by Dakota Black
Perhaps because the list of enemies was far too long.
He hesitated and pressed his hand against his face. The air bag had left him with nasty yet superficial burns, creating blotches on his face and neck. He ached all over, but there were no broken bones. Sadly, his beloved Mercedes had been totaled, the front and passenger side wrapping around a large tree trunk. However, he’d been damn lucky the shotgun blasts had missed, merely shattering the back window. Then the assholes had left the scene, their tires screeching around the darkened curves.
He had a disturbing feeling that the chase as well as the subsequent gun attack had been nothing more than a warning, a mere indicator of more to come, much like the severed finger. But for what reason? Which jerk-off wanted a piece of Rush Enterprises at this point? He was determined to leave out some of the information. There was no sense in alarming his buddies. Not yet anyway.
Exhaling, he opened the door, walking inside.
“As long as Zach has the contracts ready we can approach the owner with our final offer,” Mitchell stated in a matter of fact way. “Tough bastard the man turned out to be. Greedy, too.”
“I have the contracts, but I’m going to repeat one last time that this isn’t a good idea.” Zach closed the door with enough force the action drew their attention.
Camden narrowed his eyes and took two long strides toward Zach. “What in the fuck happened to you?”
“Doesn’t look like a bar fight,” Mitchell teased then as Zach took two additional steps, his gait slow and slightly off kilter, he blew out a swath of air. “Jesus, buddy. You look like shit.”
Zach dropped his briefcase onto the closest chair and gave each of them a harsh look. “Someone tried to kill me last night.”
“Wha-at?” Camden moved even closer, his mouth slack.
Nodding, Zach eyed the coffee maker, debating on yet another cup or a shot of whiskey. He was already wired, every nerve on edge.
“Sit the fuck down. What are you talking about?” Mitchell closed the distance, taking Zach’s arm and attempting to pull him toward the couch.
“I’m fine and I don’t want to sit.” Zach moved closer to the small bar, his decision made. He grabbed a glass and the bottle of Old Forester bourbon, filling more than half of the oversized rocks glass. At least his friends remained quiet until he had a decent sip. When he turned around to face them, he could see concern in both of their eyes. “I was chased in my car by some badasses in a dark SUV then shot at and no, the police didn’t catch the motherfuckers.”
Mitchell opened his mouth then closed his eyes. “Have you received any threats lately?”
“Lately? No,” Zach answered, remembering the odd phone call almost a month prior, another perhaps five months before. He hadn’t thought anything of the dead silence on the other end, but now he was beginning to wonder. Why would Mitchell immediately think he was being threatened?
“Lately. What haven’t you been telling us?” Camden watched Zach’s every move as he continued to sip on his drink.
Laughing, Zach waved his other hand. “I’m just your attorney, but you aren’t my only client. I had no reason to believe a silent phone call was anything directed toward my work with Rush.” His other clients were small time corporations and his work mostly involved basic negotiations, minimal contracts and occasionally concerns about various new laws. Not a single one of them had a hidden agenda, out to kill him. At least that he knew of.
“What did the police say?” Mitchell asked quietly.
Zach shrugged. “What could they say? That I could have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was in the Mercedes. Expensive car. Dark night. You get the drill.”
“But you don’t think this is about carjacking, do you?”
He looked at Camden and allowed his mind to wander. He had two reasons to be concerned, one of them being the location of where he’d been the night before, but in his mind, this was much more personal than anyone interested in his heightened level of kink. His past was coming back to haunt him. “Not a snowball’s chance in Hell.”
A moment of tension settled in.
“We’re constantly receiving threats, although most of them turn out to be bogus.” Camden’s voice didn’t sound convincing.
“Still, they need to be checked out, any ones that are credible given to the police,” Mitchell added.
“You forget, I’m the one who usually handles checking on the various sources of these pushbacks and innuendoes,” Zach snarked as he pulled out a file. “Here’s the most recent list of assholes that I’ve formulated. None of the threats within the last four months are laced with violence, merely giving credence to discrediting each one of us.”
“What’s going on? I can tell you’re angry, and not just about the accident or the potential threat.” Mitchell’s question was clipped. He grabbed the file from Zach’s hand and took a quick look.
The man knew him too well.
“You bet I’m angry, furious in fact.” While Zach tried to keep his tone of voice with little or no nasty inflection, he knew he’d failed. He was bitter. Why? Because both men knew how important his ancestry was to him, even though he never talked about his heritage. At this point, expanding and additional profits were their only motivations.
“The new building,” Camden answered for him then darted a glance at Mitchell.
“You bet.” He took another long swig of his drink, savoring in the smooth taste.
“Wait a minute. There’s something I don’t understand,” Camden moved behind his desk. “You brought the idea of expansion, including the concept of purchasing land for a building of our own design. I believe you commented on the excellent tax credits?” He flipped through several pages in a file. “I have all your notes here, including your work with the accountant on exactly how we handle every stage and how it will affect us financially.”
“That’s not the issue,” Mitchell added as he shook his head.
“Mitchell is right. I also suggested we consider expanding to another city. Houston came to mind.”
