Rich: Benson Security 5

by Janet Elizabeth Henderson

  Boy? Hell no. Harvard lost all sense of amusement. “You call me a boy one more time, and I’ll escort you from the building. Through that window. This isn’t some plantation, and you sure as hell aren’t my white overlord. I’m sick of your racist shit, so do me a favor and keep talking, because I would seriously love to make you stop.”

  Charles’ normally ruddy face paled as he shrank in on himself. His bluster disappeared as he obviously read correctly that Harvard wasn’t joking.

  “Everybody, calm down,” Jonathan ordered. “The police will be here soon, and they’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  “This what? This preposterous lie against Preston?” Theo snapped. “You’ve made a mistake. Go over it all again because my son wouldn’t do something like this. Tell them, Preston. Tell them they’re wrong.” He appealed to Rachel, “Why on earth would my son steal from the company? This makes no sense.”

  Preston barked out a mirthless laugh that had all eyes focusing on him. “Do shut up, Father. You’re making everything worse just by being here. Can’t you tell when you aren’t wanted? None of us…” He waved a hand to indicate his mother, stepmother, and brother. “None of us wants you. You’re an embarrassment to us all and have been for years.”

  Theo’s jaw dropped before he gathered himself. “You don’t know what you’re saying. It’s shock from being so heinously accused. Don’t worry, son, I’ll look out for you.”

  “You’ll look out for me?” Preston laughed hard.

  It was cold and filled with bitter anger. Harvard had heard that laughter before and knew it only manifested in people who were broken. His eyes scanned the room, and he unobtrusively signaled to his team not to interrupt, but to stay quiet and watch.

  “You’ll look out for me?” Preston soared to his feet and leaned over the table toward his father. “The way you looked out for us when you walked out on our mother? The way you’ve walked out on every family you’ve had since then, so you could follow your dick all over London? Please, you can’t even look out for yourself, let alone anyone else.” He slammed his palms on the table, making several people jump.

  Stephanie put her arm around Anne, who watched in horror as her son raged at his father.

  “You’re the reason this happened,” Preston spat out. “You keep diluting the share base. Every child you have means more people on this board. Less profit for everyone involved. More stupid voices to listen to as they expound their inane opinions about a company that’s nothing more than a meal ticket to them.”

  He slapped the table again. “You’ve diluted our heritage. Because of you splitting your shares with every divorce, our family’s position on this board was weakened.” He swung to Jonathan. “That seat is mine. I’m the eldest. I’m the one with the most experience. I should have been CEO. But no, you get to sit in the seat because your father managed to get his hands on the majority share of the company. A company that wasn’t even his. It was ours, damn it.”

  He glared at his father. “So, yes, because you frittered away my heritage with your stupidity and inability to keep your dick in your pants, I took it back.” He stood up straight and tugged down his suit jacket, fixing Jonathan with a suddenly calm and intelligent look. “You can’t steal what you already own. As a shareholder in this company, the research belongs to me as well as everyone sitting at this table. It doesn’t matter how much evidence you think you have. Because you cannot steal what you already own.”

  Anne sobbed quietly as the shock of Preston’s confession sank in. Theo just sat there, pale and unmoving, as though disconnected from everything that was happening.

  “You did it then?” Marcus asked his brother, sounding pained. “You stole from TayFor?”

  Preston ignored his brother while he tugged at the cuffs of his shirt and fixed his tie. “I would like to call my lawyer now,” he calmly told Harvard.

  “The police are waiting in reception,” Harvard said. “Ryan will escort you to them and accompany you to the station. You can meet with your lawyer there.”

  Preston nodded and strode toward the door, hesitating briefly when he opened it. “Think about who the real villain is here. Me for taking what I rightfully own? Or the Ford family for taking our heritage from the rest of us.”

