Fire in an Amber Sky

by Addison Moore

  “Yes,” I whisper, pulling him deeper, my nails raking over his back as he saws over me with pleasure. This is the sensation we’ve been missing, an intimacy much deeper than any oral fixation could lend us. I’ve needed him here, inside me, deep, piercing me to the diaphragm with his hearty blows. I don’t care if I can’t walk for a year. I need this man in this very beautiful way.

  His fingers sink into my arms, pressing tight as his body goes rigid and trembles over me. Lincoln shakes out into my body before collapsing on top of me, gasping for air just like the day he said he loved me.

  “You okay?” He lands a snapping loud kiss to my ear.

  “I’m perfect.” I wrap my arms around him and hold him like that until the chill comes from the window and ices our dewy skin.

  We take turns in the bathroom. I turn on the TV, and Lincoln flips open his laptop. It’s still hours from when we usually turn off the lights, and I’m guessing round two is just around the corner.

  “How you feeling?” He does that thing that Luke does, asking a question while unable to look away from his laptop.

  “I’m great.” I peer over at it, and the screen is washed in rows and rows of numbers and letters. “You hit a glitch?”

  He tilts his chin, shaking his head just barely. Lincoln is completely immersed.

  “Just something that I was working on earlier.”

  “Huh.” I glance back at it, my smooth bare thigh brushing up against his prickly one. “Running codes?” I glance at the binary pyramid that looks close to the patch the boys in the hive gave to fix my app. “Oh, it’s a patch.” I roll over and stare at him upside down, my fingers scratching at his stubble.

  “It’s a patch.” His ruby lips churn as if trying to understand this. “Yup. Just running a few patches.” He snaps his laptop shut, losing his gaze off the edge of the bed.

  “Jinx or Merlin?” I lean in and plant a hard kiss over his chest.

  “Both.” He tosses his laptop to the side and pulls me over him.

  Lincoln and I make love again, wild and thrashing as if it were our very last time. We laugh into one another’s mouths when we finish, whispering our I love yous long into the night.

  The way his body connects with mine is intoxicating.

  We are the perfect fit.

  * * *

  The next morning, I have a spring in my step, and a harmless piece of knowledge about Lincoln that’s going to garner me a small but spectacular fortune—enough to get my own place if I wanted. A patch. Lincoln works on saving companies in his spare time coding patches. I should buy him a cape. I hope my uncles are ashamed of themselves after discovering he’s practically a hero. Hell, my vagina knows he is. There isn’t a hint of distress in my nether-regions today, and I plan on kissing Lincoln’s feet, literally, for that tonight.

  The thought of me eventually moving out of Kinsley’s bungalow makes me woozy. Lincoln still hasn’t mentioned anything about the Riviera, so it makes me wonder if Luke was just bullshitting me the whole time.

  I bypass Luke with a slight frown, not bothering to say hello and rouse him from his laptop. Instead, I strum my walnut brown fingernails over the counter and ask Cash’s secretary to let him know I’m here. I sent a text to both him and Carson before I left, letting them know I have what they asked for. I can just picture the two of them reclining in their expensive leather chairs, sharing smarmy smiles, flicking their greedy fingers at me with hot anticipation.

  She motions me inside, and I find Carson leaning over Cash’s laptop as intensely as Luke does—as Lincoln did last night.

  “Morning,” I say brightly. They hardly afford a glance in my direction. Slowly, they pull away, their release from the screen met with a mutual glance at one another before they snap to.

  “Morning,” they say in unison, lacking the usual enthusiasm.

  Cash points to the seat in front of him, and I happily take it.

  “So, what’s this news?” He looks disgruntled, unavailable to both my news and me.

  “You said you wanted something on Lincoln, and I’ve got it. All night and all day, whenever he has a free moment, he’s working on patches for your crappy software, so the two of you can relax. He is one of the good guys.” Okay, so I might have seasoned the truth with a sprinkling of exaggeration, but it’s most likely true anyway. Lincoln is devoted to making both Merlin and Jinx the best they can be. And he should since he has a stake in both companies.

