“A different direction. Something new.” Maybe making a difference instead of a profit.
“The next thing you’ll tell me is you’re ready to settle down and start a family. Or get a dog.” She threw her hands up.
“I’m not getting a family or a dog. I have you and Teague. That’s more than enough.”
She pushed out of the chair. “Come on. If I’m rewriting this offer, I want to see the property again.”
“I don’t have time.” I motioned to the piles scattered around the surface of my desk.
“Then I don’t have time to revise the contract.” She shrugged and headed across the plush carpet to the door.
I rolled my chair back. “Wait up.”
She grinned as I grabbed my jacket. “You’re buying lunch.”
“You’re too quiet.”
Beau walked in step beside me as the realtor rambled on about the features of the building. She hadn’t said a word since we’d introduced ourselves to the woman.
“You wouldn’t want to hear it.” She raked her eyes over the decrepit space.
“We’re here so you can share your thoughts.”
She gave the realtor a false smile. “Can you give us a few minutes?”
The woman nodded and scurried away.
Beau pushed on the wall and it gave a little. “This is not a good buy, Lincoln.” Before I could protest, she held up her hand. “We’ve made a killing off some properties that look worse than this, but they want a premium and there’s no wiggle room for error here.”
“We have materials left from a project in Brooklyn we just wrapped up—”
“This isn’t Brooklyn. And even so, that isn’t enough.” She pressed the ball of her foot into the hardwood flooring . . . at least what used to be hardwood.
“Anything we purchase now is going to be at a premium.” I put my hands in my pockets.
She groaned. “Don’t give me that move. I already know you’ve made up your mind.”
I never realized placing my hands in the pockets of my trousers was a tell. Or that my sister paid that close attention to detail about me.
“I’m not using company money.”
“That doesn’t mean I want to let you make a personal mistake even if your bank account will barely notice this one.” She roved the space and threw her hands up. “It’s worse this time than the first time we viewed the building.”
At least she’d given it serious consideration. I couldn’t ask for more than that.
“Over lunch, let’s put together a cost proposal.”
Her features morphed from disgust to interest. “If you insist on proving I’m right with concrete numbers, suits me.”
She tucked her hand in the crook of my arm.
“They’re estimates,” I said as we left the vacant apartment. The size truly wasn’t bad, especially given the time period they were built in. We could knock down a wall, combine two units, and have a final product that would be desirable . . . and maybe affordable.
“Thank you for the tour.” Beau didn’t stop as she spoke to the realtor, who was waiting for us in the hall.
“We’ve only looked at two floors,” she protested.
“And we’ve seen enough. Thank you again.”
Beau had a graciousness I never would, yet could be firm when necessary. She’d gotten the finesse from our mother. I wasn’t sure if the no-nonsense was hereditary from our father or simply from dealing with him for so long.
“I’d like—”
“To think things over,” Beau finished for me.
I gave her a cutting look, which was useless. I’d wanted to make an offer, and she knew it. Judging by the way her nails dug into my arm and she practically dragged me down the stairs, she disapproved.
“Don’t look so eager. You’ve already looked at this place twice,” she hissed.
An older woman emerged from one of the apartments. Her skin was leathered and her clothes were worn yet kempt. There was a floral wreath on her door that brightened the dingy space.
“Grandma, can we have chicken nuggets for supper?” A little girl with pigtails held the woman’s hand.
“You had that last night, child. If you eat any more chicken, I'll be plucking feathers from you.”
I stifled a laugh. The girl looked horrified as she glanced at her arm to see if there were indeed feathers growing from it.
“If I eat any more green beans, I’m going to turn into one,” she said when she was satisfied there were no feathers on her skin.
I clamped my lips together to hold in the ever-threatening laugh. What was wrong with me? This effect had to be Lexie.
Would she approve of my desire for this property? For what I hoped to make it?
My urge to laugh quickly dissipated. To make renovations, we’d have to displace this woman and her grandchild. Typically when developers like me purchased a property, the tenants didn’t come back because the product we’d made was too expensive.
Where would they go?
“You coming, Linocln?” Beau tugged on my arm.
“Make these numbers work,” I said as soon as we were out of the building.
“Does it matter if I do or not?” she challenged.
“No.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” she muttered as she picked up her pace. “Let’s check out the neighborhood. Maybe we’ll find a good local spot to eat.”
I looked at her shoes incredulously but knew better than to say anything about her walking any distance in them. That was a battle that wasn’t worth fighting.
Her head bobbed as she took in the area. “It’s not . . . ideal.” The statement wasn’t made in judgment. My sister simply spoke what she observed. And it was the truth.
The neighborhood was rundown. Graffiti adorned many of the buildings. I paused to look at one particularly intricate mural. It had the markings of renowned spray-paint artist Brody James. Those were the kind of things that gave a neighborhood character, an identity. Something to embrace instead of remove.
“Can something be made better if hardly anyone involved cares?”
