Queen In Play (The Manhattan Tales Book 2)

by Thorne, Willa

  I was left alone with my thoughts. Disturbed images of my childhood invaded my memory, mixed with past shouting matches I’ve had with my father. My blood boiled over with silent rage. Jillian’s smile intermittently came into my mind, mixed with the whirlwind that plunged my mind into darkness. She was light in my life, but theories came into play within my mind, and it distressed me greatly.

  13. Mason Woodward

  The strong smell of scotch greeted my nose as I lifted the glass to my lips. My property on West 87th Street was quiet. Too quiet. Since when did I care if my home was too quiet? Since Jillian re-entered my life. A small smile crept up my lips, but the smile faded back to my typical grim expression when I recalled why I was fucking sitting here with a glass of scotch in my hand. I lifted the glass to my lips again and felt the burn of the liquid down my throat as I stared blankly at a painting.

  There was immense pressure placed upon me, and it went far beyond business and company dynamics. After the last few weeks, I’d already given the final “fuck you” to my father, but continued to play the role of his pawn simply to appease him.

  As I sat at the glossy wooden desk in my study, with only my dark thoughts to keep me company, I reflected on the last few weeks. I’ve been insanely stressed since I’d learned about the death of Tanaka, the owner of Tanaka & Yoshida Investments in Tokyo. They were supposed to agree to my father’s terms and work with J.A. Woodward & Company’s expansion in Tokyo. They backed out at the last minute, before the paperwork was supposed to be faxed, because Tanaka had decided to go with a corporation based in Los Angeles instead. I didn’t give two fucks about it, but I hadn’t witnessed my father so angry in many years. That anger was usually turned on me in my younger years, but now that fury had resurfaced. I clenched my jaw firmly and rested a tightly wound fist against my lips, deep in thought.

  I felt the insatiable burn down my throat again as I nursed the scotch, but it did nothing to settle the torrent raging within me. Tanaka’s body was found washed ashore just off Isshiki Beach in Tokyo. Officials have claimed his death was due to a fatal boating accident. Boating accident two weeks after he declined my father’s proposal? My ass. I was extremely skeptical, especially after learning the truth that my father tried to buy out Jill behind my back. She never took the money. How many women would have? A burning intuition was telling me that my father was behind so much more than I knew about.

  The buzzer at my front door rang and I stood, feeling anxious but somewhat satisfied. Punctual as always. I had zero tolerance for tardiness. I left the scotch in my study and rounded the corner to open the door to my apartment.

  “Charles.” I greeted solemnly. I was in no mood for happy occasions or small talk. I held the door open wider to allow him to enter.

  “Good evening, Mason.” Charles responded in a rich Scottish accent, and I eyed the briefcase he carried with him. He was a balding man with graying hairs on the sides of his round head. His dark pinstripe suit with the black tie spoke of his professionalism. I had patience for nothing less. I was paying this man top American dollar to do the job I paid him to do. The morning after I’d learned about Tanaka’s death, I hired Charles to go through the surveillance in and around my father’s company building. It was a grueling task, and it took weeks to pour through the last three months of collected surveillance. He’s a retired MI-6 Agent, who has become a trusted resource over the years. I led him to my study and offered him a drink.

  “MaCallan,” he responded, eying my expensive glass bottle of whiskey on the desk. I poured him a glass as he set his briefcase down and began retrieving a manilla folder that was neatly kept within. I set the whiskey glass beside him on the small, rounded table in my study.

  “What did you find?” My tone was all business as I sat opposite him in a plush velvet arm chair. I reminded myself to go easy on the scotch. I’d need a clear mind to deal with the information he was about to unleash on me. I could feel it in my gut. This man worked tirelessly on the private case I’d hired him for, and asked to meet me here. He wouldn’t have flown from London to New York if he hadn’t found any information.

  Charles took a swig from his whiskey glass and then retrieved the manilla folder and carefully removed the contents within.

