It Takes Two

by Allie K. Adams

  “You know not saying anything seals your guilt.”

  “What do you want me to say? Yes, Jeremy and I…”

  “Had sex.”

  “We had great sex,” she laughed, relieved to finally be able to say something. Whitney broke the employee agreement on a regular basis. Chad in marketing was the latest violation.

  “Why would you keep something like that from me? I tell you everything.”

  “It’s against the rules.”

  “Oh, come on. It’s not like you’re going to be called into HR for it. You run the company, remember?”

  “For how long?” Her eyes swelled with the fear that tonight could be her last night in this office.

  “Oh, sweetie. God, I can’t believe what a selfish bitch I’ve been.” Grabbing a chair, she scooted it up and took a seat before resting her elbows on the desk, her chin on her hands. “Talk to me. Tell me what you have so far.”

  “That’s just it,” she replied wearily. “I don’t have anything.”

  Whitney’s expression of bright eagerness melted to concern. “Hasn’t your hunk of a CPA found anything? It’s been four days.”

  Six, counting the day the Bowman twins reappeared in her life. “What am I going to do?”

  “I’m just going to put this out there. I went to him today.”

  “You did?” Bree had to swallow to wet her suddenly dry throat. Please don’t let it be for anything sexual. She couldn’t complete with Whit when it came to looks. Or personality. Or experience. “Why?”

  “I want to hire our own personal security. Now that I know he’s not found a thing to help you, I want to hire an independent accounting firm, as well.”

  “You want to cut him out completely?”

  “Look at you,” she pleaded, practically in tears. “You used to be the strongest woman I know. Now you’re weepy and second-guessing everything. I don’t think he’s good for you. There, I said it.”

  Bree didn’t know what to say. Whit had never held anything back when she talked to her. It was one of the many things she admired about her sister-in-law. Except today. Today, she didn’t want one of Whit’s in-your-face pep talks. Today, she just wanted her to tell her it would be okay.

  Oh, my God. She was right. Bree had reverted back to that insecure girl constantly looking for validation. Yes, she missed Bree Willows and would love to be her again, but she couldn’t go backward. She was Bree Harrington now. Self-assured. Confident. Perfectly poised. That’s the woman the board needed in front of them tonight, not the unsure girl of yesterday.

  “You need someone as strong as you,” Whitney went on. “You need an equal, not someone who beats down your confidence to bring you to his level.”

  While she didn’t agree with Whit that Jeremy beat down any level of her confidence—quite the opposite—she got the message. Loud and clear. She needed to challenge the future, not try to change the past. In order to do that, she needed to stay focused. Jeremy caused her to lose focus.

  “I need to let him go.” Saying it aloud caused physical pain. Her chest tightened. With everything she had, she pushed the emotions aside and channeled every ounce of confidence she could muster up.

  “You need to let him go,” she repeated and took Bree’s hand. “Trust me, sweetie. You’ll be better off in the long run.”

  “I’m going to die alone,” she groaned.

  “No, you won’t.” Whit squeezed her hand. “You’ll always have me. We’ll be like that old couple in the Notebook. I’ll always be your voice of reason. I love you.”

  “What would I do without you?”

  “Die alone.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “And, on that pleasant note.” She smiled and stood. “It’s time for you to convince the board you belong here.”

  Dragging herself to her feet, she grabbed a notepad and pen, and walked to the door. “Wish me luck.”

  Whit sat at Bree’s desk. “I’ll hold down the fort.”

  “What about you leaving early?”

  “I’ll cancel my plans. This is more important.”

  “You sure you won’t come with me?”

  She shook her head. “Sorry, sweetie. Because I’ve already abstained, I’m not allowed in. My presence may sway the vote or some BS. I think Gleason makes the bylaws up as he goes.”

  That actually was in the bylaws. Bree had helped craft them. She would know. “Here goes nothing.”

  * * * *

  “That’s nine in favor, two against, and one abstain.” Drew Gleason stated with glee. His beady little eyes danced as he grinned. “The decision is yours, Mrs. Harrington. The press release will go out within the hour. How it reads is up to you.”

  Bree was numb. Despite everything she’d done for this company, everything she’d sacrificed, she’d failed. Holding the majority of the shares meant nothing when it came to the direction of her company. No, not her company. It was no longer her company. She’d just been ousted. Voted off the island. Her world as she knew it was over.

  “I’ll need your decision,” Gleason pushed. “Return the money and we’ll say you resigned after mutual agreement. Refuse, and we’ll start criminal proceedings against you. You’ll go to prison, Mrs. Harrington. Return the money and walk away.”

  “I didn’t take it,” she repeated for the millionth time. “I don’t know where it went, but it wasn’t me who took it.”

  “I guess that will be up to a jury of your peers. We’ve hired an outside firm to track the money and they confirm what we had suspected all along. The evidence is overwhelming. You took the money.”

  “What if I covered what went missing?” If she couldn’t convince her own board, she’d never stand a chance in front of a jury. It would clear out her bank account and a few of her short-term CDs, but she’d walk away with a clear conscience. Goggles would remain unblemished. As soon as TREX found the money, she’d be exonerated.

