Jane Harvey-Berrick Saving The Billionaire

by Harvey-Berrick, Jane

  Or me.

  Chapter 30

  Running on Empty

  RACHEL IS IN our kitchen when I head for the shower. Cooking is therapeutic for her. Pretty ironic considering she’s marrying a guy who could make a fine meal from TV dinners and whose former best friend was the microwave. But the military has a saying: any fool can be uncomfortable.

  “I’ve made you scrambled eggs and bacon, so don’t take too long in the shower.”

  Instead of replying, I pull her into my arms, not caring that I smell like a goat, and kiss her hard, demanding.

  Eventually, she pulls away, breathless.

  “What was that for, Justin?”

  “Because you’re here. And because I can.”

  She smiles her understanding and shoos me into the shower. I wish she’d join me.

  THE NEXT MORNING, I can hear Anderson on the phone for the early call scheduled with Mason.

  Maria is just leaving his office, her face sad and a little hurt.

  Anderson is still holding his emotions in tightly: he’s afraid he’ll explode, and he doesn’t want Maria to be the target of his rage.

  “Hello, Trainer,” she says, her voice softened by sadness.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Anderson,” I reply, trying to express everything through those few words.

  She tries to smile.

  “May I ask how you’re doing today?” I’m sorry you were afraid. I’m sorry I failed you.

  “I’m okay.” I’m scared.

  I nod. I know.

  “If you’ll excuse me.” It’ll be okay. I promise.

  Her eyes follow me into the office, and I hate myself for closing the door as she watches.

  Anderson glances up, his face tight.

  “You’re on speakerphone, Mason. Trainer is here.”

  “The police caught Kranz trying to steal a car. They’ve taken him in for questioning. So far he’s saying nothing and seems unconcerned. The police believe that he’s expecting to receive bail and whoever is bankrolling him is paying for his silence. His apartment is still being processed.”

  Anderson looks like he’s going to be sick, and he paces to the window, staring out at the crawling streets thirty floors below.

  “Have they charged him yet?”

  “Yes, second degree assault and attempted robbery—with up to seven years if he’s found guilty, but…”

  “But what?” snarls Anderson.

  “But with no priors, he’ll get bail.”

  “What the fuck?”

  “Because he says that Evans threw a punch first and when Kranz tried to fight back, Ms. Quinlan got in the way. Even if he had priors, there would be a good chance he’d get bail.”

  I shake my head in disbelief.

  “I want that possibility closed down,” Anderson enunciates carefully.

  “Sir, I don’t think that will…”

  “That’s no longer your concern,” says Anderson, his voice ice cold.

  And I wonder which of his many connections he’ll call to make that happen, which of the politicians or judges he’s fucked will be happy to do a favor for Anderson.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Mason’s disembodied voice is emotionless.

  “Report back in one hour.”

  The call ends abruptly and the room descends into tense silence. Then Anderson throws me an unreadable look and strides out.

  I head back to my office. The security protocols need some more fucking revisions. I’m not even sure where to start anymore and I’m doubting my abilities.

  Banner is waiting for me while Reynolds is keeping the media at bay outside. Of course the vultures have descended: police at reclusive billionaire’s penthouse; beautiful young wife the target of a stalker—even if that wasn’t exactly what happened. It still makes a juicy story. What’s not to like?

  “Last night was a complete clusterfuck,” I announce unnecessarily. “Who wants to tell me why?”

  “Mrs. Anderson should have waited inside as she was instructed…” Evans begins.

  “You’re telling me that the client is at fault?” I ask, my voice dangerously quiet as I eyeball him.

  “If she’d understood the implications—the level of threat—Mrs. Anderson may have behaved differently,” Evans replies, his tone calm.

  He’s right, of course. But that doesn’t excuse it.

  I move on to point number two in the security handbook of ‘how not to get unemployed because you’ve let the client get killed’.

  I’m interrupted when I hear Anderson calling me. Fuck, how can I concentrate when he keeps interfering? But like a good little pet, I respond to my master’s call.

