by Kahlen Aymes
Alex was so furious; it was all he could do to contain his anger. He was helpless in Australia, so he had to finish his business and get the fuck on a plane. The head of the Australian office sat across from him in the limousine on the way to the Sydney airport as Alex gave the contract a quick once-over, signed it, and left it with her for the other party to sign. He didn’t like to leave his deals open-ended, but in this case, there was no choice. Anxiety made him nauseous and his skin burn, his thoughts taunting that he shouldn’t have left Chicago with this shit up in the air. He’d known it when he’d boarded the goddamned plane at O’Hare, and now, he felt like a caged animal.
His demeanor was pensive, and he didn’t talk to the woman other than brief responses to her questions. He yanked at his tie to loosen it. “Please, send someone to the hotel to get my things and ship them to the office in Chicago,” Alex instructed, reaching into his suit jacket for the key card to his room and handed it to the woman. “Room 1215.”
“Thank you for coming, Mr. Avery. I learned a lot from listening to you negotiate the contract last night.” She knew better than to question something so important that Alexander Avery would leave his belongings at the hotel and fly off before a deal was done.
“My pleasure, Susan.” Alex tried to be pleasant, though his face showed strain. “Keep me informed, and good luck with the takeover.” He shook her hand.
“Yes, sir.”
The car arrived at the airport, barely stopping, when Alex bolted out the door and up the steps to the waiting plane. He had his laptop and that was it, but he didn’t care. Material things meant little in lieu of what was going on with Angel and Bancroft’s disappearance. Though all of the new security agents had thorough background checks, Alex was unsure whom he could trust beyond Cole, Sid, and Wayne, and told his brother the three of them were the only ones to know the details of the plan. The issue was, he needed to protect his parents, Allison and Josh, and also Becca’s family, so the others would have to be stationed with them. Keeping Becca and Jillian with Angel would help, but Allison and Josh would have to stay with the folks so that Wayne could be present there, leaving Sid to stay with the operatives at Becca’s parents’ home. Jesus, it was a logistical nightmare, and one he didn’t want to deal with. It was dangerous splitting Wayne, Sid, and Cole up, but with everything that needed to be watched, he had to have one person he knew for certain he could trust in each place.
When his seatbelt was buckled, Alex nodded to the pilot that he was free to request clearance from ground control so they could begin the taxi to the runway.
This was going to be a long fucking flight. It would take him as long to get to Chicago as it would for Cole to drive the girls to Joplin, and he was still jet lagged. He couldn’t have his ass dragging, but he acknowledged that sleep on the flight would be impossible. He was wound tighter than a drum. Joplin might not be the ideal place to send them. What if Mark Swanson knew Angel’s background? He might look there first, but at least Angel’s father, his good friend, and the friend’s son were there to help Cole protect them. It was a trade-off he’d have to live with.
Hopefully, the women could lay low at Angel’s childhood home with Jillian, while Cole and he hunted Swanson down. The cops in Chicago sure as hell weren’t going to get the job done, but that was the logical place to begin. Thank God for electronics. He was counting on the bank routing number and the cell tower used to transmit Swanson’s call to Angel to help pinpoint Swanson’s location. If that didn’t work, he’d have to call Swanson and arrange a meeting. The chances of that bastard falling for the bait were questionable, given his request for an electronic transfer. But it might be all he had. His hands curled into fists and Alex closed his eyes. This fucker was going down if it was the last thing he did.
The money would be a problem. Alex wasn’t able to send ten million even if he wanted to. He had it, but not all in cash, and it would take time to liquidate that much. Besides, he wasn’t going to pay off a fucking murderer. Swanson deserved a lot of things, but money wasn’t one of them.
Alex’s phone rang, and he removed it from the clip on his belt. It was his office in Chicago. The plane was moving, but not yet into position to take off, and though the plane had onboard cellular capability, his phone would need to be turned off during takeoff and landing. “Yes, Mrs. Dane?”