Camden laughed and tossed the file. “I’m not certain how well a brand spanking new building will seem to a city that was underwater this past summer.”
Zach inhaled and looked out of the window. “That would go over just as well as building on Indian land.”
Mitchell whistled. “Well, we seem to be at an interesting crossroads. Zach, we’ve looked at more than just Houston as far as the demographics are concerned, even considering just outside of El Paso, adding to the Steele site. All things being said, keeping the new building within driving distance of this office seemed like the prudent decision to make.” He walked closer to Zach, a comforting smile on his face. “Besides, the land was sold to another developer last year and from the plats we received well over a week ago, it appears that less than ten percent is on Indian land. We’re not actually purchasing directly from the tribe. They gave up their rights when they sold to New Horizons Development.”
“You mean hallowed ground,” Zach corrected. “That’s what the Indians believe, no matter what tribe considers land they originally owned.”
“You’re the Indian expert. I know that, Zach, but all of this could have been avoided if we’d known earlier.” Camden plopped down into his chair, closing his eyes.
“As I said, I’m just your attorney. The Board of Directors makes decisions on a regular basis, then assumes that I’ll be able to finagle a contract, seal a deal, strong arm a competitor or otherwise pull a rabbit out of the hat!”
The words hung in the room.
Clearing his throat, Mitchell glanced at Zach’s drink then walked toward the bar. “I think I need one of those.”
Snorting, Zach moved toward his briefcase, yanking out a letter. “Received this in the mail two days ago. Now, that lends itself to the understanding that we continue to have someone within our organization exposing confidential details. Nevertheless, the basic threat is real.” He dropped the letter onto Camden’s desk
and headed back to the bar, topping off his drink.
His hand was shaking as he tried to lift the bottle. Easing the glass down on the counter, he clenched his fist, willing his nerves to leave him the hell alone. Even given the incident with the driver, his real concern was the haunting connection with the spirit world. He’d been rocked.
“What in the hell is this?” Camden skimmed several of the pages.
“It seems the Apache Tribal Council is moving forward to block the sale.” Zach couldn’t help but chuckle. The Apache tribe hadn’t reared their heads for any particular reason in almost two decades. Why now? Why care? The answer he would no doubt have to discover.
Mitchell took long strides toward Camden’s desk. “The what?”
“You heard me. They still have certain land as given to them by the government. It seems, according to their claim, that they were strong armed into selling the portion to New Horizons.” Zach swirled his drink, allowing the information to sink in.
“But we have a deal with New Horizons,” Camden insisted.
“Not until the contracts are signed.”
“Zach is right. We should just pull back from this.”
“And lose the fifty thousand dollars invested already?” Camden hissed as he dropped the letter and shoved his hands into his pockets.
“What fifty thousand dollars?” Zach looked from one man to the other.
Mitchell cocked his head, his glare directly on Camden. “There were other interested parties. The money allowed for first right of refusal.”
Zach thought about the information. “Given the profit margin from last year because of the loss of income from the offshore rigs, Rush doesn’t have fifty thousand dollars to lose.”
“Exactly.” Camden remained unblinking.
Huffing, he paced the room. “Then you’ve boxed us into a corner.”
“What will the Tribal Council do at this point?” Mitchell asked.
Zach looked his friend directly in the eye. “Raise the dead.”
“Cassandra Jeffries.” She answered the phone as she sorted through her files, angry with herself for being so clumsy that morning. She was still shaking from the incident the night before, unable to sleep as the visions clouded her perception. The damn painting. She couldn’t believe she’d finished it in a little under two hours, but she remained exhausted, unsure of why she’d been drawn, no forced to paint. She’d stood by the canvas for almost an hour, fear and longing sweeping through her. Maybe she was losing her mind. The man’s face she’d been able to see so clearly in her mind had transferred to a disfigured monster, angry and vile. “Damn it!”
“Well, you’re feisty this morning.” The female on the other end of the phone laughed, the sound laced with utter joy.
“Rebecca? I’m sorry. Been a shit morning. In fact, it’s been a shit few weeks,” Cassandra huffed as she dropped into her chair, hanging her head. If she’d forgotten the most important set of papers, she was going to slice her own wrists.
“Wow. I’m sorry, honey. I just called to invite you to lunch. You know, a birthday lunch.”
She’d all but forgotten. Turning the ripe old age of twenty-seven didn’t mean anything special to her in the least, especially given she might just lose her job if she’d forgotten her work. Reprinting from the computer would take too long. “Lunch. Today?”
“Today is your birthday,” Rebecca stated, ire in her voice.
“So, what?” She almost knocked off the other files then breathed a sigh of relief when she noticed the file. So many of her clients preferred seeing drawings on paper, even for a few minutes. They were comforted by the 3-D images.
“So, what? That’s it. We are going out to lunch and I won’t take no for an answer. Okay? I’ll take you to your favorite place.”
At this point, Cassandra couldn’t even remember what her favorite place was. Rebecca was a good friend, even though they’d only known each other for a few months. A little R & R might be what the doctor ordered. “What the heck. What time?”
