by Julie Kenner
“Contracts? For what?”
Great. He was delusional, too. Maybe he should keep him talking until the cops got here. “Why don’t you sit down, Mr. Dixon, and we can have a talk.”
Or the minute the fucker sat down, he could clock him with his umbrella. Except it was sitting in the stand out in reception because Laurel had put it out there along with a pretty coat stand she’d found.
Laurel’s OCD problems were going to be the death of him. If she’d simply let him toss things wherever he liked, there would be an umbrella on the floor right now. If he lived he was so going to spank her pretty ass.
Harvey—who needed a shave—shook his head. “No. I think we should go somewhere else to talk. He could be behind me. By now he knows I got out.”
“Out?”
“Of the prison he locked me in while he was setting me up.”
“I thought you were in rehab.”
“I have never touched a drug in my life. Never. My brother made it look like I did and he somehow convinced Frances I was in danger. This is all about the company. Mr. Bradford, I never meant you harm.”
What the hell was going on? “I was told you were trying to kill me because I’m the lawyer pushing through the sale of a certain solar energy technology you feel like you pioneered.”
“I toyed with it in the past. I will admit that, but I haven’t touched solar in a few years. This isn’t about solar. This is about money. I’ve come up with a device to measure domestic power consumption. It’s an inexpensive device that measures energy pull.”
Mitch wasn’t following. “Energy pull?”
Harvey paced, his boots dragging the floor. “Homes waste incredible amounts of energy from appliances that bleed it. A refrigerator that doesn’t work properly, a laptop that pulls energy even though it’s fully charged and off but plugged in. My device could help people figure out what needs fixing and what to unplug completely when it’s not in use. People simply pay their energy bills without discovering where they’re wasting the most. And they could fix that problem with one machine that reads the electrical currents. They wouldn’t even have to walk through testing devices and plugs. I can do it all from one fuse box.”
“That sounds great.” As a person who’d made a lot of money on start-ups, he would look into that. One of his clients was Keith Langston, an angel investor. He’d taken some of Sanctum’s wealthy members and formed an investment pool for promising new technologies. Keith was known for having an almost preternatural ability to find start-ups that would pay off. This was one of those ideas he would float by Keith. “It should make Dixon Technologies a fortune.”
“My brother wants the fortune for himself.”
Shit. “Patrick wants to sell the idea to an energy company, doesn’t he?”
Now that he looked back, he could remember the way Patrick Dixon had sweated the day he’d come in, how his hands had been shaky. At the time, Mitchell had chalked it up to Patrick being upset about what his brother was doing. What if he’d been nervous about selling his brother out?
Harvey nodded. “I didn’t know until he had me committed. He hired a police officer on the take to set me up and force me into rehab. He thought he could wrest the company away from me. All it would take was Frances and him forcibly buying me out. Our father put it in our bylaws in case one of us was incapacitated or doing something wrong.”
“Frances is your sister. Why didn’t she get you out of there?”
“Patrick has her believing I’ve gone crazy with rage about the solar project. I’ve been secretive the last two years because I knew Patrick would want to make as much money as possible off this tech. I want to help people. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. I want to share this, keep the cost down. Patrick would never let me do that. Somehow, he found the plans and he started talking to an energy company. They’re going to bury it. The only reason I’m still alive is he doesn’t know where I hid the specs.”
“Why would he send people after me? Someone’s been making my life very difficult. There’s been a campaign of harassment against me and the woman in my life. What’s the purpose of that?”
“Our father always taught Patrick to have a contingency plan. If I’m convicted of a violent crime, they split my piece of the company and Patrick can still make his deal. It could be worth millions. It could take much longer to make that kind of money if we take the product to market. Development and retail takes money and time. He wants the money now.”
The door opened and Flynn walked through. “Ready to go?”
His brother looked particularly dapper this morning. He’d spent the last few nights in their guest room, getting to know both Mitch and Laurel, and one of the things Mitch had discovered was his brother’s penchant for wearing clothes that weren’t selected for their utility. Maybe they could shop while they were in San Francisco. Laurel would probably be shocked if he showed up in a non-black suit. Or was it navy he was wearing today? He must be getting old. He never bought navy suits. Were his eyes going?
“Give me a couple of seconds, Flynn.” He saw an opportunity. If Harvey was telling him the truth and he wasn’t a big old crazy pants who had gotten out of the asylum, then Mitch could help him get his company back, and it looked like old Harvey would be needing a lawyer in his near future. “I’m going to put in a call to Lieutenant Brighton and we’ll get this cleared up.”
Flynn sighed. “This is a lawyer thing, isn’t it? I can already see billable hours lighting up your eyes.”
Harvey’s eyes widened. “Lawyer. Yes.” He reached into his pants, but the pockets were empty.
Flynn seemed to understand. He pulled out his wallet and handed Harvey a bill.
Harvey smiled and slapped a five-dollar bill on Mitch’s desk. “There you go. That’s a retainer. Now you’re my lawyer, right?”
For five dollars? Someone had been watching way too much TV. “That is five dollars. That will retain approximately thirty seconds of my time.”
Flynn frowned. “Mitchell.”
