Vote Then Read: Volume I

by Carly Phillips

  “We'll see, Maddy.” Dawn gave her a certain look he’d recalled from his own mother. “Do you mind getting us some iced tea?”

  Madeline rolled her eyes.

  “I'll help,” Starr moved toward Madeline.

  “Don't say anything important while we're gone,” She gestured with her hands before turning the corner to go into what he surmised was the kitchen.

  Dawn's face schooled to something neutral, unreadable. “Starr seems nice.”

  “She is. Madeline is ...”

  “Amazing? Yeah, she is.”

  He didn’t remember Dawn being so … cool. Of course, he hadn’t known her that well, had he? He pressed fingers against the back of his neck trying to loosen the knots there. “Listen, I'm not good at this, but would you be willing to ... talk?”

  Dawn cracked a smile for the first time. “That's the first time I've ever heard you say you wanted to talk.”

  “I've changed.”

  She cocked her head. “I believe you have.” She gazed at the hallway where the girls had disappeared. “Starr responsible for some of that?”

  “Probably all.”

  Dawn gestured to the couch. “Then don't let her go.”

  Like he would ever think of such a thing. “Thank you for letting me come and see Madeline. I’d like to get to know her. I mean, if that’s all right.”

  She sat back. “Then we do have a lot to talk about.”

  For the first time in over a decade, the urge to talk, to explain, to learn, crowded his head and made him jittery. He had to learn everything he could about his daughter. He even wanted to know how Dawn had fared.

  “Know any good places to buy an engagement ring?” Because why not?

  Dawn's face cracked into a large smile. “Take Madeline. She'd love it.”

  He got the curious sensation that his life was changing as he sat there. He stared at the photo in his hands. A ton of dead weight dissolved into the ether at the thought. He was no longer just the ex-con. He was an ex-husband, father, a son, an employee, a friend, and with any luck—Starr’s husband.

  Starr rounded the corner carrying a tray of glasses with Madeline behind her holding a large pitcher of iced tea. Glass clinked against glass.

  “Mom, Starr has two sisters. They're triplets. Isn't that cool?”

  Starr looked at him and winked. His heart about stopped for the millionth time since he'd laid eyes on her—and he hoped it would for a million more. Hope wasn't a strategy, but he was okay with that. He was okay with everything.

  Oh, except Starr needed his ring on her fourth finger. Then life would be perfect.

  Epilogue

  Declan stood on the loading dock at the far end of the storeroom gazing out over the Patapsco River. His jacket and pants legs ruffled in the wind. In the bright sunshine, the passage of time showed in the lines etched on the side of his face and the salt and pepper dusting of his temples.

  Nathan sidled up to the man. “Heard you wanted to talk to me.”

  Declan glanced his way and then trained his gaze once more on the river, the surface barely rippling in the wind. “Heard you and Starr finally got engaged.”

  He scrubbed his hair. Fuck, he should have told Declan. Sure, it’d been less than twenty-four hours, but the man deserved to be one of the first. “Hey, sorry, man. I should have told you by now.” He glanced backward. He’d left Starr at the front part of the storeroom to sift through some props. They both should have been here to deliver the news.

  Declan raised his hand. “Not at all.” He squared himself to Nathan. “Congratulations. Really, you and Starr deserve every happiness.”

  He was beginning to believe it. “She certainly does. I’m not about to get a fatherly talk, am I?”

  The guy laughed. “No, I believe you have things under control there. I hope not much else changes, though.”

  The man thought he’d leave? Fat chance. “We’re not going anywhere, in case that’s what you’re wondering.” If he’d learned anything in recent times, it was how important it was to stick together. The whole “stronger together” shit worked. Nearby, her laugher rang out. It was comforting to know she wasn’t far away.

  “Good.” Declan turned to face the river once more. “I have something to tell you, and I wanted you to hear it from me directly.”

  Worry twisted his gut. “Okay.”

  “You know the MacKennas and I have a long history.”

  Yeah, he knew. What was the man getting at? “Right.”