  Cash and Carter look to one another again, but this time their long faces relax with amusement.

  “You thinking what I’m thinking?” Cash asks his brother as if I wasn’t even in the room.

  Carson agrees as if it were obvious. “Okay.” He turns to me. “I’ll deposit a check in your account tonight.” He gives his Cannon smile, the deep dimpled one that traps women in its divots. When I was little, I used to think I would marry one of my uncles some day. It seemed marriage, the idea of it, the ideal of it has always been on my mind in some capacity. And when my father left my mother and me, it felt as if that strong as iron dream I held on to was suddenly as weak as paper. I wish I could say I was terribly surprised, shocked even that Bradley was planning his exit. The truth is, I expected it on some level. Just not so soon before the wedding. Men leave. Hearts get broken.

  I swallow hard and clear my throat.

  “Any news on that girl I asked about?” My face heats with shame that I even broached the subject with my uncles. How very insecure I must have looked asking them to research an old girlfriend of the man I’m sleeping with. How childlike.

  Cash blows out a breath. “Do you know anything about this girl?” He tips his head in a severe tilt as if this were concerning.

  “Nothing. Just her name.” I can still see the scar she left over Lincoln’s heart, but I don’t dare give them an ounce of fresh ammunition. “Anyway, never mind it. He’s with me now. No use in digging up a corpse of a relationship.” I get up and catch the two of them exchanging glances once again. “You know something.”

  Cash shakes his head, denying it. “We’re close, though. Once we get it together, we’ll fill you in.” He waits until I hit the door to call out, “Be careful.”

  The two of them stare me down with heavy concern as if I were about to don a spacesuit and shoot into the atmosphere.

  This is Lincoln. The man who loves me. It’s just going to take some getting used to on their part, that’s all.

  Lincoln Lionheart is the last person I need to be careful with.

  Lincoln

  There have been times I’ve been resentful of my father’s money, like when it drew strange women to his bed and he was unable to resist thus breaking my mother’s heart, shattering our nuclear family to pieces that I’ve spent years trying to reconstruct. And then, there are times I have thanked God, kissed the back of my over-bloated money clip in deep appreciation of its ability to garner me the best attorney, pay off the necessary people to ensure my ass never went to jail for any of the stupid shit I pulled—possession, driving with a suspended license—paying off family members of the deceased. With enough money, you can make someone say just about anything. And by the same token, you can keep the same people quiet. Finding the happy number that ends with many zeros is the key to getting what you want.

  I glance through my emails, three from Neta Deforio, my realtor. I’ve been ignoring her, ignoring the fact I’ve already nailed down which home in the Riviera I’d like to make my own—to make both Macy’s and mine. I think it’s the next logical step for the two of us. A home of our own. I call Neta and leave her a message.

  “I’ll take the beach house on Arrowroot Drive.” My sisters came with me and inspected every inch of that beachfront property. “Give the sellers what they want—all cash, full asking price, and, if that’s not enough, give them more. Do whatever necessary to make this happen. Text me. Keep me updated.” I hang up, relieved, a swell of satisfaction blooming in my chest. I’ll surprise Macy with it. If she hates it, we’l
l renovate it and then flip it. Hell, maybe I should have taken her to look at it. I rub my eyes raw for a moment. It seems I’m forever getting this relationship stuff wrong, but, then again, she’s practically the first woman I’ve been with for any length of time. I’m hoping she’ll cut me some slack.

  I head over to Merlin, into the long, dark chocolate bar of a boardroom and take a seat across from the snake who calls himself my brother. Kinsley and Aspen flank him, while Stevie moves to garner a seat next to me.

  “What’s this about?” she whispers out of the side of her mouth like a ventriloquist. “It sounded dire. Everything okay with our father?”

  My sisters rarely call him Dad, with the exception of Kinsley, who still slips out the occasional Daddy. And every time I hear Aspen or Stevie use the words our father, I expect them to burst into prayer.

  “Shit if I know,” I whisper.

  Stevie’s mouth falls open with shock. “It scares me that you don’t know.”