Beau cocked her head and looked at me strangely. “As long as one person does, yes, something can be better.”
In her tone was a what are we talking about that I didn’t want to answer. Change could be good if one kept the best of the old, couldn’t it?
I didn’t know much about change. Most of the time when it happened in my life, it wasn’t initiated by me. I was rooted in my ways. That steadiness was what I wanted, though lately my world order was in complete disarray.
“I’m surprised you agreed to be alone with me for this long,” Beau said, shaking me from my observations.
“I enjoy spending time with you.”
She blinked at me. Did she not know?
“I want to know every detail about what’s going on with the investigation.” That voice was one she’d definitely picked up from our father. She was playing hardball.
But I had plenty of experience in that arena too.
“There’s nothing to tell.”
She stopped and shook me. “The only reason you aren't behind bars right now is because of Dad.”
I scowled. “Thank you for the reminder.”
“What does he want for saving your ass?”
I checked our surroundings. “Could we discuss this somewhere more private?”
“No.” She put her hand on her hip. “Because when we get there, you’ll keep avoiding the issue.”
Damn it. My sister was a bulldog.
“I don’t know,” I said through my teeth.
“Well, you better find out before you end up in a jail cell for no reason.”
I appreciated her faith in me. She’d never consider I’d done anything to warrant an investigation.
“I meant I don’t know the price I’ll have to pay to Father.”
She linked her arm through mine in a show of support. “It’s going to be high.” Her voice was quiet and full of u
nderstanding in a way only she and Teague could.
“What can he want that I haven’t already given him?” I’d forced these thoughts away for days because I didn’t want to think about them. I only played games I could win. With our father, there was no winning.
I wasn’t sure about the odds in a federal investigation.
“I’ve never seen him make such an effort to keep something from public knowledge.” She stepped over a missing chunk of concrete on the sidewalk.
I had. But I didn’t want to think about that either. That familiar searing pain reserved only for my mother slashed through my chest.
“What about this place?” I wasn’t hungry, but I needed a break from this conversation.
Beau raised her eyes to the faded awning, then quickly perused a menu taped in the window. “I could go for a BLT.” She nudged me in the shoulder. “You used to make that for me.”
I held open the door for her. “I’m surprised you remember.”
“I’m surprised you never learned to cook anything else.” She flashed an evil grin as she slid into a booth near the back.
“You have no room to talk, dear sister.”
She pretended to buff her nails. “I don't have time to perfect my culinary skills while I’m conquering the world.”
“And you certainly have.”
Pride for the woman she’d become filled me. It couldn’t have been easy growing up in a house full of men. And even though she hadn’t known our mother all that well didn’t mean she couldn’t feel her loss.
Teague and I were the ultimate duo of overbearing and overprotective brothers. I didn’t care if Beau was ninety years old, that wasn’t going to change.
She ordered two bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches for us and tossed her menu on the table.
Her gaze was intense as she looked at me. “I’m worried about you.”
That concern was in every line around her eyes. I was supposed to be the one to keep her from worrying . . . not be the cause of her stress.
“Don’t.”
“Stop treating me like a little kid you can’t talk to.” Her worry quickly turned to anger.
“I can’t speak to you about matters I know nothing of.” I folded my hands on the linoleum tabletop.
“Why are you avoiding this? It’s not like you. You’re not afraid to face anything.”
I stared. Was that how she saw me? On one hand, I was glad. That’s what I wanted her to see. She had no idea that she and Teague were my biggest fears. That I was terrified something—or someone—might infringe on their happiness.
The waiter dropped off our sandwiches. Neither of us touched our food once he walked away. It was as if she were an eight-year-old again, holding her breath until she got what she wanted.
“I’m—”
She folded her arms over her chest and glared when that was all I could get out.
“It’s not as if I can walk into the FBI headquarters and ask to see their files on the investigation,” I finally said.
She made an unimpressed face. “I don’t see why not.”
If anyone would, it would be my sister.
“I’ll take care of this.”
“I don't believe you.” She tore off a bite of her BLT and retrieved her phone from her purse as she chewed. “If you won’t do something, I’ll find someone who will.” She jabbed at the phone screen. “I’m calling Daniel.”
Chapter Twelve
Lincoln
“I shouldn’t have to learn of your impending arrest from your sister.”
Daniel Elliott leaned back in the chair behind the desk of his home office. It reminded me of mine, though something about his was less cold. His entire apartment was less so. Was it because of Vivian?
“I didn’t realize I owed you a report.” I sat across from him, though I wanted to leave if this was the topic of conversation. “If you’d have told me over the phone this was what you wanted to discuss, you could've saved me the trip.”
Beau had wasted no time calling him after lunch and had escorted me to his building. I knew when I'd arrived that was the purpose of the visit, and while it made me uncomfortable to draw him into my issues, I felt obligated to make my sister happy.
Daniel drilled his sharp gaze into me. I rested my ankle on my knee.
