Kickback (Caldwell Brothers Book 3)

by Colleen Charles

  Shit.

  Microsoft had asked for this meeting, and word on the street said that they’d been about to make Nix an offer with ten zeros behind it. Fucking Dante’s — and I know this must be the asshole’s work — feeble attempt at revenge had probably sent it swirling down the toilet bowl. But then again, it isn’t really feeble because he’s accomplished his goal even though that probably wasn’t his original intention. If he did know about this meeting, it’s even worse. We’re going to pay and pay big. An eye for an eye. I planted the virus that ruined his charity fashion show, and he attempting to ruin our billion dollar deal with the tech giant.

  My black bubble of regret bursts and I fall back in my chair in the meeting room. Reagan’s still standing at the front of the room holding his pointer. He looks like an Armani clad dominatrix, slapping the thing in his palm like he’s trying to calm a nervous tick. Ever the comedian, he’s the only one who hasn’t cracked a bad joke in the space of the last ten minutes.

  The ringing of the phone sounds like a siren announcing that Dante’s unleashed a tornado of fuck you on the entire Caldwell family. Reagan leans over and picks up the handset.

  “Yes, Carol?”

  After a few seconds of mumbling and head nodding, he pushes the button for the speaker.

  “Mr. Mitchell, your assistant asked to be patched through and put on speaker. Apparently, it’s an emergency.”

  I jump when a deep, booming voice floats over the speakers. Mitchell’s assistant is a woman. But after a few seconds, it seeps in bone deep. I know that voice.

  Motherfucker.

  “How’d you like the new PowerPoint slides, whelp?”

  Nixon’s muscles tense and for a second, I think he’s going to lunge at the phone like a black panther and swipe it from the mahogany table with a fierce slap of his trembling hand. He fists it instead as his eyes narrow above his flaring nostrils.

  “Are you responsible for this?” he asks, rage peppering every syllable.

  “Now, now, I can almost see your red cheeks in my mind’s eye,” Dante says. “Is it from embarrassment or anger? They’re almost the same emotion, you know.”

  “I think your work here is done,” Nixon says. If I didn’t know better, I’d never know that he seethed with rage. But I’m his brother, and I can read his subtle clues better than most.

  Reagan leans down and hangs up on Dante before he can spout any more of his evil bullshit.

  “Want to tell me what that was all about?” Mitchell says, scratching his chin. He doesn’t seem pissed, but he’s not happy either.

  “A rival casino owner thinks he’s in line to be the next Jay Leno,” Nix says, brushing it all off as if it’s meaningless. But it means everything. At least it does for me. I didn’t spend ten years of hundred plus hour workweeks, along with gallons of blood, sweat, and tears building my reputation to have it burned to the ground on the verbal arson of a dipshit. “He plays a practical joke, we play a practical joke. It’s kind of like a good old boys’ club out here in Vegas.”

  If Nixon wasn’t sitting right in front of me, I could swear he’d pop a Xanax and wash it down with a scotch chaser. Instead, he takes a sip of his water as if it’s just another day at the office and not the start of the latest battle in what appears to be a never-ending war. There’s a fucking leak somewhere, because Dante knows too much. I’m going to get my best tech friends on it so we can seal that sucker up with Gorilla Glue.

  The executives pack up their electronics and notes and start to file out. “We’ll be in touch, Ford. Why don’t you send me a copy of the real PowerPoint tomorrow? If it contains any more naked pics, make sure I don’t get it before breakfast.”

  Chapter 7

  Haylee

  “Mommy!”

  I jump at the sound of Atlee’s shriek. That’s not a fake cry. It’s one hundred percent honest, and it sends me into a mom panic complete with racing heart and throbbing temples. At the sight of my little girl crumpled into a heap at the bottom of the stairs, I lose my breath. All oxygen flees my burning lungs, and it feels like I slipped on a slithering pile of red and blue gummy worms, fell on my back, and had the wind knocked out of me. Her delicate face is contorted in pain as she clutches her right arm.

  I’m due at the Armónico in an hour to model for Taryn’s clothing app, and I already know it’s going to be another tick in the opportunity lost column.