  “Sir?”

  “Tell Reynolds that Mrs. Anderson is going to work. Can you drive them, please?”

  I bet that was a short and interesting conversation between two of the most stubborn, hard-headed people I’ve ever met. Who’d have thought Maria would have Anderson’s balls in a clamp so soon into their marriage.

  “Yes, sir.”

  It’s not like I’m going to tell Anderson, ‘Hell, no!’ although sometimes it’s really tempting. You know when you go to the same coffee shop every morning and order the same drink the same way? Some days you just want to say, ‘Double vodka and Red Bull’ just to see the look on their faces.

  And while I’m not happy about Maria leaving the mansion before we locate Landon, at least Maria will be out of the building while security is tightened yet again. I want this whole fucking building—and next door—more waterproof than a duck’s ass.

  Her grandfather knows the score and the boys have been advised that they need to be careful: each of them has one of Mason’s men with them 24/7. The two younger boys are enjoying the notoriety of having armed escorts at school—Joachim, not so much.

  “Reynolds! You’re up. You’re on escort with Mrs. Anderson today. Try not to let her on the loose this time.”

  “Boss,” he says, without rising to my fucking hilarious witticism.

  After we dodge the media waiting for her outside, I drive Maria and Banner to DMA Tower, deliver her into Pam’s tender care, then head back to Wolf Point.

  I’m glad to see that Reynolds has already gone to work on reformatting the elevator and garage codes, even though Kranz didn’t access the building, but the gloom doesn’t exactly lift when Detective Cooper, the lead investigator, arrives shortly after.

  He wants to interview the boss.

  This is going to be interesting.

  Despite Cooper’s irritation, I wait at the back of the room, listening to the entire interview. I’m not going to leave a ticking time bomb of insanity alone with an officer of the law, even if he is armed.

  Cooper: Can you tell me about your relationship with Wyatt Kranz.

  Anderson: I don’t have a relationship with him.

  Cooper: Have you ever met him.

  Anderson: No.

  Cooper: Are you aware that Kranz is an associate of Frederick Landon, a friend of your father’s?

  Anderson: I became aware of that information recently.

  Cooper: How recently.

  Anderson: Last Thursday.

  Cooper: Were you surprised?

  Anderson: Yes.

  Cooper: Why?

  Anderson: I believed that Mr. Landon was a true family friend. His connection with Kranz has caused me to revise that belief.

  Cooper: What is your relationship with Frederick Landon?

  Anderson: I have invested in his chain of cigar bars. A silent partner, you might say.

  Cooper: And he was your piano teacher as a child?

  Anderson: Yes.

  Cooper: For how long?

  Anderson: Ten years.

  Cooper: You must be a very good pianist.

  Anderson: [no reply]

  Cooper: How would you describe your relationship with Frederick Landon?

  Anderson: Business partners.

  Cooper: Nothing more?

  Anderson: No.

 
Cooper: Nothing more, ever?

  Anderson: Your point?

  Cooper: Mr. Trainer is your bodyguard, I understand.

  Anderson: He’s my driver.

  Cooper: And formerly under the command of Lieutenant-Colonel Norman Mason, US Marines?

  Anderson: Is there a point to this line of questioning?

  Cooper: Do you know why Kranz might have targeted Mrs. Anderson?

  Anderson: She’s my wife.

  Cooper: Anything more personal?

  Anderson: There isn’t anything more personal.

  Cooper: I meant…

  Anderson: I’m aware what you meant. No, but we have reason to believe that Kranz was involved with an arson attempt at DMA Tower. We can’t prove it, but we can, however, prove that he was trespassing at DMA Tower the day before the fire.

  Cooper: Arson? None of this has been reported!

  Anderson: My security team has been handling it.

  Cooper: Apparently not.

  Me: [I really don’t like this guy. Scrawny motherfucker. Ugly suit.]

  Anderson: My wife is the most important thing in the world to me. Do you think I give a shit about anything else?

  Cooper: I’d like to see the dossier your team has prepared.

  Anderson: Trainer will see to that.