  Gleason glanced around the table at the other directors. They all looked as shocked as he did.

  Barbara DeMost, head of the company’s marketing, spoke up. She was the first to vote against Bree. “Why would you be willing to pay almost a million dollars if you had nothing to do with why it’s gone missing?”

  “The money doesn’t matter,” Bree explained, her chin held high. “Goggles is all that matters.”

  She furrowed her brow and tilted her head. “You really love this company, don’t you?”

  “I do.”

  The women held each other’s gazes until Gleason’s comment pulled their attention to him. “Accepted.”

  Bree blinked. “What?”

  “As I’ve already outlined,” he went on, his tone laced with irritation. “Returning the money keeps you out of prison.”

  “I’m not returning the money,” she clarified. “I’m replacing it. There’s a big difference.”

  “Regardless what you call it, the end result is the same. Now, as stated in the bylaws, the vice president will serve as the interim president for the remainder of the term.”

  At least all wasn’t completely lost. As vice president, Whitney Harrington took over Goggles, effective the instant that vote had passed.

  The realization hit Bree. She was no longer the president. On top of that, she had to use a few thousand shy of a million dollars of her own money to buy her freedom. If it kept Goggles alive, it’d be worth it.

  She hoped.

  With nothing left to say, she left the boardroom and returned to her office. No, not her office. Whitney’s office. She still sat at the large desk, her feet propped on the surface, the desk phone to her ear. “I already told you. I’m still at work. We’ll have to do it another night. Yes, I promise I’ll make it up to you.” She dropped her feet and shot forward. “Wait, you know how to do that?”

  Bree knocked, not wanting to eavesdrop on her conversation and really not wanting to hear the rest. Whitney ended to call and jumped to her feet. No words were spoken. The room blurred as the harsh reality came cr
ashing down. Her chin quivered as she choked on a sob.

  “No,” Whitney whispered, tears springing to her eyes.

  “They took Goggles.” She ran into Whit’s open arms and broke down.

  * * * *

  “Evening, Mrs. Harrington.” Rand greeted her with a nod.

  She slid into the backseat and immediately spotted the drink. Did she tell him about her favorite liquor? Then again, she didn’t have to. No doubt TREX had a file on her. Every agent knew her favorite drink, her favorite food, and even her favorite movie. After an exceptionally craptastic day, she needed that glass of Pendleton.

  “Thank you for this, Rand.” She held the drink in both hands and sipped. The cool liquid slid down her throat. Not having time to eat lunch today, the alcohol mixed with her blood fast, relaxing her. She eased back on the seat and let out a long sigh.

  “That sounds heavy. Rough day?”

  “The worst.” She drained the glass and shuddered at the burn.

  “How bad can it be?”

  “About like this.” She grabbed the bottle by the neck and took a swig. “My board just took my company from me. Oh, and if that wasn’t bad enough, I have to cut a check for nine hundred and eighty-eight thousand dollars or they file criminal charges against me for embezzlement.” She threw back another swallow and rested her head on the seat.

  “Want some friendly advice?”

  Ever since the attempt on her life, Rand had treated her differently. Tuesday’s argument turned into a heartfelt apology on Wednesday and an extra-long way home Thursday so they could talk. As long as they kept the subject on TREX and why they were all here, they never ran out of things to talk about. Any deviation and he closed right up. The man did not like to talk about himself.

  But he sure loved to give advice like a big brother. She was going to miss him when this ended. “Sure.”

  “It’s a job. It’s not your life.”

  That was advice? “Goggles is my life.”

  “You said that the other night and never let me finish before jumping to the wrong conclusion. You’re missing the point.”

  She bit the inside of her lip to stop from telling him where to stick his point. “And that is?”

  “If Goggles collapsed tomorrow, would you still be breathing?”

  “Of course, but—”

  “You created the company,” he interrupted and sliced his hand through the air. “You can do it again.”

  “Not alone. I had—”

  “You can do it again,” he repeated with more conviction. “Companies come and go and come again. You don’t. Once you go, you’re gone. Understand?”

  “Not really.” It was Rand who didn’t understand. Starting over wasn’t an option. She’d lost everything. Before, she had Peter. They had Peter’s dad’s investment firm backing the entire venture. She didn’t have any of that now. Peter was gone. His dad no longer talked to her after she went to him for help when the Japanese company wanted to take hers. He’d refused and went on to accuse her of being a risk now that Peter had passed.

  “For ten years as a SEAL, I watched good men get consumed by the job. Each one of them thought the world would end if they so much as took a break. They eventually burned out, or worse. My friend ate a bullet when his wife left him for always putting the job first. He thought that was it. The world was over. He believed death would stop the pain. It only stopped it for him.” He fell silent and stared straight ahead. The expression slid from his face and his eyes saddened.

  “I’m sorry to hear about your friend, Rand.” She reached over the seat and squeezed his large shoulder. It was like squeezing a rock. “When I lost Peter, I didn’t think I’d ever recover. But I did.”

  “But you did,” he agreed. “What did you do before Goggles? Before Peter? Before graduating high school?”

