The Killing Game

Perfect, Andi thought as she caught the pages Carter slid across the polished mahogany. “Where are the Carerras?”


“Yeah, where are they?” Emma asked, staring down Carter. She hadn’t bothered looking at the proposal; in fact she seemed edgy, as if something was on her mind.

“They’ll be here soon. I gave us a half an hour before they get here so we could have all our ducks in a row. We need to be on the same page when they arrive.”

Emma said tightly, “That’ll be a trick.”

Carter met her stony gaze. “This is serious.”

“Everything is with you,” she responded. She grabbed up the papers and started leafing through them. “Let’s see what you have planned. Oh great. The Carreras’ names are all over this.” She dropped the pages on the table.

Sensing fireworks were about to explode, Andi tried to ameliorate. “I’ll look through the papers, but I haven’t changed my mind about the Carreras.”

“This is what’s best for the company,” Carter insisted.

“Best for the company?” Emma repeated, her voice rising. “What’s wrong with you, Carter? You know better. Or you should. Greg never would have gone for this.”

“Greg’s gone,” Carter said. “And we have to make some hard choices.”

“Greg’s gone because they killed him,” Emma stated flatly.

“Wait a minute,” Andi said.

Luke leaned forward in his chair. “Why do you say that?”

“Are you insane?” Carter threw back at her. “Of course they didn’t—”

“You think that ‘accident’ just happened?” Emma practically shouted. “Because Greg was tired, or had a little too much to drink, or got confused or something? He’d driven that road a thousand times. No way would he have just missed the curve.”

“Emma,” Ben said, reaching for her arm, but she yanked it away.

“This is between me and my brother! He’s looked at Greg’s death as a gift.”

Carter blanched. “That is not true.”

“Honey, maybe you should calm down,” Ben said. “This is upsetting and maybe you had a little drink before you came here and—”

“I’ve never been more sober in my life.”

Silence followed. Everyone stared at her. Finally, Emma said, “Those thugs . . . murdered our brother. Somehow they forced him off the road, and by God, I am not—we are not—doing business with them. Not on this project, not on any project.” She was shaking by this time, her face red, her fists clenched in conviction.

Luke asked, “How do you know this?”

“She doesn’t,” Carter shot back angrily. “She’s grasping at straws. What the hell’s wrong with you, Emma? Is your brain pickled from all the booze?”

Emma’s eyes widened in hurt, and Ben jumped in. “Hey now, we don’t need to go there.”

“Sure we do.” Carter wasn’t having any of Ben’s arguments. “Emma, we’re kin. You and me. We’re together on this. We need the Carreras to preserve the company.”

“You’ve thought I would side with you from the beginning, but I can’t. Think about it, Carter. About how it all came down.”

“How am I supposed to keep us afloat? We don’t have the money!”

Emma turned to Andi. “We’re not doing business with them.”

“We’re not,” Andi agreed.

Carter tried to interrupt, but Emma overtalked him. “That bastard Blake called me last night.”

Ben’s head whipped around. “What?”

“He scared the shit out of me,” Emma said.

“Did he threaten you?” Luke asked.

“He just made it clear we needed to do business with them.” She glared at Carter. “So you figure something else out because I’d rather die than deal with those bastards.” She scraped her chair back and started for the door. Ben scrambled to follow.

Carter entreated, “Wait, Em. You can’t just walk out.”

“Like hell.” She stormed out the door and Ben, looking backward, threw them all an apologetic look as he trailed after her. Their footsteps faded and Andi heard the elevator ding before the car collected them.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Carter threw back his head and closed his eyes for a second, as if he could conjure up a different ending to his conversation with Emma. “Sober my eye. Takes somebody drunk to act like that.”

“I agree with her,” Andi said.

“You believe the Carreras were behind Greg’s accident? Oh, come on, Andi. You’re better than that.” The elevator dinged again before Andi could retort, and Carter muttered, “Oh great. They’re here. Now what? What will we tell them?” He was suddenly desperate. “We have to sign with them, Andi. It’s imperative.”

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