Hammered: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Hard n' Dirty Book 5)

by Alexis Alvarez

  “The question remains, why do you care? Why are you here?”

  “I’m not one to hold a grudge.” He smiles at me. “I’d like to help. So let’s see what we can do for each other.”

  “I don’t quite understand.”

  “I’m running for Senate, as you know. I’d like some very positive articles written about me. You need to maintain your privacy. For your boss to keep trusting you with the important, meaty articles. I think we can easily help each other out.”

  I feel like vomiting and I can hear the strain in my voice. “So you’re trying to blackmail me into writing positive articles about you? In exchange for... what?”

  “First of all, blackmail is abhorrent to me.” He pats his thigh. “I’m doing you a favor, Talia. Helping you. And if you help me too, then we have the start of a friendship that can serve us well.” He clears his throat. “While I run for Senate, I’d like the public to focus on positive things. I think it might be better for this city, and many of us in general, if your environmental group stopped pressuring Danton Carter Corp. Just easier all around to get things done. You know?”

  “Excuse me?”

  He smiles. “Certainly it wouldn’t be in anyone’s best interest to hold a big protest with a famous singer. Don’t you think that would just muck up the whole process? I’m sure you could talk to your... counterparts. Convince them.”

  “I don’t respond to threats.”

  “Hmmm.” He pulls up his phone. “This one is interesting. Look how cute you were! Wow. But quite the druggie, apparently. Yikes.” He holds up the device and I’m faced with an image of me, at seventeen, eyes glazed over, hair wild. My arrest photo.

  I put a hand to my mouth. I haven’t looked at that in years.

  “You don’t age much, do you. Good for dating, bad for your rep with readers, probably. It looks recent.” He flips through. “The arrest record, the details of—”

  “That…” My voice squeaks and I try again. “Those records are sealed. I was a juvenile.”

  He swipes the screen, holds it up to face me. “I guess it’s good to have friends who can, shall we say, unseal things?” He looks at my face. “Or seal them back up again. That’s something I’m pretty good at. I could make all of this go away for you. Or I could let Dane proceed.”

  “I don’t believe Dane would…”

  He stands up and slides the phone into his pocket. “You know how to reach me.”

  When he leaves, I put my face into my hands and make a muffled scream. Then I get up and leave. I can’t talk to anyone right now. I need to be alone. Everything is so fucked up.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Dane

  “So, ah, I need to tell you something.” Art sits down in the leather chair. He’s here in my apartment this afternoon. “And it’s critical.”

  I hand him a glass. “On the rocks.”

  He raises it and takes a sip. “So far the board is happy with the project, and you got things back on track in Chicago and Baltimore. Fantastic.”

  “You don’t say.” It wasn’t easy either.

  “But there’s talk of the upcoming protest here. And whether that will fuck things up for us getting the next Mapleton bid.”

  “I’m working on that.”

  “Not fast enough.”

  “It’s my decision how to handle this, so I need you to back off.”

  He stands up, face full of anger, more rage than I’ve ever seen. “Are you fucking kidding me? Dane, this is my father’s company today. Not your father’s.” He balls his fists and then runs his hands through his hair. “Do you know how much sleep I’m getting? Next to none. I spend all of my time thinking about how to keep this place going. And fuck, I don’t think you’re making the right choices.” His voice shakes.

  I stand to face him, voice rising. “I’m sick of your insults. First of all, your father chose me because I know what the fuck I’m doing, and he can see that. Second, I care just as much as you do. Maybe more.”

  He steps forward, like he wants to attack. Then he shakes his head and sort of deflates. Darts his eyes away. But his voice is defiant. “I know you think Michael is a shit. And maybe he is, okay? But he’s in a position to help us, if you’d just fucking play the game. He gave us a goodwill gesture.”

  “I don’t believe that for a second.” I cross my arms.

  “It’s about Talia.”