  Declan hesitated for a second, placed both hands on his cane and pushed down as if trying to drill a hole in the concrete. “What you don’t know is that history goes to the very beginning. My mother’s maiden name was Kate Louisa MacKenna.”

  Cold tingled up his spine and across his scalp. “Wait. You’re related to the MacKennas.”

  “Tomas MacKenna was my mother’s brother. That makes—”

  “Daniel, Ruark, and Carragh, your cousins.”

  “Yes.” He sighed heavily. “It was a recent discovery—”

  “How recent?”

  Declan scratched his neck with one hand. “You want to hear this story or not?”

  The man couldn’t expect much patience from him. That family had screwed him over royally—hell screwed Declan over royally. “Go on,” he said.

  “My mother was estranged. Married someone no one in the family approved of, got pregnant with me, and was disinherited—the usual MacKenna heavy-handedness to prove a point. She didn’t care. She’d wanted out of her family, her whole life. Later, after she died, let’s just say they came looking for me. They don’t like loose ends.”

  “How were you a loose end?”

  “Family means everything to Tomas. When he learned one of his family members was out doing his own thing, uncontrolled, well …”

  “I see where Ruark gets his sociopathy from.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  Did he want to know more? He had to know now, didn’t he? “They’re never going to stop, are they?”

  “We have a truce at the moment. Carragh seems more reasonable.”

  Nathan let out a disbelieving huff. “He’s considered reasonable?”

  “Well, the bar is quite low in that family.”

  Didn’t he know it.

  “I told you because we need to prepare for another round. Ruark will get out sometime, and knowing them, sooner than we want. Given he will be released after you …well, let’s say they consider that a loss of face.”

  “Of what? Pride?” Why did he even have to ask these questions? Nothing that family did made any sense. They believed they could craft their own world with rules and goals most normal people would never consider.

  Declan sighed, thumped his cane once on the ground. “The thing is, they don’t want any more bloodshed.”

  “No, they want slavery.”

  Declan’s chin nodded a few times. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  “I’ve got news for them. I don’t care what the fuck your MacKenna relatives think …”

  A gasp sounded from behind them. They both turned at the same time. Starr and Phoenix stood there, each holding up a costume to their bodies – Starr with a flapper dress and Phoenix with a Cleopatra get-up.

  Starr’s mouth had dropped to an “O” as if she’d been struck. He moved to her, and she stepped forward into his arms.

  Phoenix, however, stood frozen, her blue eyes growing colder, brighter, as the red blossomed on her cheeks. “You son of a bitch.” She threw the garment down to the concrete and sped back into the storeroom.

  Declan sighed heavily. “Fuck.”

  Nathan didn’t often hear the man curse, but if anytime called for it, it would be now.

  Declan peered at Starr, who slowly shook her head. “We heard wrong, didn’t we?” she asked.

  The man gazed toward the ground. “I’m afraid not.” He turned back to face the water, the veins in his neck growing more pronounced, as if he was ho
lding back strong emotion.

  Starr eased herself from Nathan’s hold. He let her go. She stepped tentatively up to Declan, touched his arm. “I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever it is, please tell me—”

  “What?” His head swung her way sharply. “That I’m not tied to the family who put you in danger and Nathan in prison? I can’t.”

  It never quit, did it? They just couldn’t catch a break for long.

  “Are we in danger?” she asked.

  At those words, Nathan stepped back to her and banded her against his chest. “Never again, North Star.” He placed a kiss on the top of her forehead and glared at Declan over her head.

  He glanced up at him, then back to Starr.

  “I know what to do, and it does not involve danger to anyone.”

  Good, and Nathan was going to be all ears once the dust settled. Starr had started to tremble, and he couldn’t allow that.

  She swallowed. “Then don’t give up on her. We trust you.”

  “Good.” He stared back out at the water “I’d have to be dead before I’d give up on Phoenix.”

  Nathan held Starr tighter. “That’s the problem. Dead is Ruark’s specialty.”