  As the door closed behind them, silence fell over the room; all that could be heard was Anne’s quiet sobbing. Until Charles cleared his throat. “He has a point. I mean, I don’t agree with the stealing. He wasn’t just taking what was his; he was taking from all of us. But he has a point about this company having been infiltrated by outsiders.”

  “Charles,” Jonathan said evenly, “you’re fired. Clear out your desk and hand in your security pass. I’ve already spent far too many years listening to your bigoted bullshit. I don’t want to waste any more of my life on it.”

  “You can’t fire me,” he shouted. “I’m a shareholder.”

  “Actually,” Rachel said, “being a shareholder doesn’t automatically guarantee you a position with the company. Employment is at the discretion of the management. I should know; I helped Father draft the regulations.”

  “You always were an interfering little hussy,” Charles told her as he got up and stormed toward the door. “I’ll see you and your inbred family in court.”

  “Oh, to hell with it,” Harvard said as the man approached him. He pulled back his fist and let rip.

  Charles landed on the floor with a bloody nose and a spiteful glint in his eye. “I’ll add assault to my litigation, shall I?”

  “You’d need a witness for that to stand,” Jonathan said. “I saw you run into Harvard’s fist. I didn’t see him punch you. Anyone else?” He looked around the table, his expression making it very clear that whatever answer the rest of them gave would determine what side they were on.

  “Didn’t see a thing,” Marcus said, and others agreed.

  Charles got to his feet. “Samantha? Rupert? Tell them what you saw.” It was an order given by a man used to intimidating his family.

  “I was looking at my phone,” Samantha said. “Sorry, Daddy.” She didn’t look sorry. In fact, she didn’t appear bothered at all.

  Charles turned to Rupert.

  “I saw you get what you deserved,” Rupert said. “And don’t worry. I’m okay with being disowned.”

  With pure fury, Charles strode from the room. Followed closely by Anne, who was still crying, and Stephanie, who was comforting her.

  Theo blinked several times but couldn’t look anyone in the eye. “I, uh, better go to the police station and see if there’s anything I can do,” he said before he left too.

  “Marcus,” Jonathan said, “if you want to go, I understand.”

  Marcus shook his head. “There’s nothing I can do there. I’ll see out the day, and then I’m going to find the biggest bottle of whiskey I can get my hands on and ask it what the hell happened with my brother.”

  Jonathan nodded. “Well,” he said to the remaining board members, “it would seem we’re a few short. With Charles and Preston gone, the management team will be stretched.” He turned to Rachel, his face softening in apology. “Can you please stay on until we get this sorted?”

  “Oh, come on,” Rachel said. “That could take months.”

  “I know, but seriously, who else can I ask? Father’s in no condition to come back to work. And no one knows the business like you. Even when you weren’t here, you spent hours going over Father’s reports with him, discussing tactics, formulating policy. No one else could step in and be up and running as quickly.” He glanced over at Harvard. “And you’d be welcome as head of security. Until we sort that problem too.”

  Harvard shrugged. He didn’t care where he went as long as it kept him with Rachel. “That’s up to Rachel. Where she goes, I go.”

  “Oh, for the love of Gucci,” Rachel snapped. “You don’t need to stay by my side now that the job’s over. Go play with the other boys. I’m sure Callum has someone he needs shooting.”

  Samanth
a stared between him and Rachel. “The wedding is still on though, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Harvard said at the same time as Rachel said, “No.”

  “Thanks for clearing that up,” Samantha mumbled before raising her voice. “Until you figure it out, I’ll just carry on planning. Which means”—she pointed at Rachel—“you don’t get out of visiting that bridal boutique.”

  “Rachel?” Jonathan said. “What will it be? I don’t mean to pressure you, but I need you. Without Preston, I’ll have to take on our legal work. I could do with another pair of hands to help run things. We could share the CEO role until we figure everything out.”

  “She’ll do it,” their grandmother said.

  “Gran!” Rachel snapped.

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake, we both know you’ll give in. You might act like a right little witch, but underneath, somewhere, you have a heart of gold. And you’d never leave your brother in the lurch.”