“Marvin Standish called. He said he is available to meet next Monday. Will that work, sir?”
Alex ran a hand over his face as the plane came to a stop, and the pilots did their run-up and system check. “No. I have an emergency. I’m on my way back to the US, now. I’ll call him myself.”
“I hope everything is all right, Mr. Avery.”
“Me, too. I’ll be in touch, Mrs. Dane.” Alex hung up and scrolled through his recent calls, finding the Standish Venture number.
“Sir, we’ve been cleared,” the pilot’s voice came over the cabin intercom. Alex shut down his phone. He had no choice but to wait until they cleared ten thousand feet, and the pilot gave him the okay to use his phone. He inhaled, his chest expanding, but resistant as the air filling his lungs. Tension had every muscle in his body aching and his chest felt like tight metal bands were constricting it.
Alex’s hand yanked at the dark rose and black silk tie he wore, loosening it and pulling it free. He freed two buttons on his dress shirt and sat back in his seat. He closed his eyes and mentally went over the plan as the plane accelerated and took to the air. He could only hope they could pull off the fake birthday party and Swanson would never know it wasn’t real. That, at least, would give Cole time to get Angel and the girls out of Chicago and give Alex enough time to get back.
Marvin Standish was the first stop. Hopefully, he’d get some of the answers he needed.
* * *
Alex was exhausted and it showed on his face. He hadn’t slept much in the past two days, and he struggled to re-tie his tie and smooth down his hair. There was a good amount of stubble on his chin but there was nothing to be done about it. It was early afternoon on Friday, the day of Jillian’s party. He’d spoken to Cole only briefly, but knew he and the women were driving south and were now on the other side of St. Louis.
Alex hadn’t spoken to Angel because Cole said she was asleep in the backseat with Jillian. He felt a little more at ease now that they were out of Chicago with some distance separating Angel and Mark Swanson. They’d been on the road for about six hours now, and they would travel more at night, and sleep during the day.
Cole’s plan was to find a hotel on the outskirts of one of the suburbs where they were large enough to get lost in but still inexpensive enough to pay cash without too much notice. Alex and Cole thought a suite was best. The one bedroom and a sofa bed in an attached sitting room allowed Cole to stay in the main room with Angel and the others at all times. Cole positioned himself on the sofa bed by the door, which was the only way in, or out, of the room. That was the smartest and safest decision.
Alex passed his hand wearily over his jaw, then used his index finger and thumb to rub both eyes at the same time. They felt gritty, as if they were full of sand. Alex was sure they were red and irritated. He probably looked like he was just coming down from a drug binge, he thought. He didn’t care about his image; however, the man he was seeing would be at the top of his game, so it would behoove Alex to be as professional as possible. Alex himself was used to being the one at the top of the corporate food chain, but this was not his usual playing field. Here, he didn’t hold all the cards; of which, he was painfully aware. It was unsettling when the stakes were this high.
Alex shrugged into his black Hugo Boss jacket, smoothing down the collar and tugging the cuffs of his sleeves down so the linen, now less than crisp after the fifteen hour trip, just showed beyond the fine, expensive wool. The white gold cufflinks that peeked out, engraved with two entwined As, now had a double meaning. He was conscious that his clothes, at least, were polished perfection, his expensive black dress shoes shone like the lacquer
ed baby grand in his study, and his nails were trimmed—manicured to perfection. He pushed on his sunglasses, hoping to hide the effects of his sleepless nights. He’d present confidence, even if a little less fresh than was his norm, and his gut was a mire of fucking knots.
As the limo stopped in front of the high-rise just a few blocks from Avery Enterprises, Alex pulled a small comb from his breast pocket and ran it quickly through his hair. When he walked into the lobby, heads turned. Alex was a formidable presence, and he was well known in the Chicago world of business. It was unlikely he’d go anywhere, in Chicago especially, that someone wouldn’t recognize him from the local news or some article in Forbes or Business Weekly. He walked to the reception desk that sat in the center of the lobby, just before the elevators.