  She smiled as the memories flooded her mind like an old movie reel. Most of those memories included Jeremy. Taking a long pull from the glass, she relished in the way the whiskey numbed her. The alcohol had gone straight to her head, blurring her thoughts. “It’s not that simple, not anymore.”

  “Find what complicated it and decide if it’s worth where you are now. My sister writes books. Romances.” He made a face, and Bree rolled her eyes. She loved reading romances. The happily ever after. It was something everyone wanted. Even someone as gruff as Rand, whether he admitted it or not. “She always says to keep it simple. The best plots are the simple ones. If it’s too hard, declutter it. Make it less complicated.”

  Finding what complicated her life was the easy part. She’d grown up. She and Peter had created a very successful company, and when he died, she’d taken it all on. Was owning Goggles worth the complications in her life? Absolutely. Could she live without it? Technically, yes. Did she want to? No.

  “Goggles is all I’ve ever known,” she explained. It wouldn’t make a difference to Rand, but it would to her. She wanted him to know why she couldn’t lose her company and had to find a way to get it back.

  “Did you ride a bike as a kid?”

  Odd question. She frowned and nodded. The inside of the car spun as a result. Knowing when to stop and wishing she had, she corked the bottle and replaced it before pushing her drink aside. “I think just about every kid did.”

  “Why?”

  “It got me from point A to point B faster than walking.”

  “When you got your license, you ditched the bike for a car.”

  “As fast as I could,” she laughed.

  “Have you ever left the state?”

  “Of course.” She glanced out the window, grateful for the AC. The heatwaves coming off the pavement looked brutal.

  “Did you drive?”

  “Flew commercial at first. When we could afford it, we bought a corporate jet.” She used to hate flying. The lines and lines of security. Either getting to the gate two hours early or barely making the flight. Being packed in like sardines for hours on end. Flying commercial was brutal. Now, with the corporate jet, she loved it. Leather seats. Anything she wanted to eat or drink. Internet. TV. Yet another perk she’d lost when her board voted her out.

  “Would you rather fly or drive?”

  “Fly.”

  “Drive or bike.”

  “Drive.” They’d already gone over that one. “What are you getting at? Why so many questions about transportation?”

  “Never look at an impossible situation as anything more than the next vehicle to get you from point A to point B.”

  Damn. He was good. And, more importantly, he was right. “You know, you’re a pretty smart guy sometimes.”

  “So they tell me.” He kicked his lips into a half grin, lighting up his dark eyes. He really was a good-looking guy, for someone as gruff and bearlike as him. “It’s all a matter of how complicated you want to make it. Bikes have less parts than cars. Less parts mean less things to break down. Same with cars to planes. Keep it simple.”

  “But I really liked that plane.”

  “Is having the plane worth all the parts it takes to keep it going? Sounds awfully complicated to me. And expensive.”

  “Tell me about it. I started saving for a car when I was eleven. I rode my bike every morning for five years on that paper route. Jeremy would help on Sundays and holidays since the papers were so big. When I’d finally saved up enough for a car, I made him go with me to buy it. I was so sure I’d screw it up.” She laughed at the memory. Jeremy had reluctantly agreed and did the best he could as the token male. He’d approved the purchase, so she bought it. They broke down on the way home. “Turns out he doesn’t know a thing about cars.”

  “But he knows numbers. I’d never tell him this to his face, but there’s no one else in TREX that can do what he can. He says the numbers talk to him, tell him a story, and take him on a journey. It sounds like he’s off his rocker if you ask me, but he finds the money when no one else can. He’ll find the money, Bree. He always does.”

  “What about the person trying to ki
ll me?”

  “I don’t think the two are mutually exclusive.”

  That caught her attention. She lifted her head and met his gaze through the rearview mirror. It did seem like more than a coincidence the two happened around the same time. “That means whoever hired the contract killer…”

  “Used the money to pay for the hit.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  Rand accepted the coffee Jason offered, grateful for something other than the water they’d been drinking. He needed the caffeine to keep his mind sharp. He didn’t like the direction this find had taken. It hit too close to home, reminded him too much of a find gone bad four years ago. He’d nearly lost the woman he protected like family as well as the TREX SAC she now called her husband and father of her children.

  No way would he let a tango get anywhere near Bree Harrington. She reminded him of Kat. Physically they couldn’t be more different. Kat, tall and lean, with her pale skin, baby blue eyes, and a fiery red mane. Her take-no-shit attitude went perfectly with the hair. She acted first and apologized later, and didn’t care who she pissed off in the process. He admired few women more than he admired his boss on searches.

  Until he met Bree. Petite, wild black curls and bronzed skin that went with her Ecuadorian heritage, smoky gray eyes that always seemed to be on alert. She assessed before she acted and never had reason to apologize.

  The one thing they had in common? Well, aside from the driving ambition to be the best at what they did, they were both blinded by insecurity. What caused a person so strong and independent to have such self-doubt? Rand would never understand, not that he wanted to.

  Uncertainty in any action was the difference between remaining breathing and food for worms. As a SEAL, he’d been relieved of any self-doubt during the years of grueling training that had molded him into the hard-bodied, cold-blooded man he was today. There was no room for self-doubt. Even a millisecond second-guess could potentially lose lives.