  Rachel just glared at her while Jonathan tried not to grin.

  “Um.” Rupert put up his hand, as though asking a question in school. “Are we carrying on with the meeting? Or are we too traumatized? Because I have some ideas about distribution that I’d like to run past everybody.”

  There was a moment where everyone just looked at Rupert, and then, as a group, they stood and made their way out of the room.

  Harvard snagged Rachel in the hallway by wrapping an arm around her waist. “One down,” he said. “One to go.” Meaning they could now concentrate on her blackmailer.

  “Don’t talk to me,” she said in that icy tone that made him crazy to touch her. “Not unless it’s to admit that this engagement is a farce.”

  “Don’t say engagement,” her mother snapped as she passed. “It’s common.”

  “I truly hate my family,” Rachel complained before heading to her office.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  When they got back to Rachel’s apartment building, there was a package waiting for them at the concierge’s desk.

  “Did you order something?” Harvard asked as he reached around her and took the small brown padded envelope from the doorman, being careful to touch only its corners.

  “Not that I remember,” Rachel said coolly, but the look in her eye told him she was thinking the same as him—the blackmailer had sent it.

  Harvard checked both sides of the envelope. “It only has your name on it. No address. No return information.” He looked at the waiting doorman. “Who dropped it off?”

  “A courier company.” The man pulled a notepad toward him. “Atlantic Couriers.” He ripped off the top sheet of paper and handed it to Harvard. “The phone number’s on there. Ms. Ford-Talbot has never received a package without a return address, so I thought it best to note down all the details of the delivery. Just in case.”

  Harvard was impressed. “Good thinking.”

  The man merely nodded. “We have several wealthy, high-profile residents in this building. Security’s good, thanks to your company, but it doesn’t cover deliveries. That’s why I never send anything up to the apartments unless I’m sure about it.”

  Harvard hoped to hell this guy was being paid well because, in that one sentence, he’d proved he was worth every cent.

  “Thank you, Jeremiah,” Rachel said. “As usual, I very much appreciate your vigilance.”

  They nodded to the concierge, then headed for the elevator.

  As the doors closed behind them, Harvard said, “I hope he gets a hefty bonus come Christmas.”

  “Jeremiah’s very well paid. And yes, he gets several bonuses a year. If one wants good staff, one must treat them well.”

  “Yes.” He grinned. “One must.”

  She glanced down at the envelope. “You think it’s from the blackmailer, don’t you?” If she was worried, it didn’t show.

  “Yeah,” Harvard said as they stepped out into her hallway. “Which means they know where you live.”

  “Anyone with access to TayFor’s personnel files would know where I live.”

  In other words, it didn’t mean the blackmailer was someone close to her.

  Once securely inside her apartment, Harvard put the envelope on the dining table before sending texts to Ryan, Elle, and Harry. “I’ve asked the team to come straight over. We’ll wait until they get here before we open this.”

  He looked up from his phone to find Rachel staring at the envelope. She’d taken off her jacket and had her arms folded over the severe, black form-fitting dress she’d chosen for work that day.

  “I’d rather not wait.” Her dark eyes captured his, communicating far more than the unemotional tone of her voice. Telling him just how wary she really was. “If there are more photos in there, I’d rather deal with seeing them without my colleagues watching me.”

  Harvard ran a hand over the dome of his head. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

  She stared at him for a long minute before she said just one word, “Please.”

  He hung his head, knowing there was no way he’d refuse her this. “Okay. I need scissors or a knife and a pair of latex gloves.”

  “Why on earth would I have latex gloves lying around?”

  Yeah, for a second, he’d forgotten who he was dealing with. “You’ve got kitchen scissors though, right?”

  “How would I know?” She threw her hands in the air as if exasperated by his very normal questions. “You’re the one who cooks. I can tell you where the bottle opener is, but I don’t remember seeing scissors.”

