Risky Business Page 4

  Jeremy grows tired of waiting for my response. “You may not have anything to say to me, but I have so much to tell you, honey.”

  I choke back a gag as my entire body cringes at the sound of him calling me honey. “I have your number now. I’ll call you back.”

  Jackass begins to say something, but I cut him off, slamming my thumb down on the End Call button. A hard shiver runs though me, and I shake as though a spider just ran up my back. God, I never knew I could have such a visceral reaction to the sound of someone’s voice, but I doubt even a shower in scalding hot bleach would be able to wash the creepy-crawly feeling off my skin.

  I stare at the phone in my hand, waves of trepidation washing through me. How am I going to do this? I promised myself I wouldn’t. But there’s no other way, is there? I swallow hard, shrug off the elegant jacket Suzanne gave me earlier, and toss it on the bed. I can’t breathe. This room is too hot.

  Desmond must know what I’m thinking. His eyes are following me around the room as I begin to pace. “Ma’am, no. It’s too dangerous.”

  His words are falling on deaf ears as I walk back and forth between the loveseat and the bed. He doesn’t understand. I don’t care how much danger it puts me in — as long as it stops what’s happening to everyone around me. I’m at the center of all this. The stupid fucking code has become the bane of my existence, and I’m just done. Fuck it all. I’m beyond caring what BHC intends to do with it. My theories about their plans for the code are worries that belong to a distant future. Right now, as I contemplate what to do, they’re in the process of burning down my entire world. And I can’t just stand by and let it continue. The code is the key to bringing this to an end — and the only card I have left to play.

  Suzanne speaks up, her voice quiet but firm. “You can’t meet with them. Look at what they’ve done already.”

  I glance at the television, and the snippets of breaking news running across the screen at the bottom show that the markets will soon be closing and Pentabye’s stock price has plummeted into no man’s land. The closed-captioning reveals the news anchors are reporting on speculation that the false fire alarms at the luxury residential tower were triggered to instigate a building-wide evacuation as an attempt to prevent government raids on their penthouses, buying Pentabyte board members time to return to their home offices and destroy evidence.

  “Do you see this?” I ask the team, waving a hand at the television. “They’re absolutely crushing Pentabyte right now.”

  Desmond nods with a heavy sigh. “Yes. And it’s frustrating. But you getting tangled up in it won’t help them.”

  “Frustrating? No. It’s infuriating,” I say, raising my voice as I point at the screen. “And I’m already tangled up in it. Look at what happened today. Look at where I’m at. BHC is doing this because of my program. The guys are the ones just now being pulled into this fucking game of theirs. I’ve been smack dab in the middle of it from the beginning.”

  Suzanne tries to reason with me, her voice calm. “Emma, it’s obvious the events of today were aimed at getting you to this point. Don’t fall for it.” She cocks her chin at the television. “All of that has been done to lay a trap for you.”

  “Exactly. And they’ve got me now, haven’t they?”

  “No,” Desmond says, “Jude and the others, they’ll ride this out. I’ve known them a long time, ma’am. They’re a resilient bunch.”

  I turn my hands up with incredulity. “What, exactly, is the long-term plan, here? Am I supposed to hide out in a hotel forever? And watch everything they’ve built come crumbling down, piece by piece? Just accept whatever BHC throws at them as long as I’m safe?” I shake my head vehemently. “No way. I’m not letting that happen.”

  Desmond stands his ground. “We’ve been charged with keeping you safe at all costs — that’s what the guys want. Their directive was crystal clear. No matter what, above all else, your wellbeing is top priority, period.”

  Listening to him repeat the orders the guys gave, my heart clutches in my chest. It makes me want to cry. The guys, they’d do anything for me. But BHC won’t stop. I know it.

  “I know they’d probably walk away from everything they’ve ever known if it means I’m safe from BHC,” I tell Desmond, choosing my words carefully. “But… this isn’t going to stop. I think — no, I know if I let this continue, I’m afraid the guys won’t be able to walk away from anything. They won’t just lose their company and their clients and their reputations. They’ll lose their freedom. BHC will make sure of it.”

  Suzanne takes in a deep breath and steps forward, and I can see from the determined expression on her face that she’s about to launch into a speech about priorities or principals or some other lofty notion that doesn’t matter one tiny bit to me right now, so I hold up a palm.

  “Wait,” I say. “Listen to me. The solution is simple. I know the guys won’t be happy. Hell, I’m definitely not fucking happy about it. But it’ll put a stop to this, and that’s all that matters right now. I swore — like over my cold, dead body — that I’d never hand over my program to BHC. But it has to be done. I have to meet with them. There’s no other way. They’ll have the code, and this will end now, before things get any worse.”

  Desmond crosses his arms over his chest. “You don’t know that. I doubt they just want to talk. At this point, they probably won’t be satisfied to just get the code.”

  “I agree,” Suzanne says, sitting down on the edge of the bed with a sigh. “People like that, Emma — they don’t just accept recompense. They’ll be out for blood. They’ll want you to suffer as payment for making them wait.”