“May I help you, sir?” A middle-aged woman with short, mousy brown hair looked up from her work and met his eyes. She smiled pleasantly.
“Yes, thank you. I’m Alexander Avery. I’d like to see Marvin Standish, please.”
“Of Avery Enterprises?” she asked. “Is Mr. Standish expecting you?”
Alex shook his head. “Yes, and not exactly, Miss…” he waited for her to tell him her name.
“Mrs. Towner.”
“Well, Mrs. Towner, I’ve been traveling, and my secretary had arranged a meeting for Monday, but I’m afraid the matter is somewhat urgent and can’t wait that long. I was hoping he might have a few minutes now.”
“I don’t make his schedule, sir, but I will contact his office to inquire. One moment.”
The woman was extremely professional, Alex mused, given that she worked for the mob. Alex doubted most of the people employed at Standish Ventures were aware of his illegal activities. Alex didn’t want to know at this point, but Standish had information he needed, and surely, given the outward appearance, not all of his businesses were shady. Maybe there was a modicum of decency lurking somewhere beneath the man’s murderous surface and he would be willing to help Alex locate Mark Swanson.
The lobby gleamed with slate grey marble on the floors and halfway up the walls. It had been polished to a high sheen and was adorned with a lot of silver-colored sconces and other fixtures. The elevator shafts were shining metal and glass; the doors covered in glimmering mirrors. The large windows that made up the entire outside wall were tinted blue-grey, dark enough to keep the sun out, but still, the street filled with people walking and heavy traffic were clearly visible. It was elegant and impressive. Obviously, if all of his businesses were shady, the IRS and the Chicago police department would be so far up Standish’s ass, his eyes would be pushed out of his skull. There was no way he could maintain a building like this, in the middle of the Chicago’s financial district, if all his income was hidden. It sure as hell made for a good front to keep them off the scent of his more nefarious dealings. Alex couldn’t help but acknowledge the man’s aptitude.
But, Alex didn’t like shady. He didn’t like money exchanged under the table, and he didn’t like sleazy bastards getting ahead with deception, theft, and murder. His thinking nagged at him while he waited for the receptionist’s call to end. He pushed his thoughts down and told himself if this shit were going to wring millions from him, he’d rather ‘invest’ in Standish’s help than Mark Swanson’s treachery.
Mrs. Towner hung up the phone and spoke to Alex in a calm, even tone. “Mr. Avery, you may go up. Mr. Standish has a few minutes before his next meeting. His office suite is on the 23rd floor.” She handed Alex a plastic key card. “Give this to the elevator attendant, and he will take you up.”
Accepting it, he wondered how to many unfortunate bastards this was a one-way elevator ride. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”
Alex waited as the floors passed. The ride up was fairly swift, and after the last of the others alighted on the nineteenth floor, it went straight up without further stops. The attendant handed the key card back to Alex. “Here you are, sir. Please give this to the gentleman just to your left.”
It must have been some security measure, and it appeared the elevator attendant was not allowed outside its confines.
When the doors opened, Alex saw the wall was floor to ceiling dark wood. It had an unusual grain to it. The carpet on the floor was plush, and Alex’s shoes sank a good two inches as he proceeded out and turned to find the man who would take the key. It didn’t take him long. A huge, dark-skinned man, impeccably dressed, was standing, waiting for Alex. His hand was outstretched, and Alex put the key into it.
“Hello, I’m Alexander Avery. I’m here to see Mr. Standish.”
The hall outside the elevators was short, and a set of ceiling-high wooden doors was at one end and a solid wall on the other, suggesting the office took up the entire floor of the building. The man positioned there didn’t speak, just indicated that Alex should proceed toward the doors. He was more than huge, very tall with wide girth, and had to weigh at least four hundred pounds. Alex wondered what type of firearms he was hiding, but it was certain, he was packing something deadly.