  Exactly how I feel, but I’m not about to level my fear out onto the table, not with a Wolff staring me down from the other side.

  The meeting rumbles to order as the secretary reads the minutes from the last think tank balls-buster. Merlin’s meetings are so archaic they reek of 1950s charm and naiveté. My father walks into the room, late, with his eyes peeled to a ream of paper, thick as a book, still dutifully connected at the perforations from his dot matrix printer. The holes running up and down its borders send half of the room tittering. They are mocking you, I want to shout. Your dated way of doing things is exemplified in the very object you hold in your hands.

  I’ve tried to get him to update the equipment in his office, but he insists that replacing working shit is a financial misstep of the simpleminded. If it works, he doesn’t need to fix it. Hans Lionheart is slow on change. Thankfully, he’s aggressive. It’s the one thing that has always kept our pockets lined with legal tender.

  “Listen up,” he barks without moving his eyes from whatever has his attention locked to the page. “Even though our many applications are performing above and beyond in customer satisfaction, it has been brought to my attention that a handful of leaks are springing up throughout our catalog.” His eyes skirt the rim of his glasses as he gives a scrutinizing glance, an accusing glance at the warm bodies taking up space in the room. “Someone—who is working outside of this company has been graciously repairing these errors. And by repairing, I mean underselling our own patches.”

  I cut a glance to Luke who manages to look as deeply concerned and confused as my sisters. Fucker.

  “The codes weren’t always leaking. Someone went in and added weak spots and called it an update. These are new, which has led to the next disaster—investors are backing out of deals, retailers are pulling our products. Our software has turned to shit overnight. I need each of you to get back to work and help figure a way out of this mess.” He motions to the door. “Go on now.” The room clears as heads of management scurry out like ants terrorized by a giant.

  Stevie starts to rise, and I hold up a finger, landing her back into her seat.

  “What is this?” My father slaps the fat stack of papers onto the table. “I’ve worked my entire life to build this company just to have some bastard come in and steal it away from me? I won’t have it.”

  Luke meets my heavy glare and nods as if asking what I was so ticked off about.

  “I agree,” I say without taking my eyes off him. “Why don’t you let Luke and me do some digging? I’m sure between the two of us, we’ll nail the bastard who’s responsible for this.”

  “Very well. Keep me posted. If anyone can split this atom, it’s my boys.” He leaves, but his stale words swim around the room like ghosts.

  His boys? My muscles are aching to pick up a chair and splinter it to pieces. If only he knew what his newest boy was up to.

  “That’s commendable.” Stevie pats me on the hand. “I’m so impressed to see you willing to overlook petty grievances for the sake of the company.”

  “Me, too.” Aspen stands, cradling her stomach. “I need water and a bathroom, not necessarily in that order.”

  Kinsley and Stevie hop up and help shuttle Aspen out of the room until it’s just that massive asshole and me taking up space.

  “You ready to help me shut down the fucker doing this?” Now, it’s me with the shit-eating grin.

  He tips his head back, his eyes squared over mine. “I’m ready.”

  * * *

  Afternoon turns into evening, and Luke isn’t flinching. I’ve tracked his codes all the way to some start-up he’s developed—“the bastards” as we’ve been addressing him.

  Stevie sends a group text asking us to get the hell down to Jinx. I already know what the meeting is regarding. Second verse, same as the first.

  Sure enough, we sit through a half hour of Ford relaying the same damn thing, albeit to a much smaller room, sans the dot matrix humiliation. This time it’s Macy by my side, her beautiful leafy green eyes heavy with concern.

  “What’s the big deal?” Macy looks to me nervously. “Who cares about a few leaks that can be fixed?”

  Cash grunts. “Someone deliberately set out to find any and everything wrong with our system’s software. It’s our bread and butter, and now that they coded all of our shit—from the inside”—he storms me with a razor sharp look of hatred—“they’re able to create their own software, using our legs to stand on. In other words, we’ll be yesterday’s news, and so will about ten thousand jobs.”

  “Shit,” Macy hisses in a panic. Her eyes drag to mine in disbelief.