“Meet me at Valente’s at eleven forty-five. And make certain you have your kink on.”
She heard her friend’s laughter and knew that Rebecca had something up her sleeve. A light tapping on her door prevented her from giving a smartass retort. “I have to go but I’ll see you then.”
“You stand me up and I’ll hunt you down.”
“Yeah. Yeah. You and what cowboy?” She had barely hung up the phone when her boss walked in. Diego Myers was a powerful and formidable man. He exuded sexiness in the way he walked, his slight accent and those eyes, those penetrating dark eyes. Every girl who worked at Myers and Logan Associates had the hots for him and even she had to admit, he was the kind of man fantasies were made of. He also couldn’t seem to stand her, never giving her a break or even a compliment. She rose to her feet, offering a smile. “Yes?”
“Miss Jeffries. We’d like to see you in my office in five minutes.” His statement was polite but there was no smile, no expression of any kind.
“Yes, sir. Five minutes.” The ‘we’ meant Mr. Myers and his partner, a man who almost never came into the office. She gripped the edge of her desk and grimaced after he closed the door. She’d been bucking for a promotion for two months. Her work product was stellar, and she was the only employee in the company who could truly handle becoming the lead architect. However, the next in line was only a year out of college and ultra-wet behind the ears.
Sadly, this was an old boy’s school kind of company, something she’d only learned after arriving in town. There was no way they could turn her down. None. She smoothed down her dress and grabbed her notebook. She looked professional and ready to take on the world.
If only she didn’t have the bags under her eyes.
Admonishing her usual nasty thoughts, she headed for the door. For some reason, the walk down the hallway seemed to take an extensive amount of time. As she passed by other offices, she could swear they were looking at her, sizing her up. Making fun of her. Yet, she held her head high and stood in front of Mr. Myers’ door for a full minute before knocking. You bet she was right on time.
“Cassandra. Come in.” Mr. Logan’s smile seemed genuine as he beckoned her inside.
She closed the door and gave them both a smile.
“Please sit,” Mr. Myers said as he motioned to the seat opposite his. He barely gave her a glance.
Cassandra eased down, trying her best to seem relaxed.
“Both of us wanted to let you know how much we admire your work. You have such incredible ideas and we’re happy you’re working for us. Absolutely a valuable employee.”
The way Mr. Logan said the words told her one thing for certain. This promotion was lost. She listened as they prattled on about her achievements, even hinting at a raise.
Then the shoe dropped.
“But don’t worry. We do have other ideas in mind for someone of your… talent,” Mr. Logan stated as he rose to his feet. “Your experience and growing expertise can’t be forgotten.”
She was ceremoniously being dismissed. Talent. Even the word left a dirty feeling pooling in the pit of her stomach. She was designing basic boxes for Christ’s sake. How the hell could they even know about her talent?
“Oh, I’m certain you have the task for Jameson properties completed.” Mr. Myers didn’t even look at her when he said the words.
“I do,” she could hear the discord in her voice and had to keep herself from lashing out. Exhibiting her venom wasn’t going to do her any good. She needed this job.
“On my desk after lunch.”
“Of course, sir.” The moment she exacted the word ‘sir’, Mr. Myers lifted his head, locking eyes with hers.
A smile curled in the corner of his mouth, his eyes flashing. “Thank you, Cassandra. I can see how much you appreciate discipline.”
“I do.” Why did she have the distinct feeling there was a double entendre?
“Something else I’ll keep in mind for the future,”
he said, his tone commanding.
This was the first time he’d called her by her first name. Well, Halle-freaking-lujah to her.
“You’re kidding me, right? They passed you by for that damn promotion? You’re too good for that company if you ask me.” Rebecca snorted and grabbed her wine glass. “Let’s toast.”
Wine for lunch, something she never did. This was a special occasion, and not because it was her damn birthday. “To asshole men?”
She burst into laughter and clinked her glass with Cassandra’s. “There’s the girl I know and love.”
Cassandra remained seething from the moment in their office. She hadn’t even tried to take up for herself, offer any sort of rebuttal against the fact they were promoting a pimply faced boy to run the department. Jesus Christ, the only thing Tim Mathers had designed was a single building. At least she had dozens under her belt, albeit boring creations. Discipline. The word was a haunting reminder of her particular proclivities. What in the hell was she thinking?
“Don’t get so down. Why don’t you venture out on your own?”
“What, go into business for myself? That takes money and clients.”
Rebecca gave her a heated look. “I know several real estate developers. Just think about it. I could hook you up with them with just a few phone calls.”
The thought was something she’d had a few times, but the timing wasn’t right. Not now. She fingered her wine glass as her thoughts drifted to Diego. The look he’d given her had been… Dominating was the only word she could think of. Even the way his eyes had crept down her body hugging dress had left her feeling naked, exposed. She exhaled and took a sip.
Could she succumb to him, allow herself to cater to his every need? The thought was ridiculous.
“I have your birthday present.” Rebecca eased a crimson foil package onto the table.
“You didn’t have to get me anything. Lunch is perfect.”