Mitch shrugged. “I did not go to law school for five dollars, and I’ve got a baby on the way. Those little suckers are expensive.”
“Five dollars now and a promise to let you handle Dixon Technologies contracts and sales in the future. I’m firing every single person who sided with Patrick.”
A firm of that size and with those types of ideas would be worth thousands of billable hours…visions of college funds danced through his head. He took the five dollars. “You’ve got yourself a lawyer. Now let’s get some cops here because this is going to get so messy.”
Lawyers liked messy. Messy took time. Messy made money.
He wondered briefly how many lawyers actually represented the men who had harassed them. And Harvey better be telling the truth because he damn straight wasn’t repping the man who had sent someone to shoot Laurel. He would shove that five dollars so far up Harvey’s asshole it would come out his nose.
“I wouldn’t dial that number if I were you,” a new voice said.
He looked up and his day went to complete hell. Sharon walked in, her eyes wide, tears running down them. Patrick Dixon was behind her, a gun pointed at the back of her head.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Bradford. This one didn’t have an appointment either,” she said.
Nope. He really needed some new security to keep the riffraff away. It looked like they were going to have a Dixon family reunion, and he hoped it didn’t turn deadly.
* * * *
“See, I told you he would still be here.” Laurel rushed up the steps to the building, Remy following behind her. She had a bag in her hand. Chocolate chip cookies from Mitch’s favorite bakery and his earbuds. He’d left them behind this morning. He could buy more, but this particular pair were the ones that fit the best. He always complained that he must have a weird ear canal because most didn’t fit.
He wouldn’t be comfortable without them. She wanted to make sure he had everything he needed. He didn’t particularly like to
travel. He was doing it for her, so she was going to go out of her way to make it nice for him.
But she’d wanted to surprise him and get in one last good-bye kiss, hence the subterfuge.
“You’re lucky he’s on a private plane because the rest of the world has to go through security, and that means getting to the airport two hours ahead of the flight,” Remy complained.
Remy, it seemed, wasn’t looking forward to a whole weekend of watching two women. He’d seemed awfully flirty until he’d seen the lineup of movies she’d chosen for her sister’s sleepover. He wasn’t a big fan of the romantic comedy. From what she could tell, Mitch’s sudden trip had also screwed up a date Remy had planned, though it had taken him a few minutes to remember the woman’s name.
Candy. She was fairly certain Remy had met her at a strip club. Her bodyguard didn’t have particularly good taste in women.
“Security isn’t so hard to get through. You just have to avoid mornings and weekends.”
Remy opened the door for her. “Yeah, it might not be hard for the curvy little white girl who looks like she shits sunshine. Try looking like me and having a metal plate in your head. See how those TSA officers treat you then.”
She laughed as she started up the stairs. “I do not look like I shit sunshine. I’m very tough.”
“You keep on believing that, chère.” They had made it to the fourth floor when he stopped. “I’ve got a call from the office. I’ll be right here.”
That was all for the best since she intended to have an impromptu make-out session with her man. She’d already given him something to remember her by. She’d woken up in the early morning light with Mitch’s hands on her body, his mouth covering her skin with kisses. He’d made slow, lazy, languid love to her. And then he’d taken her to the shower and washed her off, holding her like he never wanted to let her go.
It didn’t matter that she could still feel him. She wanted one more kiss before he left.
She walked through the door, happy that he’d gone with the windows. Even when they hadn’t been speaking, he’d given over to her wants. The building was still filled with gorgeous natural light.
Sharon wasn’t at her desk, but that wasn’t shocking. Her purse was still here and that was. She usually took Friday afternoons off for whatever baseball/soccer/school play was going on that day. Sure enough, there was a little slugger baseball bat sitting behind her vacant chair.
She smoothed down her skirt and started back toward Mitch’s office. She loved what she was doing now. Because they were a nonprofit, she was allowed to do far more than a paralegal at a big firm would be allowed to do. She loved the feeling that she was making her city a better place to live, but she missed getting to see Mitch all the time. She even missed their silly battles over decorating and what to cater in for lunch. She kind of missed her old office.
“And what exactly do you think to gain by this play?”
She stopped outside of Mitch’s office. It sounded like he had a client in there. His voice was hard, like this was a nasty, come-to-Jesus meeting. He had some clients who required a firm hand. Some people thought lawyers were like genies unleashed from their bottles—capable of granting them anything they wished. Mitch tended to put those clients in their places, and very quickly.
“It isn’t my fault,” a low voice said. “I didn’t mean for it to turn out like this. Harvey was supposed to tell me where he hid the designs. He was supposed to give up the designs or go to jail. And Frances was supposed to vote with me.”
Who was Frances? He’d mentioned a Harvey? He couldn’t be talking about Harvey Dixon. Her heart threatened to stop as she eased to one side and saw through the half-open door that Patrick Dixon was in Mitch’s office. He had a gun in his hand and Sharon as a human shield in front of him.
“This should have all been over, but that prick went to Frances when I couldn’t pay him anymore,” Patrick was saying.
“Austin? The man you hired to kill my girlfriend?” Mitch’s voice was practically arctic.