  “I conducted as extensive a search as was possible. The day-to-day surveillance appeared monotonous.” He pulled out some enlarged surveillance photos and handed them to me.

  “This was pulled from the surveillance, dating back to February 23rd of this year.”

  I looked at the photo. It was grainy, at best, but it was captured of a tall man, dressed in expensive business wear. His hair was slicked back with gel and he wore raybans as he exited my father’s main branch in London. He carried a briefcase in one hand and looked calm and collected. A rowdy smirk was on his face, and he looked extremely familiar. I squinted my eyes and sucked in a sharp breath as the recognition seized me.

  What. The. Fuck.

  “Most of the people who enter and exit J.A. Woodward & Company do so on a consistent basis, or they enter with a business partner or with a staff for meetings. It is Atypical for a man to enter only one time, alone, meet for twenty minutes, and then exit.”

  “Are you sure he wasn’t just turned down for a job interview?” I asked, trying to rule out all negative options that were rolling about within my mind.

  “...With a smirk like that?” Charles pointed out with a furrowed brow.

  Right.

  “Tell me everything. Stop dancing in circles.” My voice was getting terse. I needed to set my scotch on the table and calm myself before I shattered the glass in my hand.

  “Your father is a businessman, not a technical man. That’s why he hired an IT department. The Cloud drive that hosts the surveillance was easily hacked and I was able to gather this information.”

  I looked at the man with a deadpan stare. I didn’t need an educational lesson on how and why the security was hacked. I wanted facts. Now. Bloody now!

  “I gathered surveillance on all meetings your father had that day, and found a very brief meeting with this man and your father. There has not been another meeting in person between the two since the twenty-third of February, and then again they met once just one month before Tanaka’s death.”

  I was intrigued, but also filled with horror. February twenty-third was just one week before Jillian’s accident down the stairs. One month before Tanaka’s death would have provided plenty of time for this acquaintance of mine to head to Tokyo, and create a set up… I blinked several times, trying to process everything that was thrown at me. Was I in slight shock? My mind was reeling. I was handed a few photos of my father meeting with that fucker.

  “I ran a private investigation on the lad. He goes by the name Ian Brennan, an obvious freelance. The question is- what type of freelance? I have my suspicions. Your father handed Mr. Brennan a folder, paced back and forth while Mr. Brennan kicked his boots up on the desk like he was at home. They must know each other well. I can’t imagine your father allowing anyone to do that.” Charles handed me another surveillance photo of Ian sitting back with his feet perched on the edge of my father’s desk. Again- What. The. Fuck?

  My fist was clenched tight as I rested it against my mouth. My jaw was tight. I had a pretty good fucking clue what Ian Brennan was hired for...

  “What else can you tell me about Ian Brennan?” I demanded, trying to keep my tone collected. That wanker has been putting his hands on my girl. He’s been snaking his way around my social circle, using Jax as a way in. The rage within me was boiling. Red was the only color I saw at this moment.

  Charles pulled out some documents, which he’d collected from a private background search.

  “I did a little searching of my own to learn more about this lad. I didn’t find much.” He handed me a few old mugshots of Ian. He was just a kid in the shots, holding a sign that read Boston Police Department. There was a smug half-smirk on his face as he displayed the sign, and he stood just ov
er the six foot mark against the wall. Wanker.

  “Ian Michael Brennan… let’s see.” Charles rummaged through some personal notes. “His father was part of the Troubles back in Ireland...IRA terrorist. He came over to the states in the 80’s, got in rough with a hotshot in Boston by the name of Victor Doran and was reportedly killed in a drunken brawl-”

  “I don’t need to know an autobiography, Charles. I want to know about the bastard himself and what the fuck he was doing with my father in London.” My patience was nonexistent. I drained my scotch and crossed the room for a refill.

