sure it’s to us,” Seth concludes.
“Exactly,” I say. “And the best way to shake down a soft target, is to scare the shit out of said target, and see where they lead you. If we execute this correctly, we’ll quickly know if we’re looking in the right place with William.”
“So we play Go Fish,” Nick says. “What’s our bait?”
We spend the next fifteen minutes debating exactly how Go Fish will play out, before Nick departs, while Seth lingers with me, on the other side of the island. “Emily,” he says flatly, no lead-up, warning, or further explanation.
“I’m listening,” I say cautiously, a muscle beginning to tick in my jaw.
“You’re sleeping with her.”
“That wasn’t a question. Where are you going with this?”
He pushes off the counter and folds his arms in front of him. “How do you know she’s not working for Derek?”
“I know,” I say firmly. “And this conversation is irrelevant at this point. She’s leaving the company and will be off everyone’s radar. Watch her to protect her, but otherwise, leave her there.”
His eyes narrow, harden with the set of his jaw. “Understood,” he says, and without another word, he turns away to head for the door, but I know Seth, and Emily is no more off his radar than she is off mine. But better ours than Derek’s or the Martina cartel’s.
Look at me. I did this to you. Remember me.
—Sonny LoSpecchio
CHAPTER NINETEEN
SHANE
I wake the next morning to the sweet scent of Emily clinging to my sheets and the bitter memory of why I had to send her away. Drugs. Cartels. Enough lies to create a sinkhole that will swallow us all alive. This drives home why I did the right thing to push her away, but I regret sending her away, but it had to be that way. Had I touched her, if I touch her now, beyond that painful, searing last kiss, I’ll forget how easily I could put her in harm’s way. Knowing this, however, doesn’t keep my mind off her as I shower. Nor does it stop me from pairing my navy suit with the same blue and gray striped Burberry tie she’d chosen for me yesterday. My way of telling her that she might be gone from my immediate life right now, she is not forgotten.
Heading downstairs, I make coffee, and cup in hand, I head to my home office, where I settle behind the desk, my phone next to me, my gaze falling to the wall Emily and I worked our butts off to turn into a bulletin board. Among the data pinned there are true jewels of information I can use to grow the pharmaceutical division, none of it relevant if I don’t shut down the threats to the company that the Martina family, and my own, represent to our security and safety.
Glancing down at my tie, my concern over Emily being too close to potential danger has me reaching for my cell phone, punching in her number. The call goes straight to voice mail. Grimacing, I decide against a message to confirm today is her last day working for my father. It could be taken as cold, rather than concerned, which is what I intended. Whatever the case, her leaving the company today is not an option.
My cell phone rings and Seth is on the line. I turn my attention to the game of Go Fish, while Seth and I spend the next several hours setting our trap for William and hopefully Derek in the process. Namely, locking down surveillance on anyone either of them might contact after I’ve rattled a few cages today. By the time everyone we need to have eyes on is in view, it’s nearly two o’clock, and I drive to a coffee shop practically in the parking lot of the pharmaceutical plant. Parking by the door, I dial William Nichols, our suspected traitor. “Mr. Brandon,” he greets me amiably. “What can I do for you today?”
“I’m negotiating an acquisition that will directly impact your work and I need immediate feedback. I’m next door at Mountaintop Coffee. I need you to come over.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
“I’m right in the middle of—”
“Now,” I repeat, adding a hard push to my voice.