  ~The End ~

  If you loved Tough Luck, you’ll love Tough Break, the next Shakedown series story. ]

  Declan Phillips, Shakedown’s owner, doesn’t pine for women. They come to him. Throw themselves at him. No one understands his obsession with cold, angry Phoenix Rising, a dancer in his club. But how could they know what she did for him so long ago? He owes her, and he won’t stop until every trace of the hurt and betrayal he sees in her eyes is gone.

  1

  Vanessa

  Today

  The cab stops in front of Seaforth Towers. After so many years abroad, Laurel Falls feels more foreign than France. I stand on the sidewalk and stare up at the twin spires. They project into the clear blue sky, dwarfing all the other skyscrapers in the city, a testament to my father’s influence. Following his fall from power, I’ve been given the reins to his empire. The way life changes when we least expect it never fails to amaze me.

  I take the elevator to the top floor. A line of desks flank the approach to my door. Tension charges the atmosphere. Heads snap to watch me pass. I nod, offering greetings to each of the employees. Because I’m so new, I still don’t know their names but vow to learn them before the end of the week. My assistants, Ivan and Elena, scurry to my side.

  “Good morning, Ms. Seaforth,” they say in unison.

  “Good morning.” A thrill flutters in my stomach. I’ve waited all my life for this opportunity, a chance to prove I’m more than the rich guy’s daughter or the diplomat’s ex-wife. Ivan extends a steaming cup of espresso roast, my favorite, with a dollop of whipped cream on top. “You don’t have to fetch coffee. I’m perfectly capable of getting it.”

  “It’s my pleasure, Ms. Seaforth,” he says. His somber expression lightens. He’s a trim thirty-something with soft brown eyes and slender, sensitive hands.

  “How’s your wife? And the baby?” I ask.

  “They’re doing well, thank you.” His eyebrows lift the smallest amount. I have a feeling my father never asked about the welfare of his employees. He certainly never asked about mine. “The doctor says they can come home tomorrow.”

  “Babies are such a blessing. Did you take tomorrow off? You should.”

  “No, I didn’t want to miss work. My mother-in-law is going to pick them up.”

  “Nonsense. You need to be there. A new baby only comes home from the hospital once.” This talk of kids causes my heart to squeeze. My children are half a world away with their father. I miss them more than I ever imagined. They spend the school year with me, summers with my ex-husband Giles and his new twenty-two year old wife. I blink away the sting of tears and force a smile.

  “Company policy doesn’t cover personal leave unless you’ve been on the job for a year. I’ve only been here for eleven months.” He shakes his head then glances at Elena, like he can’t believe his ears.

  “I’m sure we can work something out.” Before I turn to my office, I stop and speak to Elena. “Would you get with the head of HR and set an appointment for us to meet? I’d like to review the policies.” Knowing my father, he’d washed his hands of personnel relations, but I intend to remedy any oversights. A happy employee is a loyal employee.

  “Certainly.” She taps a note into her tablet.

  “Can I just say again how excited we are to work for you?” The enthusiasm in Ivan’s voice breaks a bit of the ice surrounding us. “Before you came along, the atmosphere was unbearable. You’ve lightened the mood considerably.”

  “Thank you. I’m pleased to be here.” Which is the understatement of the year. I still can’t believe it. I feel like an imposter, posing as the head of America’s largest conglomerate. Any moment, I expect security to burst through the doors and usher me out.

  Elena remains expressionless, taking my briefcase and coat. She’s slender, her brown hair in a sleek chignon, her clothing on the cutting edge of fashion. An air of calm capability swirls around her, soothing my nerves. “Your brother is waiting in your office.”

  “Ugh.” I can’t resist rolling my eyes.

  Ivan clears his throat to hold back a chuckle.

  Sure enough, Sam sits behind my desk, his back to the door, staring through the wall of windows onto the cityscape. When I close the door, he swivels to face me. He looks comfortable there, dressed in a sharp gray suit and electric blue tie, as he should. My father intended for Sam to assume his place, not his oldest daughter. A wave of inadequacy knots my stomach. I chase it away and straighten my shoulders.