  I start. “What about Talia? He better not…”

  Art rolls his eyes. “Turns out she’s planning to fuck you hard.” He gives me a sneer. “And I don’t mean in bed.”

  “What do you mean?” I scowl.

  “Look at this.” He hands me his phone. “Turns out she’s writing more articles about Danton Carter Construction. And I mean ones personally directed at you. With stuff from your past, and some made up things too. At least, I assume—and hope—they’re fabricated.”

  “How did you even get this?” I scan the pdf.

  “Let’s just say that our guy is pretty good at what he does.”

  “Art, hacking someone’s personal computer is…”

  “Good business. Read it.”

  I focus. “What the fuck?”

  “You see? Your precious girlfriend doesn’t care about you as much as you think. She’s willing to play with your reputation while you're busy protecting hers. Fair?”

  “She said I violated HR policy by visiting employees on MLOA and threatening them? Fuck.” I keep reading. “Did you read this?”

  “I did.” He nods, serious. “I’m sorry, Dane. I know you liked her.”

  “She’s talking about Hector. Fuck.”

  “Well, did you visit him while he was on MLOA? Talk to him about his job, work?”

  “Yeah, I did, but…”

  “Jesus, Dane!” He frowns. “You know that’s forbidden, and that’s not just company policy, it’s US law. Fuck.”

  “I wasn’t harassing him. I was helping him.” I’m so angry I can’t think straight. “I was there to give him a computer and software, and I told him we were supporting him one hundred percent in finding a new position if possible.”

  “Do you know how wrong that is? You can’t communicate with employees on medical leave of absence.” His eyebrows are up in his manicured hair. “It’s construed as harassment even if it’s not. He could sue the company. And now that you’ve made him promises, we can’t lay him off even if we want to.”

  “I don’t want to lay him off.”

  “But the point is that now he fucking owns a piece of us. He can hold this over us.”

  “He’s not that kind of person.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Jesus, we could have fired him with cause for withholding his condition from us. Do you know how much it will cost us in insurance to pay for his fucking treatment? You going there muddies everything.” He shakes his head in disgust.

  “I don’t—”

  “And the way she wrote the article, nobody will see your side, anyway. She’s talking about calling for an HR investigation. If she brings it up, we’ll have to look into it. And that will slow us the fuck down. Jesus.”

  “It doesn’t have to.”

  “She’s also alleging illegal dumping of chemicals. If she calls the EPA or something, that for sure will shut us down while they check it out.”

  “Now that we don’t do.” I pierce him with my gaze. “And she has no proof, because there isn’t any.”

  “All it takes is the allegation. It’s going to make us look bad, minimum. We can’t afford bad publicity. City council wants a squeaky clean company for the next project. If this article publishes, it won’t be us.”

  I read on. “This is bullshit. She couldn’t have written this.” But there’s her name. And picture.

  “And that big protest with her environmental group is coming this weekend. They’re going to quote this article specifically.”

  “I don’t…” I can’t even process.

  “It’s ready to go, Dane. They're going to
publish it on Monday. If you want to shut her down, we need to do it now.”

  “I need time to think.”

  “There’s no time, and it’s not rocket science. Either she gets her little bird buddies to back off on the protest, and stops this article from running, or we go public with her past. Maybe we should publish it anyway. Show what happens when people try to mess with us, you know? She’s a piece of shit little reporter in a dinky ass town. Why the hell should she have control over what we do and don’t do? People do what we say, not the other way around!” He spits the words and I wipe my face reflexively.

  I look at the thing again. “I just can’t believe this.” Talia did say over and over how much she cares about the birds. But I thought she was honorable enough to do things in a way that isn’t sleazy.

  “I’m sorry. But she’s not what you thought.” The look he gives me, one of sympathy, is so wrong on his face that I almost shout.

  White hot rage spires through me. “We don’t play dirty, even if she does.”