  “I was getting to that, Mr. Woodward. Turns out Ian Brennan got into a bit of trouble while he lived in Boston. Looks like nothing major, a few misdemeanors, but was bailed out by this Victor Doran. Not long after these mugs were taken, his mum was found a bloody mess in their home. Some say murder. Some say suicide. The papers go with suicide. The police claimed the Brennan kid was no suspect. If you ask me, his choice of livelihood ain’t honest.”

  No shit. I drained my second scotch. The stress was eating me alive. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. My father lived by that motto, and drilled it into me while I was growing up. Ian fucking Brennan.

  “I can conduct more research on the lad.” Charles offered. “I didn’t want to waste any time, though. I think this Mr. Brennan was hired by your father to do his dirty work.”

  I rubbed my temples, and then the bridge of my nose. My head was beginning to pulse with a throbbing ache.

  “Thank you, Charles. I’ll let you know if I need your services any further, but I will take it from here.”

  I showed Charles to the door and then reminded myself to breathe. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror just outside the door to my study. I hardly recognized myself: wild eyes, disheveled, red-faced. I’d need to calm the hell down before I took any action. I still didn’t know much about this Ian Brennan, or what I was actually dealing with, but I was intent on one thing. I pulled my mobile from my pocket and dialed a number. My cousin answered after the third ring.

  “Jax, I’m curious if you have the number for your friend, Ian. I’ve heard about his reputation as a consultant and I’m interested in doing some business with him.” My tone was businesslike and orderly. It took everything within me to remain collected as I spoke these words.

  14. Jillian Pryor

  Graduation Day finally arrived and the weather was perfect for this Saturday commencement. I’d gotten my grades back from all of my classes, and despite the drama of this last semester, my grade point average was very good. I was pleased with myself for pulling through, and not allowing all of the drama to drag my grades down.

  “Travis!” I squealed like a silly girl as I ran into the arms of my brother. He picked me up and twirled me around as he used to when I was little. The force was enough to knock my graduation cap off my head. I kept my arms around him in the biggest bear embrace. Adrenaline from the excitement of seeing my family coursed through me.

  Travis grinned and set me back down on my feet just outside the Yankees Stadium. Crowds were everywhere and I felt squashed against my brother as people pushed past us to file into the stadium. The commencement was uniting all the schools and colleges of New York University inside this grand stadium in the Bronx. For me, this was going to be a major event, even if I’d be sitting my ass down for a long time.

  I managed to hold Travis at arms length and looked at him. His chestnut hair had grown out to a somewhat shaggy mess, but it suited him. His usual, rugged wardrobe was replaced today with a blue and white checkered button-down and jeans with a hole at the knee, and converse. Okay well, at least his shirt is ironed.

  “Sweetheart, be careful. You will wrinkle your commencement gown.” Mom said as she appeared just beside Travis and wrapped her arms around me. I held her tightly. So tightly. It brought tears to my eyes to see mom and Travis again, and my heart swelled. I didn’t want to let her go, but we did have a ceremony to attend.

  “How was the drive from Ohio?” I asked.

  Mom and Travis looked at me curiously. “We took the flight you emailed,” my mom said with a raised brow.

  I didn’t book a flight for them… Who has that kind of money? Mason.

  “This is the last time I’ll accept. If the ticket was refundable, I would have taken the car,” Travis added. “You need to be saving money. I didn’t realize your new job paid that well.”

  “Traffic can be rough and I was worried the car might break down or something.” That was the truth. I had been concerned that my mom and Travis wouldn’t make it to New York in time, especially since Travis mentioned that they’d be leaving the morning before because of his work schedule. I blabbed my frustrations to Mason one evening as I refilled my wine glass. He’d been standoffish and distant that night; I didn’t think he was actually listening. I assumed he was just fuming over the idea of having to face Travis again.

  Why wouldn’t he tell me that he booked my mom and brother a flight? I’ll have to thank him later.

  “I’m dying to meet this boyfriend of yours,” mom said with a smile.

  “Heh. You’ll see him later.”

  You met him years ago.