  I take a deep breath and lean against the wall to the adjoining hotel room. “You’re right. I don’t know what will happen if I meet with them. Maybe I make it out, maybe I don’t. Maybe they punish me in ways I can’t even imagine right now for not giving it to them sooner. That’s a chance I’ll have to take. But what I do know is that if I don’t go — if I don’t hand over this code — I’ll be giving them permission to do their worst. I’ll be watching people I care about suffer needlessly.”

  Pushing off the wall, I start pacing again, my body full of nervous energy but also something new — hope. There’s a way out, I just have to do it. Summon all the courage I have, look those bastards in the eye, and hand over my program.

  Desmond isn’t having it. He’s shaking his head. “Keeping them away from you is our only job. What you’re talking about, it’s too dangerous.”

  “It’s my call, though, isn’t it?” The words aren’t barbed or argumentative. A calmness has come over me. I’ve made my decision. I know what needs to be done, and no one is going to stop me. Not this security team. Not even the guys, themselves. Hell, my own mother couldn’t talk me out of this now.

  The three of them exchange uneasy glances, but it’s Madeline who speaks up first. She’s been the quietest of everyone so far, listening to this debate attentively but silently. Now, she rises from the chair at the desk, and all eyes turn to her.

  “I think we need to listen to Emma.” She holds up a quick hand to Desmond, who’s already opened his mouth in protest. “I know what you’re going to say. And, for the record, I’m not saying I agree with this idea. But we don’t have the authority to stop her. Despite that, our directive remains the same, to keep her as safe as possible.” She turns to me. “Which means, if you insist on doing this—”

  “I do,” I confirm without hesitation.

  “—then it’s our job to figure out how to make it happen with the least amount of risk.”

  Desmond sighs angrily and turns away from us, his fingers pressed to his temples in disbelief. Suzanne is staring down at the plush carpet, her lips pursed, blinking slowly as she absorbs Madeline’s words.

  I bite my lip, trying to think quickly. “It can be on our turf. We can have control over it. You guys are the best, aren’t you? Help me come up with a plan.”

  That gets his attention. Desmond turns back arou
nd, his nostrils flaring. “Part of being the best is not putting our clients in inherently dangerous situations that are easily avoidable.”

  I straighten up. “Desmond, I respect that you have a job to do.”

  “Yes, I do, ma’am,” he nods solemnly, his eyes flicking to his team members’ faces. “We all do.”

  “And I know you don’t take that lightly,” I continue. “But, this isn’t avoidable. Not really. It’s just a matter of when. It can be today, or it can be three months from now when all the guys are sitting in prison. Or when BHC finally turns to bloodshed and hurts someone for good. There’s no reason for me to think it won’t lead to that.”

  Madeline nods slowly, her expression serious. “I agree. I’ve spent the last few weeks working through our back channels, researching BHC. It’s not a pretty picture. Nothing that can be proven, but they’re linked to quite a few serious crimes — and some very influential investors that keep everything neatly swept under the rug and off the police blotter.”

  His chest rises and falls, but Desmond doesn’t say a thing, he just stares at me, a hard look in his eye.

  It’s Suzanne who speaks up next, her voice hesitant at first. “You know… I don’t like this any more than you, Des,” she says, shooting him a cautious look. “But we’re not supposed to interfere with Emma’s personal life or her decisions. Madeline’s right. If she wants to do this, it’s our duty to make sure she’s safe, not to keep her from doing it.”

  Desmond glances over to her, his eyes flashing with annoyance, but he bears his teeth with a huff of defeat and turns to me. “You’re absolutely convinced you need to do this?”

  “Yes,” I say firmly. “One meeting, tonight. Tell me how to do it.”

  “Twice in one day, aren’t I a lucky man?”

  Even when we were going out, Jeremy knew how to get under my skin when he wanted to. Apparently, he’s become a fucking expert at it in the time since. I ball my fists up before responding, trying to keep the venom out of my voice, as instructed by Suzanne. Don’t let them know they’re getting to me.

  “Eighth Street Park. One hour,” I say in the most even tone I can manage.

  Jackass laughs on the other side of the line. “A park. How quaint. Did you get that idea from a spy movie? Will you be wearing a red carnation and sitting on a park bench?”

  Desmond called in several members of the security team, and together they came up with a plan. He picked out the meeting spot and made me wait an agonizing hour before calling Jeremy back, giving him time to dispatch several teams to specific points at the park and along the route there, scout the area thoroughly, and set up a safety net of sorts.

  It was an hour with nothing for me to do except worry about the guys, stay plastered to the news, think about how this is all going to end, and try to come up with the words to tell them what I’m about to do. The thing is, I don’t think I can. And even if I could, I don’t think I should. As Desmond has pointed out several times, they’re busy dealing with crisis on top of crisis right now. But I really, really want to hear their voices. I miss them so much. It feels like it’s been weeks since I kissed Trigg and Daniel goodbye this morning after they joined me for an early breakfast.

  The phone is on speaker again, and Suzanne is watching me warily. I’m doing my best to hold it together and keep this conversation as brief as possible. “You know what I fucking look like, asshole. It’s not a big park. Figure it out.”