  “I’m just saying I want to talk to her, that’s all. On the phone. Ask her about the article. Tell her that she might see something written about her in return if she publishes lies. Surely a little chat is harmless. Nothing more than that.”

  I think about my obligations. To the company. Hector. But I’ve never been the kind of person who threatens others.

  His whole body tenses. “Dane, this is the right thing to do. I told him you’d come around. That you’d—”

  “Him?”

  Art swallows. “What?”

  “You said him. Who do you mean?” I frown.

  “I meant them, of course. The board.” He wipes his forehead. “Everyone is extremely concerned about the future of Danton Carter Construction, that’s all.”

  “If you talk to her,” I speak slowly, “no threats. Just ask about the article. Tell her it’s untrue, and if she has sources, they’re wrong. Give her a chance first.”

  He smiles. “Thank you. For seeing reason.”

  When he takes off, I sit there, my unease growing. I don’t like what Talia has done, but I don’t trust Art. I feel like there are things going on that I don’t understand one hundred percent. And until I have a clear picture, I don’t want to take action.

  After Art leaves, I’m so upset I can’t think straight. This whole situation is making me crazy.

  I get into my truck and drive out of town and down the interstate, fast, without any destination in mind.

  But when I get to the turn off for the construction site, I brake hard and swerve to the left, turning into the gravel entrance to the forest. I know the path by heart; could probably drive it with my eyes shut. It’s empty now, of course, and when I park, I reach into my pocket for the key to the lock on the chain link fence. Then, on impulse, I turn and look toward the woods.

  I’ve never walked back there, at least, not for enjoyment. I’ve walked the site with the team to map out the outlines of the building and the grounds, discussed water flow issues and banking. Foundation and how to avoid roof debris. Root damage. Once, with the team, just to get a look at the supposed crane area and ensure it wasn’t some kind of fucking Disneyland. But never to actually see nature.

  I slap at a mosquito and curse. Of course I’m not wearing bug spray.

  The hiking path enters from the other direction, and is blocked by our fencing which extends into the forest, because we now own the land it’s on.

  I wince as I see the huge red and white ‘Trespassers will be arrested and prosecuted. Cameras are present’ signs. The gash across the earth, spilling fresh brown dirt, plants torn up to make way for the fencing.

  I know Danton Senior wanted this land because of the little seasonal stream. He’s putting some corporate offices in here, and thinks it will look pretty to clients if we have the architectural viewing room with its own view. I would never have chosen this site, but you work with what you’re given.

  I walk along the fence for a way, reaching out to touch the metal. Then I veer inland, the humidity clogging my lungs, bugs buzzing my face like kamikaze pilots, whining in my ears. It’s not a long walk, although I have to step across fallen logs and into muddy circles, since the path is blocked.

  When I reach the little swampy pond, the exit for the stream, I slow my pace and glance around. I’m curious to see these birds, the ones that Talia loves so much.

  At first there’s nothing but more insects screaming, and a cardinal. Then I hear a low trill, and follow the sound to a partially submerged log. Standing on the log is a smallish brown bird, long legs and orange bill. Bright orange circles around the eye. Sort of drab. Like a cross between a pigeon and maybe another pigeon, but with longer legs. The green feathers at its neck flash, but it’s still not super exciting.

  I’m a little underwhelmed, and slap at my arms and brush my face. Fuck, the bugs.

  A second crane appears next to the first one. To my surprise, the cranes move to face each other and begin to bob their heads and move their legs in what is a sloppy but unmistakable dance.

  I chuckle out loud. If Talia were here, I’d make a joke about how they’re going to fuck, or getting a room and—

  Talia. I sigh out loud and step forward. Startled, the cranes dart their heads up and all around, sort of in a comical gesture. I stop and stand still, but it’s a long while before they relax. Timid little fuckers.

  I frown. Probably the construction noise hasn’t made things any easier for them. Not that I even care.