  I never told mom and Travis about Mason. It wasn’t a conversation I could have over the phone, given our history with Mason. This was something that I needed to tell them in person. I wasn’t sure how Travis was going to handle this news, and that part made me nervous. As it was, Mason was very cold every time I mentioned mom and Travis, especially Travis. My heart swelled in my chest when I realized he had purchased their flights, though.

  ****

  Commencement was as exciting as could be expected. A Spring breeze kept trying to knock my cap off my head. I should have clipped my hair away from my face. I nearly tripped over my heels as I took the steps to shake the Dean’s hand and receive my diploma. A breeze blew my hair into my face and it stuck to my lip gloss. It was definitely not a Hollywood movie moment. As I shook the Dean’s hand, I took a quick scan of the crowd in the stadium seating. I remember doing the same thing at my High School graduation when I received my diploma. I saw Mom sitting with Travis. The spot next to Mom was empty, and my heart suddenly dropped to my stomach. He skipped another Graduation.

  No, he didn’t. Just before I turned to exit the stage, I spotted him standing a few rows above mom and Travis. He was holding a bouquet of orange Lilies, wearing a dark blue button down with the sleeves rolled up half-way, and Khakis. He grinned at me, and winked. He was so gorgeous. My stomach did a double flip-flop and I gave him an ear-splitting grin. Relief and pure joy washed over me.

  After commencement, students gathered with their families to take photos and receive congratulations. The breeze kept whipping my hair into my face and I was desperate for a hair tie. Mason stood off to the side while I had pictures taken with Mom and Travis. They didn’t realize he was there, standing off to the side, and it felt awkward.

  I didn’t understand. Was he still angry with Travis? Sooner or later, my family would have to learn about him because he was taking us all out to dinner to celebrate my graduation.. and I wanted to get him in the picture.

  “Mason!” I waved him over, and I watched as he visibly stiffened. His expression was a glare in my direction, for the briefest of moments, before he succumbed and walked in my direction.

  I didn’t want to give anyone any momentum for reaction. “Mom, can you take a picture of us?”

  My mom stood there, shocked for a moment. Okay, perhaps I should have given everyone some time to process this sudden transition.

  I couldn’t look at Travis, even though I felt his icy gaze on us. The immediate tension was so thick between my brother and my boyfriend. It was smothering. Suffocating. Maybe dinner afterwards was not such a good idea…

  Mom lightened some of the tension when she suddenly grabbed Mason in a huge embrace.

  “Oh honey, how are you? We missed you.” Her eyes were teary. She was always an emotion
al person.

  Awkward.

  Mason was rigid in her embrace, just as he was the very first time I hugged him in the back of his Benz when he picked me up outside the Starbucks months ago.

  “It’s good to see you, Mrs. Pryor,” Mason murmured and lightly hugged her in return.

  Mom and Mason relaxed their embrace.

  “Alright, smile, you two. Today is a happy day!” She coached as she positioned the camera. Mason remained stiff at my side, like he was afraid to touch me. The disapproval radiated off my brother, and was ruining the pictures.

  I grinned as I wrapped one hand around Mason’s waist. I could still feel how tense he was, with Travis quietly staring. Mom took about fifty pictures of me with Mason. When pictures were finished, I turned to look at Travis. His jaw was set, his mouth in a firm line. Confused, with a what the fuck expression clearly etched on his face.

  “Jill, I didn’t know you were talking to Mason.” He said in a very pensive tone as we all walked to the parking lot. I never liked that tone. He used that tone during my teenage years whenever I tried to lie about something.

  “Yes…” I answered.

  “Jillian reached out to me a few months ago,” Mason responded in just as stoic a tone.

  “Hm.” That was my brother’s only reply as we continued walking.

  Tension. The rental car was only a few yards away. We can make it.

  “Oh, for goodness sake!” My mother suddenly threw her hands up in the air. “Whatever happened between you two- it was years ago. You were much younger then, with less wisdom. Can’t you put it past you?”

  Damn, Mom.