  With a shake of his head, he strode to the knife block by the vast built-in cutting board. Sure enough, there were scissors. He held them up.

  Rachel looked unimpressed. “My interior designer bought that block, along with everything else in the kitchen. I’ve never used it.”

  “When this is over, I’m teaching you to cook.” Harvard grabbed two tissues from the box near the sink on his way back to the table.

  The look of horror on Rachel’s face was priceless. “Why on earth would I want to do that?”

  “So you don’t starve to death if the Savoy stops delivering?”

  “But wouldn’t you cook for me?”

  Harvard almost tripped over his own feet. It was the first time she’d even hinted that they might have a future together, and apparently it was one where she expected him to cook.

  “Yeah,” he said, his voice softening. “I’ll make sure you’re well-fed.”

  She stuck her chin in the air. “See? No need for lessons. Now, let’s get this over with before the hordes arrive.”

  Holding the envelope with a tissue, to preserve any prints that might still be on it, Harvard sliced across the top before turning it upside down and emptying its contents onto the table.

  A thumb drive fell out.

  “No photos,” Rachel murmured. “Unless they’ve gone digital. Do you think that’s what they’ve done? Scanned the photos so they can keep them, instead of giving them to me? I mean, they must have a limited supply. They are Polaroids after all.”

  “Don’t know,” Harvard said, but that bad feeling that had saved his life on several occasions was back and blaring at him to abort. “Maybe we should leave this until Elle gets here. She can plug it into something that won’t be destroyed if it’s infected.”

  “Michael.” The way she said his name made his chest tighten. It was intimate. Personal. Just for the two of them. “I know you’re trying to protect me, but I have to see what’s on there when there’s no one around to witness my reaction.”

  “Rachel, I’m here.”

  For a second, she seemed confused. “But you don’t count.”

  The magnitude of that simple statement stole his ability to breathe. Because it meant she trusted him enough to let him see her vulnerable. To Rachel, he was an insider. Possibly the only one she had.

  What a helluva time to discover she’d let him get that close.

  With a curse, he rubbed a hand down his face
and gave her what she wanted. What she needed. “Okay, we’ll do it your way. But we’ll plug the drive into your TV first, that way it can’t corrupt your computer. If there are photos on there, we’ll be able to see them on the screen anyway, and if there are documents, we’ll know if the files are malicious based on how the TV reacts. If it infects your TV, then I think it’s safe to say, we shouldn’t plug it into a computer without Elle being here to fix anything that goes wrong.” It was the best he could do. The smallest measure of protection. That, and the fact he would be at her side.

  “That sounds reasonable.” Rachel turned toward the living room.

  Harvard used a tissue to pick up the thumb drive before following her. “I’m not sure this is the wisest decision,” he said as she picked up the remote and aimed it at the painting over the fireplace.

  “Duly noted,” she said, as the painting slid up into the ceiling to reveal a large screen TV.

  Harvard went straight to the TV and positioned the USB at the port. “You sure?”

  “Yes. Now hurry up, or the others will get here before I’ve had a chance to see what’s on it.”

  There was nothing else he could do to stall or talk some sense into her, so he pushed the drive into the port. For a second, nothing happened, and then a message appeared on the screen. White text on a plain black background.

  Resign Tomorrow.

  He glanced at Rachel, who looked about as bewildered as he felt.

  “They could have written that on a Post-it Note,” she said.

  “Here, gimme the remote.” Harvard crossed the room to her, his back to the TV, and his gaze on her face.

  And he saw the instant everything changed.

  The color drained from Rachel’s face as she whispered, “No.” She swayed as if about to topple, her eyes widening with shock. And then the sound kicked in, and a voice moaned, “No, please, no.”

  He spun to see a much younger Rachel on the screen. Two men stood over her, neither of their faces in shot. As a low groan sounded behind him, he spun back to his Rachel, who stood frozen in place, staring in horror at the TV while clutching the damn remote to her stomach.