  As I wait, getting eaten alive, probably going to look like I have chicken pox later, another pair of cranes face each other on a rock a few feet away and begin their own dance. One of them, the male (I assume: he’s bigger) actually trips and falls off the rock into the water. This time I laugh out loud, and then say, “Sorry,” when the birds squawk and flutter a distance away, eyeing me nervously.

  The one who slipped preens his feathers and pecks at his side over and over, removing the water, while his female waits patiently, motionless, observing.

  I have to admit they’re kind of fascinating. And Talia’s story about the town, the ways the birds are part of it—it touched me more than I let her know.

  Because what can I possibly do? Our build is nearly complete, and in fact, next week we’re going to build the last part—the architectural room—which means we’ll bring equipment very close to this area. Ruining some of it, surely, as we complete the structure.

  I bite my lip. What I told Talia was all true; at this point, it’s not going to change. But for the very first time, I’m a little sorry about the forest and the birds.

  I didn’t care about the location. When Danton Senior asked me to step in, I’d have done it if we were building on Mars. On President Kennedy’s tomb. On top of a glacier. Even though I think Danton’s a royal asshole, and I know he’s been dirty, this company is in my blood. My father founded it with Danton, and although he died long ago, I feel his vision there, underneath the crud. I wanted the chance to take this over and make it better.

  And that means making the current project a fucking success, no matter where it’s located. Taking care of the employees, like Hector.

  It’s not okay for her to do what she did—write an article full of lies and slander. Hurting Hector as well as me. I thought she was better than that. She talks a fucking good game about honor and accountability. What kind of person does that? I understand ambition. But I hate underhanded shit.

  Telling Art to talk to her is setting a ball into motion, something ugly. Something I don’t want to be part of. I know full well that if he talks to her, he’s not going to stop at asking questions. Being polite. No, he’s going to go full-on threat mode. If he does it today—

  I turn and pick my way back the way I came, pushing aside branches as I go through a patch of wild raspberry bushes.

  Something is bothering me. Pricking at the corner of my consciousness. This doesn’t feel right. I never wanted Talia to be my pawn. I curse, and pull
my phone out of my pocket. I may be trusting the wrong people... and there’s only one way to find out.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Talia

  “No, I need to be alone. But thanks.” I end the call and slip the phone into my purse, eying traffic. I don’t want to go home, and Lem’s offer of drinks and sympathy makes me want to scream. It’s been a few days since my discussion with Michael, and I’m still trying to figure out my best approach to handling it. Obviously I’m not going to do what he wants. But I need to play this carefully.

  When the phone rings, I ignore it, on the seat beside me. It rings again, though, and again. My cousin.

  I don’t want to talk to anyone, but for Lia, I always answer. Just in case. “Hey.” My voice is as flat as I feel.

  “You okay?” I can imagine her expression, the worried concern. The way she’d puff up. Barely 100 pounds soaking wet, she can be as fierce and protective as a tiger. For the first time it strikes me that I spend a lot of time worrying about her, when she can probably take care of herself better than I can.

  “No. I’m not.” I sniff. “My job sucks and that asshole I talked about last time just broke my heart.” I can’t stop thinking about Dane and how he played me. How he’s playing dirty with Michael Boyd.

  “Aw, I’m sorry.” She hesitates. “I was calling to say that we’re going to arrange a surprise birthday for my mom in December, if you want to come. Make plans. Mom wanted to visit Adela’s grave, too, as a family.”

  My mom. Love and loss fill my heart and I touch my mouth. “That’s sweet. I’d love that. Of course I’ll come.”

  “Good. But I hate to hear you so upset.”

  I wipe my eye. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

  “Tell me?”

  So I do. I explain about my articles, and the cranes, and Dane. It takes a while, but it feels good to get it out.

  When I’m done, she’s quiet for a moment. Then she says, slowly, “It sounds like he really fucked up. But here’s the thing. Sometimes good people make mistakes.”

  I blink. “Okay?”