  “Oh yeah, I know what you look like, cupcake. Every inch of you.”

  I shiver with disgust and try not to throw up in my mouth at the thought of Jeremy having ever touched me. He lets out a peal of amused laughter at my uncomfortable silence, making me cringe even harder. I’m about to unleash a torrent of curses at him when his laughter is interrupted by a female voice speaking in the background. I press the phone to my ear, trying to make out what’s being said. I can’t quite grasp the exact words, but the sharp, clipped tones sound like an angry reprimand, and something inside of me smiles as Jackass comes back on the line with a flat voice.

  “Fine,” he says. “One hour. We don’t care where we meet. I won’t be alone, and I’m sure you won’t be, either.”

  “You must be a goddamned genius,” I retort. “Yes, I’ll have company. And I’ll have counter measures in place, so you better not try anything.”

  “You’re too cute.” He snorts into the phone, his voice taking on an amused tone again. “Before you get too big for your britches, you should know we’ve set things in motion that will cripple those assholes you’ve been climbing in bed with and that bitch you call a friend, should you try anything stupid.”

  “Of course, you have something slimey up your sleeve. I’ve come to expect nothing less from you,” I manage to say, but I really want to imagine the phone is Jackass’s face and smash it against the hotel wall as hard as I can.

  “Good girl,” he coos patronizingly. “I can’t imagine you’d be so stupid as to do anything rash, not since you’ve seen what we’re capable of — and what we’re willing to do if you try to fuck with us.”

  I grit my teeth. I’m so tired of the threats. “Let’s just get this over with. I’m looking forward to the day I never have to see your goddamned face again.”

  6

  Daniel

  “What the fuck do you mean he’s in jail?” Every vein in Jude’s neck is standing out.

  I lift my palms out to placate him. “All the station said was reckless driving. And resisting arrest. And…”

  He snaps his chin up, shoulders squared. “And what, Daniel? What the fuck else?”

  “Assaulting a police officer.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ.”

  “Multiple police officers.”

  “What? What a goddamn motherfucking—”

  Jude continues muttering, but I can’t make out any coherent words. His face is so red, I worry he’s going to erupt in flames. He’s losing control. He kicks straight in front of him, launching his foot into his office chair. It flies across the room and crashes into the far wall.

  He grabs one of the small, abstract figurines of modern art Jax had decorated his brother’s office with. “I hate this fucking shit.” Jude hurls it in the direction of the far wall. It digs into the drywall and lodges there.

  I keep my hands up, trying to calm him down. “You don’t hate it. You’re angry about more than just Jax right now.”

  He already has the next one in hand. “Nope. I fucking hate it.”

  “Jude, come on.” I say his name firmly, and he lets out an angry huff but slowly sets the figurine down.

  “We received the text we’ve been waiting for. Blue Jay. She’s safe. Now we need to take care our people.”

  He loosens his tie, leaving it hanging before freeing the top button of his shirt. “What’s Gunner’s status?”

  I shake my head, remembering how upset Gunner was when I delivered the news. “It was like butting heads with a rhinoceros, but he’s on task.”

  Jude glares at his desk, needing an object to focus his frustration on now that the walls and décor are out of the question. “You told him it was a direct order?”

  A single syllable of sarcastic laughter escapes me, a sound that matches how challenging the task was. “Yes. And he’s in full damage control mode right now, as requested. But I’m dead certain that if I hadn’t excused myself from the room immediately after delivering the message, he would have strangled me in front of the executive board of Emerson Incorporated, right there on the conference room table. He is rather unhappy to be tied up with that task at the moment, instead of here with us, devising a plan.”

  “The only plan I can think of is taking a blowtorch to this place, because everything else is toast — our stocks, our client list, our contracts. Might as well burn this fucking office down, too.”

  I rarely see Jude on this level of nuclear pissed off, especially lately. Emma has shaken him up, helped him begin to let go of that need to be in control, little
by little. But the idea of him losing control today is a very unpleasant thought. And something that might actually happen. I can tell by that wildness itching underneath his skin that he’s right on the edge.

  That means it’s time to move on to the next topic. I need to plow ahead while he’s listening. If I can keep him from dwelling on any one thing for too long, we might make it through this hasty damage-assessment without an explosion.

  “Trigg reports that the situation at the apartment building is under control,” I tell him, relieved to have even the tiniest sliver of good news to share. “The alarms have been reset, and we’re sending our best IT guys over there right now to diagnose how the breach occurred.”

  “We fucking know how the breach occurred.”

  I nod. “We know who, yes. But we don’t know how.”

  Jude runs his palm over his eyes. “What do we have to do to get my brother out of jail?”

  I knew he’d focus on that, because in the entire list of events that have happened today, Jax’s situation is the one thing we may be able to take action on right now. “He’s in quite the mess this time.”

  Jude grits his teeth. “He probably won’t be granted bail. At least not through official channels.”

  “I suspect not. We can call Jax’s handlers at the NSA. They won’t be happy, but they’ll do it.”

  He closes his eyes and shakes his head angrily, and I can imagine he’s already regretting the call before he’s even picked up the phone. “Yeah, they’ll do it. Goddammit.”