  “The bastards are doing it to Merlin, too.” I’m quick to assure her it wasn’t me. “In fact, they think it’s an inside job in both companies.” I nod knowingly toward my brother and fight hard not to laugh as that arrogant smirk slides off his face.

  “You can’t pin it on me.” He holds up his hands. “Macy and I have been working nonstop on our apps. In fact, ReInvent launched well—more than well. I think Macy, here, has a winner on her hands.”

  Exasperated, Ford depresses those divots in his cheeks. “I hope you’ve got a few more of those in your wheelhouse, because we’re going to need them to weather this storm. Whoever did this has a grade A ax to grind, and they’ve been sharpening the blade for quite some time.”

  Someone with an ax to grind. I glare at my latest, not-so-greatest sibling to pop out of the woodwork. He has a grade A ax to grind, not with Merlin, not with its holding, Jinx. It’s with Hans Lionheart the Antiquated. My father and his threadbare security allowed this nightmare to happen. I think I need to step in and take drastic measures to ensure that both of my companies, Merlin and Jinx, can stand up to the bastard seated across from me.

  “We’ll weather this storm,” I say, my vacant, hateful stare aimed straight at my brother.

  I’ve had one ace in my back pocket for a few years now, never eager to use it, never thought I’d have to.

  I get up and drop a kiss over Macy’s head before taking off.

  It’s time to see a lawyer about a large purchase I’m about to make in the very near future.

  It’s time to put a stop to this asshole’s runaway resentment before thousands of lives are changed as stocks start to plummet.

  It’s time for the lion to eat the wolf.

  A World Away

  Macy

  Oak Valley is about as metropolitan as a pumpkin patch. In fact, embarrassingly enough, those orange globes have been strewn about the landscape for the last half hour like an entire population of severed heads. Finally, and to no relief, I see the massive letter M sealed over the front gate as we head toward Morgenstern Ranch. It’s Thanksgiving—my mother’s birthday as well, but I wish to God I never let Lincoln talk me into coming here.

  “It’s still here,” I say mostly to myself as Lincoln drives us up to the house, parking his expensive midnight black Maserati in a dirt patch near the yard. Old Me demands I apologize, but New Me says, This is what he g
ets for insisting I come back here.

  Mom comes outside, wiping her hands on her apron, her hair shorter than it was last summer, tears already streaming down her face.

  “Baby!”

  I get out and catch her meaty embrace, her hair and skin holding the thick scent of turkey.

  “God, I missed you.” She sobs silently into my hair. I’ve been gone for long stretches before—my time at camp, my brief stint at Lemons University. It all seems like another era in my life, not simply a few short months ago.

  “Missed you, too. Happy birthday.” I give her a hard rocking squeeze. “You look beautiful,” I say, brushing back her dark Cannon hair. “Let’s not wait so long to see each other again.”

  “I know. And I know you needed your space.” She holds my cheeks with both hands, her watery eyes a match to my own.

  “Mom, this is Lincoln.” I pull him in. Lincoln looks heavily displaced against the backdrop of the country, a polished gem gleaming among a pile of old stones. He gives a hint of a wicked smile, and my heart slaps against my chest. He’s always looked a touch cowboy to me, can’t quite put my finger on why. Most likely because I think he’d look hotter than hell in a pair of worn leather boots.

  “Nice to meet you. Happy birthday.” He offers a polite handshake, but Mom reels him in like a fish.

  “Oh, hon, Macy’s had such nice things to say about you. You’re getting a hug.” She does just that. She tosses a cheesy thumbs-up at me from behind his back. I know for a fact she approves, because for one, Lincoln has more money than Bradley’s entire family could hope to amass in ten lifetimes. My mother has never made her quenching thirst for wealth a secret. Why start now?

  “Everyone here?” I take a deep breath. Of course, Leah is here. Leah lives here when she’s not at school. Leah is the leech that has singlehandedly destroyed all holidays and family get-togethers from here until eternity. As long as she’s a part of this family, I’m doomed to dread every single one.