  He rocks back in the chair. “It’s seven-thirty. Half the day is gone already. You’re going to have to up your game if you want to play with the big boys.”

  “Don’t you ever sleep?” I ask.

  “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” The tone of his voice is confident, commanding. When Sam speaks, everyone—including me—listens.

  “Dad would be so proud.” A portrait of Maxwell hangs on the wall to my left. Sam’s resemblance to our father rattles my fragile composure. The same square jaw, blazing green eyes, and air of control. Sunlight sparks in his blond hair. Aside from the disparity in ages, they could be twins instead of father and son. By contrast, I look more like my mother; dark blond, busty, classic features.

  Elena sets my briefcase on the credenza. “Do you need anything before I go?”

  “No, thanks. I’m good.” I give her a smile. “But you could get my brother a life.”

  He smirks. “I have more lives than I can handle right now.”

  We’ve been apart for half of our lives, but the years fell away quickly when we reunited. He helped me obtain a divorce from Giles and backed my campaign to lead Seaforth Industries. His wife, Dakota, has been welcoming. The rediscovery of our family has left me overwhelmed and grateful. “Thank you for helping out. I appreciate it.”

  “No problem.” Sam is a man of few words. He smooths his tie. “We need to go over the financials. I’ve asked the accountants to meet with us after lunch. Did you look at the reports I sent to you?”

  “Yes. I made some notes.” He’s still sitting in my chair. I cock an eyebrow.

  “Sorry.” By the tone of his voice, he’s not sorry at all.

  My temper bristles. When he doesn’t move, I crowd the chair. “Do you mind?”

  He chuckles, reminding me of our childhood, and the way he used to pull my pigtails if I challenged him. “Lighten up, Vanessa. You look like you’re about to get a root canal.”

  “I don’t want to screw up.” It’s the first time I’ve admitted my insecurity to anyone other than the bathroom mirror.

  “Relax.” The hard edge of his voice softens for the briefest moment. He stands and squeezes my shoulder. “Remember, you asked for this.”

  How can I forget? My father fought my involvement from the very start, certain a woman was i
ncapable of managing his baby. Sam had been the one to back me up. While he remained the overall man in charge, he had his own empire to run, leaving me to hold the reins. “You don’t think I can do this.”

  “Running a billion-dollar enterprise is nothing like managing a mid-level corporation.” I open my mouth to reply, but he raises a hand. “Which you did to perfection at your last job, may I add. However, Maxwell has mismanaged everything from the bottom up. We need to pool our resources if we want to save Seaforth Industries. Stock is down. Some of the subsidiaries are ripe for a takeover. Trust me, I know.”

  One of Sam’s many talents is the ability to sniff out weak companies, sneak beneath their radar, and acquire them for a fraction of their worth. If anyone understands the situation, it’s my brother.

  “Yes. I get it.” I can’t hold back a note of irritation. “I don’t need you to hold my hand.”

  His laughter rings across the room. “There’s the sister I remember. Good to have you back.” In a flash, his demeanor sobers, and his attention turns to a stack of folders. He takes one from the top and hands it to me. “We’re having breakfast with the head of Seaforth Media—” he pauses to glance at his watch, “—in thirty minutes. He’s uncomfortable with the change of management and wants to discuss a plan for recovery. This is the Cliffs Notes version of Seaforth Media’s status.”

  “You couldn’t have given this to me yesterday?” I hate being unprepared. With a scowl, I open the folder and riffle through the pages. The front page contains a list of the key players. One name in particular catches my eye. My heart screeches to a full stop. Cameron Blackwood? I blink, certain I’m hallucinating.

  “I didn’t have all the numbers until late last night.”

  I miss the rest of what Sam says. I’m too busy trying to hold onto my sanity. “Cameron is running Seaforth Media?” My Cam? He was my father’s first choice after Sam to head Seaforth Industries, but I never thought we’d brush shoulders.

  “Yes, he’s the main partner.” Sam’s eyes narrow.