  Cooper: Is there anything you’d like to add?

  Anderson: No.

  Cooper: I’ll need to interview Mrs. Anderson.

  Anderson: Why?

  Cooper: [impatiently] Because, Mr. Anderson, she was at the scene. And she was the target. I can schedule an appointment at her office and…

  Anderson: No. Here.

  Cooper: That’s not necessary.

  Anderson: It’s very fucking necessary.

  Cooper: [Sighs and nods] Thank you for your time, Mr. Anderson. I’ll see myself out.

  Anderson: Tell that bastard Kranz that if he ever comes near my wife again, I’ll fucking kill him.

  Me: [Shit.]

  [Cooper exits.]

  Later that day, Anderson instructs me to collect Maria and Banner, and then says I’ve got the evening off. Rachel, too.

  I’m grateful for the alone time, but it makes me nervous for Maria. Anderson’s fuse is very short and Maria has a nasty habit of tossing around lit matches. But hey, it’s their marriage.

  Banner is off duty now, and I tell Evans and Reynolds to stay out of the staff quarters on pain of excommunication. I don’t care if they’re hungry, thirsty, or geographically challenged. They stay. The. Fuck. Out.

  My thoughts return reluctantly to Maria. If I had to make a guess, I’d say that Anderson is planning to teach Maria a lesson in personal safety. I doubt it’s in the approved Human Resources and People Management Manual. It’s none of my business, but I’m worried nevertheless.

  “She’ll be fine,” says Rachel, for the ninth or tenth time. Mr. Anderson has learned his lesson. He won’t do anything foolish.”

  “You think? Because when it comes to Maria, the man isn’t rational.”

  “Love isn’t rational,” she says patiently. “We’ve both learned that. But he does love her and right now he’s scared. They’ll work it out.”

  I wish that I had Rachel’s faith in the miracle that is human nature, because in my experience while you’re waiting for smiles, shit happens: the first time when you’re not watching and the second time when you turn around to see where the stink is coming from.

  “What can I do to distract you?” asks Rachel.

  Now she has my full attention.

  “Oh, Ms. Smith, that is a very leading question.”

  Evans and Reynolds are still in the staff living room which really pisses me the fuck off. They don’t say anything as I march inside, they just pick up their coffee cups and plates of sandwiches and head for the CCTV room.

  Yeah, and don’t come back.

  And then I take Rachel and won’t let her go.

  She’s emotional and over-tired, and even in sleep she clings to me. And I want to sleep, I really do. I crave the empty vacuum of unconsciousness. I need to turn off my brain, but I can’t. My thoughts are indistinct and hazy, and it’s impossible to pick out one and chase it down, analyze it, dispose of it.

  Why does love have to hurt so bad?

  I ease myself out of Rachel’s arms, afraid that my restlessness will wake her. I pull on sweatpants and head for the office. Odd how my place of work can be so calming. Shit, I really need to get another job or Anderson’s therapist will be making time for a new patient. Although it may already be too late.

  I try checking my emails then re-read Evans’ report. When I hear footsteps in the corridor, I count down in my head…

  Five…

  Four…

  Three…

  Two…

  “Trainer?”

  One.

  We have lift-off.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Thank you.”

  He nods and leaves.

  Now I know the world is going to end.

  Chapter 31

  Bad Day at Black Rock

  EVANS CALLS SHORTLY after I drive Anderson and Maria to work.

  “Sit-rep?”

  “Kranz is still singing the tune that it was Evans who started it.”

  “What?!”

  “Yeah, Cooper wants to interview Mrs. Anderson with Dolores again.”

  “That won’t go down well.”

  “No. But at least Kranz hasn’t gotten bail.”

  Hmm, I wonder which strings Anderson pulled? Because you know what, we have due process in the good ole US of A; the right to a speedy trial. But Krantz has been waiting over two weeks to be arraigned.

  “Everything in place for the ASA function tomorrow?”

  “Yes. Extra security arranged and venue has been scoped. Report on your desk, T.”