“I’ve been through this.”
“I’m aware.”
“Don’t make the same mistakes I did.”
“You’re free, aren’t you?” It was callous to diminish the gravity of his situation, but I could solve my own problems. And while I appreciated everyone’s concern, I was so tired of the subject being shoved in my face.
“I made a call to one of my contacts at the bureau.”
I dropped my foot back to the floor and leaned forward. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
It was one thing to loan someone money or give them a place to stay, but completely another to get involved in a federal investigation. He and I both preferred to keep a low profile. If he made an inquiry, even if it was off the record, that could shift some focus to him. I didn’t want him tangled in my mess any more than I wanted Beau or Teague involved.
“If you’d have bothered to mention the investigation, we might have been able to save you the hassle in the first place.” Daniel was a difficult man to read most of the time, but I didn't miss the irritation in his tone.
"I didn't know about it,” I said with annoyance. “And even if I had, you have a life, a family.”
He scowled. “And an incredibly obtuse friend.”
Why couldn’t everyone accept I could solve my own problems?
I sighed. “I appreciate your concern—”
“Cut the shit, Hollingsworth.”
I gripped the armrests. “All right. Stay out of it,” I snapped.
“Not a chance in hell.”
We stared at one another in a clash of wills. He and I weren’t afraid to be honest, but we'd never spoken to each other in such a heated tone. Then again, we’d never meddled in the other’s affairs.
I just wanted to forget the entire incident. Everyone else seemed determined not to let that happen.
Perhaps I should be more grateful, and part of me was, but mostly I was bitter about the entire situation. I shouldn’t take it out on the people who were attempting to help me.
“The potential charges completely blindsided me.” That was difficult to admit. I prided myself on being aware.
“Can you think of any reason they’d use you to get to someone else?”
I snorted in disgust. “Such as my father?”
“Maybe.” He steepled his hands.
“I fail to see how arresting me gets to him.” I slumped, exhausted with the constant grilling.
“A scare tactic.”
“Is that how it's supposed to work?” If it was, that was ridiculous. “I couldn’t help them if that were the case. I know nothing of his dealings.”
He lifted a brow. “You run a company with him.”
“That doesn't mean he confides every detail to me.”
Daniel and I didn't discuss our family dynamic, though he was aware that all was not as it appeared. I referenced Beau and Teague frequently, yet hardly ever Samuel Hollingsworth.
“Think about the image portrayed to the public.”
That we were the perfect family. Father particularly emphasized that he and I were not only business partners, but had a close relationship. In some ways, it made things easier. People weren't interested in digging into things that seemed happy and normal. If they knew that I despised the man, they’d pry. That was the fodder for juicy gossip.
“Shouldn’t the FBI know that's not real?” Sarcasm dripped from my question.
“Could be that’s exactly why they think you’d be all too happy to spill all the dirty details on him.” He loosened his tie. “Securities fraud and tax evasion is a fairly vague charge. They could nail almost anyone with that if they pleased."
“Then how was he able to ke
ep me from being arrested? If they wanted him, he’d have no power.”
“Power is an illusion.”
I cocked my head. “Some people certainly make it look real.” My father was at the top of that list. Whether it was perceived or not, he certainly wielded plenty of power.
“My contact may need a few days to dig into the investigation. His cursory look is that it doesn’t exist.” Daniel picked up a pen and tapped the end of it on a folder.
“I had cuffs on my wrists. It exists.” I bristled at the reminder of the steel cutting into my skin. At the helplessness I’d felt locked in the back of that SUV. I’d only come close to that feeling one time before.
And just as she had that day, Lexie rescued me from those thoughts. The image of her purple dress flowing in the wind as she’d pretended to look for her van keys filled my head. Why had she helped me? How did her presence both irritate and excite me? Did she realize how beautiful she was?
Daniel cleared his throat, and the gesture was like a record scratch.
“I hated being locked up too,” he said quietly.
If anyone could sympathize with my situation, it was my best friend. We weren’t the sharing type of men. I understood what it had taken for him to admit that out loud.
“I don't intend to be in that position again,” I said with determination.
“I’m glad to hear you say that.” He leaned back in his chair. “It’s a smart move to accept my help.”
Something wound tight inside loosened. “I didn’t.”
“You have it whether you do or not.”
I stood and offered my hand. “You’re a pain in my ass.”
He pushed to his feet and gripped my hand. “Takes one to know one.”
I furrowed my brow. “Did you learn that expression from Vivian?”
“She may have said that to me once or twice.” A semblance of a smile graced his lips at the thought of his wife.
My phone chimed with a text.
Meet me. Now.
Whatever ease I'd felt a moment ago evaporated. “I’ll speak to you soon.”
“When I hear something, I’ll be in touch.” His stare hardened. “You aren't on your own with this.”
Rise: Rise & Fall Duet Book 1 (Shaken 3) Page 6