  Tears roll down Atlee’s face as she struggles to inhale between bouts of the ugly cry. I crouch down next to her and take her face in my hands. “Can Mommy see, princess?”

  She nods, and with another great heaving breath, takes her cradling arm away from the injured one about an inch. From the way it hangs in an abnormal position, I know it’s broken. Shit. On top of the fact that my girl writhes in excruciating pain, the trip the ER is going to drain my meager emergency fund.

  “Are you ready to be as brave as Wonder Woman?” I ask, scooping her up in my arms. “Maybe even more courageous than your heroine?”

  She sniffles and nods. “Wh-wh-wh-why?”

  Atlee struggles to get even the one word out, and my heart shatters for her. Every mother knows that bearing witness to your child’s illness or injury is the worst. I’d rather walk through flames or over a bed of nails than see my baby girl suffering like this. I pull my phone out of my pocket and hit Dixie in my favorites.

  “Hey, girlfriend, give me some sugar.”

  Normally, Dixie’s smooth like silk drawl would calm my senses but not today. Not with a trembling in pain burden weighing down my arms. I cradle the phone in my ear, careful not to drop it.

  “The candy factory’s closed today,” I snap much harder than I intended.

  “Oh, my word. What on earth is wrong, darlin’?”

  I shift Atlee’s weight to make her and myself more comfortable, grab my purse at lightning speed so I don’t drop her and pick my way toward the car. “It’s Atlee. She broke her arm, and I’m heading to the ER. Any chance you could come and sit with me?”

  “Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle. Of course, I can come and sit a spell with you and my poor baby. Bless both of y’all’s hearts. I’ll meet you there in thirty.”

  Grateful that the troops are rallied and on their way, I make Atlee as comfortable as I can with a makeshift sling out of her favorite blanket. Once she’s buckled in, we get on the road. I have to stop myself from running red lights and speeding since I don’t like the grey pallor that’s come over her cheeks. Atlee’s eyes usually brim over with a sparkle and zest for life that few possess. Now, they’re just glassy with tears and agony.

  I reach over and run my fingers over her long hair. “Hanging in there?”

  “Yup. I’m being brave, just like you asked me. Just like Wonder Woman.”

  Her tiny voice is laced with a courage I don’t have myself, and in that moment, I’m so proud of my daughter that it threatens to overflow. After everything she’s been through, dealing with a single parent and a disability, she’s stronger than I am at her tender age. She’s my hero.

  I squeal into the parking lot and throw it in park, taking my frustrations out on the gear shift. Carrying Atlee works best, so I scoop her up again and trot into the ER, looking for the triage desk.

  “Good morning, can I help you?” A receptionist with kind eyes and pink scrubs asks the question from her perch behind a laminate desk.

  “My little girl fell on her arm, and it looks broken,” I say, pleading with my eyes to not make us wait for hours in this grubby, worn waiting room until we can get seen by a doctor that actually accepts NevadaCare. I know how triage works, especially in Vegas. Beds are hard to come by due to the overrun of vagrants and drug abusers. By law, hospitals have to take them in and give them care so other people get put on the back burner if their injuries aren’t life-threatening.

  “Come right on back,” she says and I blow out a relieved breath. Once I’m behind the counter, a triage nurse checks Atlee’s vitals and arranges for an x-ray.
“You’re right, it looks broken.” She pats my daughter on the head. “But we’ll need that x-ray to determine the location of the break and whether or not it will require surgery.”

  Surgery?

  My heart plummets to my shoes, taking my stomach along for the ride. There’s no way I can afford a surgical co-pay, not to mention the time off work. If this fracture turns out to be a surgical case, I’m screwed. Like eviction, soup kitchen, bankruptcy screwed. The emergency fund I’ve managed to stash away will only cover the ER out of pocket and any therapy or meds that Atlee’s going to need when this is all said and done. My landlord’s a sympathetic old guy from Ohio, but he’s got his limits. I’ve been late on the rent more times than I can count. I thought I was finally catching a financial break when Ford…

  Holy. Shit.