“He wasn’t going to kill her. He was supposed to scare her and you into filing police reports against Harvey. Austin was going to confess he’d been hired. He was going to serve some time in juvie and then get out and I would have given him a job,” Patrick whined.
“But the little fucker got greedy,” Mitch surmised.
She couldn’t see him, but from the sound of his voice, he was likely at his desk.
“What did you do to Frances?” The man she had to figure was Harvey Dixon took a step toward his brother.
“Move again and I kill her.” Patrick tightened his hold on Sharon, who whimpered.
Poor Sharon. She just wanted to be around her grandkids. What was she going to do? She took a step back, still able to hear everything that was going on.
“I don’t know where Frances is. She called me and said she was going to get you out of the facility. She’s being detained by my man on the inside. I’ll have to get rid of her now, too, and all because you’re such a selfish shit, Harvey. All of these people have to die because you won’t save your family.”
Her family was in there. Her heart raced. She moved to the reception area and pulled out her phone, dialing 911. As quietly as she could, she explained the situation. She could still hear Mitch talking in the background.
“So you think the police are going to believe that Harvey came in here and killed all of us because he was upset that a company I represent stole his solar storage idea?” Mitch sounded so calm, so patient.
The operator told her to get out of the building as quickly as she could. The police were on their way.
She hung up, but she couldn’t leave. Where the hell was her bodyguard?
“It will work. I have several people who are more than willing to state that Harvey is insane,” Patrick promised. “He’s pissed off a whole lot of people in his time.”
“What did you do? Did you get in with that bookie again?” Harvey asked.
“Are you even considering all the problems that are going to come up?” Mitch completely ignored the family argument. “First of all, you’re not wearing gloves. How are the police going to believe Harvey did this when his prints aren’t on the gun?”
The baseball bat. It was sitting right there. She picked it up and took a deep breath because she was so going to get spanked for what she was about to do.
The cops wouldn’t come in quietly. She hadn’t thought about that. Maybe all those sirens would scare Patrick Dixon into letting everyone go, or maybe they would make him desperate and he would start shooting. She couldn’t take that chance.
She took the bat in hand and moved back into the hall. There he was. Patrick was standing with his back to the door. He hadn’t closed it all the way. There was plenty of room for her to move into the office and clock the son of a bitch.
“I’ll figure out a way to make it work.” Patrick screamed suddenly. “You stay back!”
“Flynn, get behind me now,” Mitch said, his voice a low growl.
“I’m not hiding behind you,” Flynn insisted.
“Me, big brother. You, little brother. Remember that in the future and don’t argue with me. You wanted me for a brother. Well, we follow the rules of the pack in this family. Get the fuck behind me now,” Mitch ordered. “Anything happens to me and you…”
“Take care of Laurel,” Flynn promised.
Oh, he was so not going to like the fact that she was breaking the rules of the pack. She would bet his rules included not putting herself and their baby in danger, but she couldn’t let him die. She couldn’t live in a world where there was no Mitchell Bradford to growl at her and get irritated when she changed things, and make love to her like she was the last woman on earth.
He couldn’t die when he was finally learning what family meant.
She would show him what it meant.
She swung the bat back as she strode through the door and let that sucker go. There was a horrible crack as the bat met Patrick
Dixon’s skull, and she felt the reverberation all the way up her arms and through her chest.
He dropped to the ground, blood welling from his skull.
The whole world seemed to stop.
“Laurel?” Mitch was standing behind his desk, his eyes wide.
“What the hell?” Remy strode in, his gun in hand as sirens started to blare. He kicked the gun away from Patrick Dixon’s still body. “I got a call from Liam that Austin Hunt had been spotted trying to follow Patrick Dixon into the building. I caught him downstairs with an arsenal strapped to his body. He’s tied up and out of the way.”
“Yeah, well, tell Li he was right,” Mitch said as he strode around the desk. “There’s always a twist. Meet Harvey Dixon. He’s my newest client and not responsible for anything but being brilliant. Make sure Patrick doesn’t get back up. Sharon, take next week off. Be with your grandchildren. And I’ll get you a new bat.”
Sharon shook her head. “Oh, no. I think this one is lucky now. Well, after I get the blood off it. And I’m so glad you mentioned it. I was hoping to take a couple of weeks off. My daughter recently bought a new RV. Grand Canyon here I come.”
Mitch frowned at her. “Shouldn’t you be more freaked out?”
The older woman kicked Patrick’s body. “Mad is more like it. And I’ve worked for lawyers for a very long time, Mr. Bradford. You people tend to piss off the world. This isn’t my first rodeo. I think I’ll make a pot of coffee for the nice police officers on their way up.”
Mitch took Laurel’s hand and led her out. He didn’t even look at her. He simply dragged her away from the scene of the crime.
He didn’t stop until he got to her old office. He pulled her inside and locked the door.
She held her breath and prayed he wasn’t too angry.
* * * *
Mitch could feel his heart beating in his chest as he looked at her. When he’d realized she was coming through the door with that bat in her hand, he’d wanted to die. Anything could have gone wrong. The gun could have gone off. She could have not hit Patrick hard enough.