The other men, similarly dressed, and bigger than average, opened the two doors and waited for Alex to enter. Inside, there was a young woman seated at a desk quietly working on a computer. She seemed to keep her head down and not pay attention to his arrival or the others in the room. The set-up was similar to Mrs. Dane’s space outside his office with another set of doors, which Alex could only assume would lead inside Marvin Standish’s private office.
When Alex walked through, the first man remained outside and went back to take his position near the elevators.
“Mr. Standish is through those doors. He’s expecting you, Mr. Avery,” the smaller of the two men said. Still, he had to be six-two, two-fifty. He and the other man followed close behind Alex, one at each shoulder.
“Before we go in, sir, I’m sorry we have to make sure you aren’t armed or wired.”
These were polite criminals, Alex scoffed mentally as he nodded. “Fine.” He unbuttoned his jacket and held it open so the men had a clear view inside.
“I’m afraid that’s not good enough, sir.”
Alex’s mouth quirked on one side. These ‘”wise guys” were so polite. He supposed they needed to appear above reproach to get away with the shit they did. If it were only theft, money laundering, and extortion, he would be surprised. Only serious criminals would care about outward appearances.
The larger of the two patted Alex down: under his arms, the waist and legs of his pants, his inseam up to his balls, and even around his ankles. The experience was slightly rough, designed to give the message that they were serious about protecting their boss and it wouldn’t be in Alex’s best interest to fuck with any of them. Like anyone would try to take out Standish in his own building. That would be incredibly stupid. It was funny how his mind had started to work on some criminal level, but it was somehow comforting. If Alex lacked anything, it wasn’t intelligence, and thinking like them might help his negotiations and maybe keep him from getting killed.
“Do you do this before all business meetings?” Alex asked cryptically. He couldn’t help himself. His demeanor scoffing and incredulous, like he dealt with bad shit like this on a daily basis.
One of them eyed Alex warningly but did not offer a reply. Instead, he spoke to his partner. “He’s clean.”
After that, Alex was allowed inside. There was an older man, with dark, thinning hair in a light grey suit, sitting behind a massive desk in front of the window. The room was large with two sofas, a large screen TV, and a wet bar on one side, while the office was on the other. Again, similar to the set-up he had at Avery, only his was more suited for business.
Marvin Standish stood when Alex entered; the two men, who Alex was beginning to think of as goons, took position a on either side of the door, standing stone still with their hands crossed in front of them. Alex glanced back at them then at the small man in front of him.
“Mr. Standish, I’m Alex Avery. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” He walked
forward and reached out to shake the other man’s hand.
“Call me Marvin.” He indicated two large chairs in front of his desk, and Alex moved to take the one on the right. “I’ve been interested in doing business with Avery for a while.”
Alex settled into the chair at the same time Marvin sat back down behind the desk.
“I’m afraid this isn’t about business. I’m aware Mark Swanson was married to your sister.”
“Yes. I sat back and watched you flush that piss-ant down the drain. It must have cost millions; decidedly more than he is worth.”
“Depends on your perspective, I guess,” Alex responded, his voice devoid of all emotion.
The man behind the desk smiled. “I have to admit, it was amusing. Brilliantly played, though I’m dumbfounded why you’d bothered. Perhaps you can shed some light on your reasoning?”
“My motives were purely personal. Avery lost a shitload of money in the process, but I’d do it again. I’m sorry about what he did to your niece.”
Marvin Standish’s eyes widened, and his hand came up to his mouth and hovered there.
“You see; I’m dating Angeline Hemming. She was the clinical psychologist assigned to test Mark Swanson for the DA’s office, for your niece’s case. I’m well aware of the accusations.”
“You mean the rape.”
“Yes. Angel believed your niece and wanted desperately to find conclusive evidence through her testing procedures, but Swanson was able to cheat the tests. Angel, being Angel, couldn’t live with that, so she taunted the bastard over and over trying to crack his resolve. She even lied to him to get the prick to come her. She risked her own life so the D.A.’s office would be able to convict him on new charges where the key witness wasn’t afraid to speak up.”