  Ford. I’m late, he’s expecting me, and I didn’t call. What if he comes here and sees Atlee? Calm the hell down, Haylee. He’s not going to start stalking you. He didn’t plant a GPS tracking device on your body. But part of me fears it all the same. He can’t know about Atlee. He can’t know about my desperate situation. In spite of my near poverty, I’m a good mom. Atlee’s my world, and I won’t give her up to some rich bastard just because he’s got money to throw behind his whims.

  “Toodlee-yoo.” Dixie’s voice drags me back to the present and out of my swirling nadir of assumed fears. I look up and see her striding toward me, all five feet of flaming auburn hair, neon purple nails and a lime green tracksuit. She’s never looked better, and my eyes drink her in just as my arms extend to fall into her ready hug. “I got here as soon as I could, darlin’. Just look at me, I don’t even have my face on.”

  I glance into her concerned eyes and don’t see anything different. She’s got bright blue eyeshadow swiped across her heavy lids and liquid black eyeliner creating a cat eye in the middle of the morning. But something’s different. Lipstick. Her trademark red is missing, and a clear gloss is in its place.

  “You look gorgeous to me. A real sight for panicked eyes,” I say, laying my head down on her soft bosom for a second longer than necessary. For once, I want the comfort for myself. It’s a lonely existence for someone like me. I can’t remember the last time I even had a date. It’s been years.

  “We’re ready for Atlee now, Mrs. Jacobs,” the nurse says, poking her head around the corner.

  Her words lance through my stomach like a fiery steel blade. I hate it when people just assume because I have a young daughter that I’m someone’s wife. Two halves don’t always make a whole.

  “Come with me, Mommy?” Atlee’s tiny voice stings my ears. I hate the sound of her pain. “Please.” As I watch, I see my daughter withdraw into an internal place she goes when she’s scared, and it breaks my heart.

  “You can see your mommy as soon as you’re done, Atlee,” the nurse coos, soothing my little girl but Atlee’s face has gone blank as she stares at the wall. The nurse shoots me a look and I mouth Asperger’s. She gives me sympathetic smile and continues to soothe my little girl. “It’s just a quick picture, and your mommy can’t be inside the x-ray room for safety reasons.”

  Atlee blinks and turns her attention to the nurse, her face getting a little more life to it. “Is the danger invisible? Just like Wonder Woman’s jet?”

  The nurse is wonderful and begins to share all the ways the x-ray room is like a jet. The ache in my heart is relieved a little as Atlee’s eyes widen with curiosity, and I’m just happy her focus has been drawn to something outside her broken arm and the pain that comes along with it.

  “That’s right. X-rays are invisible to the naked eye,” the nurse says, popping Atlee up onto a gurney and an orderly wheels her away. I watch her waving until they go through an ominous set of double doors into a secured area of the hospital.

  “Have you been feedin’ that child, Hayleeberrie-pie?” Dixie asks, clucking her tongue and reaching for a word copy of People’s Sexiest Man Alive issue. “Why she’d have to stand up twice just to cast a shadow.”

  Dixie’s thoughts on the subject of health don’t worry me. Her idea of being fed at one meal is more than I’d eat in an entire day. Farm fed is being polite to describe Dixie’s figure. I don’t mind being a curvy girl, in fact, it’s what I prefer, but Dixie high jumped over into the overweight category.

  I let her place a comforting arm around my shoulders and lead me to a worn pleather chair in the waiting area. My phone’s burning a hole in my pocket because I have to call Ford and confront this situation head-on. Begrudgingly, I pull it out and dial his cell.

  “Where in the hell are you?”

  “Greetings to you too, Ford.” I really don’t want to get into it with him right now, but I can’t tell him the real reason, even though he deserves to know why I’ve turned into a Frosted Flake.

  “You were supposed to be here an hour ago, Haylee. There better be a damn good reason. Photographers and studios cost money. By the fucking hour.”

  Rage slithers up my spine and lands on my cheeks. Dixie staring at me with eyes the size of saucers isn’t helping. God, we never used to fight like this. I want to fall back in time when everything seemed easy with Ford. This new version of the man I once loved is too intense for me to handle.

  “I had an emergency. I’m at the ER.” No need to divulge that I’m not the one with the emergency.

  “Shit, why didn’t you say so?” I can imagine him running his hand through his hair and sighing as he deservedly feels like a total asshole. “I’ll be right there.”