  FOR NEARLY TWO weeks, things are quiet. I should be pleased, but it makes me nervous. It’s like when Lilly was a toddler: if I could hear her, I didn’t worry; but when I couldn’t … yeah, that’s when it’s time to worry.

  Cooper has tried to schedule another meeting with Maria, but so far Anderson has refused to cooperate. He wants to keep Maria away from all the crazy. He doesn’t seem to realize that he brought the crazy with him when he married her. Or maybe he does and feels guilty for it. Either way, he tries to block it out.

  I was the same when my marriage was crumbling. I didn’t want to believe I’d failed, but head-in-the-sand isn’t the best solution.

  Security is still tight. Not only is there no further information on Kranz, the blackmailer or Landon—and I’m certain that the fuckers are connected even more deeply than we know—but Anderson has meetings with lawyers about the Taiwanese shipyard. Pam has worked her balls off to set up this deal. It’s not just worth billions of dollars, but thousands of West Coast jobs. Anderson wants it, but his Washington state businesses need it, or shipbuilding in the US will be on a new endangered list.

  They’re waiting for Anderson in the boardroom.

  It’s business as usual.

  But just when it seems like everything is going to be okay…

  IT’S THURSDAY EVENING when I hear the sounds of Maria screaming from the main room. I run from my office, Smith & Wesson in hand.

  I skid to a halt, my heart thundering. Rachel puts her finger to her lips and shakes her head.

  “What the fuck?”

  She tugs me back toward the office.

  “Don’t,” she says, softly.

  “What the hell’s going on? It sounded like World War Three in there!”

  Rachel’s eyes are serious but smiling and she clings to my arm.

  “Maria just told him she’s pregnant.”

  I look at her in amazement.

  “But … what … isn’t she … isn’t that…” my words tail off in stunned disbelief. “I didn’t think it was possible—what she said about having had chemo…”

  Rachel has this goofy smile on her face.

  “I
know! It’s a miracle! Isn’t it wonderful?!”

  “Nice one, boss!”

  Rachel shoots me a look that singes my eyebrows. Guess that was the wrong response.

  “Um, I mean, isn’t the boss happy?”

  Rachel smiles and laughs and maybe cries a little.

  “He’s so happy! I think … I think he was crying! Maria was screaming, well, you heard, it’s just … well, she never thought … oh Justin! Isn’t it wonderful? There’ll be a child in the house—it’s just what this place needs.”

  I think of Princess Lilly and how much I miss her, hearing her voice chattering away to herself, her amazing little girl smell, and her hugs—my baby gives the best hugs.

  “Yeah, it’ll be good for the boss—not sure how he’ll handle it though.”

  “He did look shocked, scared, too.”

  I remember that feeling well. When Carla told me that I’d knocked her up, I panicked, wondering what kind of a father I’d make and how the hell I was going to protect this new life from a seriously fucked up world. Hell, if my own father was anything to go by, my gene pool should have been made extinct.

  I’m not surprised Anderson is freaking out.

  He’s come a long way since he met Maria. It’s a shame that he doesn’t know it. He copes best when he’s in control. Unlike now. Yeah, well, dream on because you’re married, buddy. Throw a kid into the equation and we’re at DEFCON1.

  “They’ll work it out,” she says, soothingly. “They love each other,” she says, confidently.

  Love isn’t the problem.

  The next day, Maria is tired but glowing with happiness. Anderson seems dazed—he’s in so much shit.

  Not that I’m feeling smug. Much. Hardly at all.

  “Banner,” she sing-songs, “I’ll be ready to leave in twenty minutes. Mr. Anderson will be making his own way to work.”

  “Would you like some breakfast, Mrs. Anderson?”

  That’s my Rachel—always the caregiver.

  “I’m not hungry, thank you. I’m actually feeling a little sick…”

  Anderson opens his mouth to speak but Maria silences him with a kiss.

  He pulls back, a look of desire mixed with anger.

  “We had a little argument about that,” Maria says to Rachel. “Devon is learning how to lose an argument gracefully.”