  No!

  “No, it’s not anything serious. Dixie’s here with me right now.” I pull the phone away from my ear just long enough for her to get a “hello darlin’” into the speaker for bestie verification. He’ll feel like the third wheel, and that’s just how I want it. Under no circumstance is Ford Caldwell setting foot in this hospital.

  “Well, we’ll just re-schedule this shoot then,” he says, calming right down. His sexy voice touches me in places I’d forgotten even existed as he shines his light on what’s dark. I shut my eyes, willing my body to stand down. Even in the midst of a tragedy, he can still affect me. It isn’t good, and I don’t welcome it one bit. I need to get off this damn phone before I go and do something irrational, like tell him I want to see him again.

  “Okay. I’ll call you once I have more information about follow-up,” I say, hedging. I pray that he doesn’t press me.

  “Sounds good,” he says, agreeing. He’s being so damn agreeable all of a sudden, I don’t even recognize him.

  “Thank you for being so flexible, Ford. I really appreciate it.”

  And I am. It just pisses me off to be grateful to him for anything.

  Chapter 8

  Ford

  “What the fuck happened to my girl, Nixon?”

  My brother leans back in his high-end leather chair, and his face becomes a mask of cool indifference which just ratchets up my irritation. He can play that game with Dante, but I’m his fucking brother. We’re blood. It’s not going to fly. Every part of me wants to leave, not a single thread of initiative or desire to be here exists. I want to get to Haylee, except I just don’t know where that is.

  “Leave it alone. It’s all in the past, Ford. Word from our HR department is that Haylee will be back to work on Monday, so it can’t be that serious.”

  “Shit. She could have cancer for all we know.”

  “Dramatic much?” Nix asks, snapping the tip off his pencil. He shoves it in the sharpener, making me wait for him to finish his lecture. “She probably just fell and sprained something. It’s happened to all of us. I suppose you can’t even imagine why she’d be lacking focus since you just up and walked back into her life without even a heads-up. Why the fuck didn’t you call her, Ford? Even if she didn’t want to see you, she should have heard that you were back in town and staying from your lips instead of confronting a ghost from the past right in the middle of a shift. I can’t even imagine what she felt in that moment.”

&n
bsp; That I’m an arrogant, heartless, piece of shit?

  Even if through the grace of God, Haylee doesn’t feel that way about me. I feel that way about myself. I’m starting to think I’m not the man I thought I was. I’ve become someone I don’t even recognize. Nix watches my reaction, and I inhale, my breathing tight and strangled.

  “For the record, I did try to find her, but for some reason, she now goes by her mother’s maiden name, and I didn’t know to search for that.” I sink into the chair in front of Nix. I can tell by his rigid posture that he’s about had it with my pacing. I’ve kind of had it with myself, and the nervous energy makes me feel like a caged animal at the zoo. Ever since I saw Haylee again, I’ve been completely worthless. As an employee and as a person. I wish she’d yell and scream at me, anything but the blank stare and lack of verbal communication she’s perfected in our years apart.

  I try not to be intimidated by Nix’s cocky smirk or his flaring nostrils or the way his perfect hair reflects back in the polished chrome of his desk. My brother’s an exercise in perfection, making him as intimidating as hell.

  “Have you talked to her yet?” Nix asks the question as if he already knows the answer.

  He shuffles some papers in front of him until they’re piled in a perfect stack, not an edge out of place. If this is his idea of brotherly support and empathy, he’s lost his mind. But then again, Nix has never been the brother we all go to when we need a pat on the back. He’s more like a father figure since we lost ours at such a young age. Nixon’s carried the weight of our family on his shoulders for more years than I care to admit.

  “Yes, we’ve talked a couple of times on the phone,” I say. My spirits sink, and I want to close my eyes to shut out the world, quiet the voices in my head that call me petty names, but I can’t. “She’s pretty tight-lipped about everything. Her life, her feelings, her injury. I’m not sure what to make of it. She doesn’t yell at me or castigate me. It’s really like she doesn’t give a shit, and that’s what I can’t take. The overall lack of emotion says more than words ever could.”