by K. A. Tucker
Tripp throws his hands up in the air. “In case you’ve forgotten, Piper, we’re behind schedule.”
“Oh, I haven’t forgotten,” I snap back. You’re the smug bastard who put us there.
“I agree with Piper,” David chimes in. “We have the recommendation. Let’s review, discuss offline, and make a decision by tomorrow.” He throws me a wink.
As much as David irritates me, I could kiss him right now.
“Oh, are you two back on again? Is that what this is?” Tripp mutters under his breath, just loud enough that a few hear.
“Piper, come with me.” My dad gives a curt nod and, not wasting another second, collects his notebook and phone, and stands.
I guess the meeting is over.
I feel like puking as I fall into step next to him and we walk side-by-side along executive lane, to the end.
“Who’s your source?” Dad demands to know the second his office door closes behind him.
“Someone who overheard Tripp’s conversation.”
“Piper . . .” His hands are on his hips, his jaw taut. “You’d better start talking, because otherwise I’m going to give the green light to KDZ. We have no reason not to.”
Dammit. I squeeze my eyes shut.
A knock sounds on the door.
“Not now!” my dad barks, but David steps in.
“I don’t mean to interrupt—”
“Yes, you do,” Dad snaps. “What is it?”
David smirks, but then his expression turns serious. “I ran into John Deveaux on the green over the weekend and he asked me what I thought of Tripp. You know . . . what he brings to the table.”
It takes a moment for what David is hinting at to click. “Tripp is putting out feelers.” To one of our biggest competitors, too.
My dad’s lips purse together in thought. “Deveaux lost his VP of Development. He’s looking for a replacement.”
“How long have they been in talks?” My mind works over the pieces. What’s Tripp’s play here? That we agree to going with KDZ, he pockets his cut on the deal, and then bolts? Not that I wouldn’t be relieved if he left, but this might explain why he’s so adamant that we sign now.
“My guess is, if John is approaching you, they’re about to make an offer,” my father mutters. “What’d you tell him?”
“The truth. That Tripp has built one hell of a network of connections but he’s past his prime, and Kieran, I agree with Piper. He’s up to something.”
My dad throws his hands in the air. “So you’ve told David, too.”
“Yes, I have, because I know David has Calloway’s best interest at heart. And you said so yourself—I need to surround myself with people I trust.”
Dad frowns. “What’s going on here? Is Tripp right? Is this back on?” He waves a hand between us.
“No,” I say.
“And has my daughter divulged this super-secret source to you?” Dad peers at David through steely eyes.
David takes a deep breath and my stomach drops. One crisis at a time, please. I’m not ready for the Kyle confrontation. “Give her some more time to find out if this kickback rumor is true. Don’t you think it’s timely that Tripp’s looking elsewhere?”
“Of course he’s looking elsewhere. Wouldn’t you be, with the way he and Piper have been carrying on?” Dad shakes his head. “Get me something by tomorrow night or we’re going ahead with KDZ. Both of you, get the hell out of here now.”
David slides out of my dad’s office on my heels. “Have I told you how much I love having my ass chewed out by your father?” he hisses.
I exhale loudly. “Thank you for backing me.”
“You need to consider that your blue-collar playboy may be wrong.”
“He’s not wrong,” I insist, even as that cloud of doubt swells. What if Kyle is wrong?
“Then prove it and fast, because I just went out on a limb for you and I have no fucking idea why.” He storms into his office.
Mark and Renée share a wide-eyed glance and then Mark is on his feet. “Do you need something?”
“No.” I breeze past him but then stop abruptly, my mind spinning. “Yes. I need to know exactly how much Calloway has spent with this damn phone company, when our contract is up for renewal, and what the penalty is for breaking it tomorrow.” Because I am not above all-out threats to get what I want.
I walk through the door at nine that night to the sound of Christa’s lecturing tone. “He shouldn’t have tried stealing third base.”
“But that’s what he’s known for,” Kyle retorts.
“Exactly why he shouldn’t have done it!”
I round the corner to find the two of them on the couch. Christa’s already in her pajamas, Kyle’s still wearing his gym clothes, and, unbelievably, Elton is perched on Kyle’s chest, his deep rumbling purr carrying across the room.
“The Red Sox lost,” Kyle announces, stroking the cat’s back. “Christa thinks it’s my fault.”
“I didn’t say that,” she retorts, clearly missing his teasing tone.
Despite my hellish day, the sight of the two of them sitting together brings a smile.
And coming home to Kyle here . . . this place is actually beginning to feel like home.
A home that is taking shape, I realize, as my eyes wander the space—to the colorful landscape artwork covering the walls, to the Edgewood Made table and white leather chairs filling the dining area. Ashley and Marcelle have been busy.
I scan the kitchen. “Where’s Ash?”
“Out to dinner. With Chad.” Christa gives me a knowing—and unimpressed—look.
“No . . .” I moan, wandering over to fall onto the couch next to Kyle.
“Why is this bad again?” he asks.
“Because he’s an idiot and she’s too good for him, but he’s come to beg for her forgiveness for being an idiot and she’ll take him back because she’s settling.” I could win a fortune betting on the outcome of this.
“Right. Got it. So Ash needs to meet someone else.” Kyle bites his lip. “You should introduce her to Mark.”
“Mark’s in love with Renée.”
“Good luck. Renée’s gonna be banging David within six months.”
I laugh. “I don’t know about that.”
“I do,” he says with that cocky confidence.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but what about Eric?” Christa throws in. “She always had a thing for him. Is he still single?”
“Yeah, as far as I know.” Kyle’s brow furrows. And then he’s chuckling as Elton burrows his nose into his ear. “This feels really weird.”
“Do you two want some time alone?” I tease.
“I can’t help it if he likes me more than you.”
“He likes your drying sweat, is all,” Christa mutters, tossing the TV remote onto the coffee table with a clatter.
“Ow!” Kyle hisses as Elton suddenly leaps off him and over the back of the couch, to tear across the penthouse. He stops by the French doors and spins around to attack the tip of his tail. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Kyle accuses, lifting his shirt to inspect the long, red scratch marks across his ripples of muscle, which are much more defined after being worked at the gym.
“And on that note . . .” Christa makes a point of rolling her eyes as she averts them, but I don’t miss the hint of pink in her cheeks before she stands and strolls toward her room.
“You up for a game in Boston if I get tickets?” Kyle calls out.
“As long as you’re not coming.”
“She’s definitely warming up to me,” Kyle mock-whispers.
“Make him get off our furniture and take a shower!” she shouts back, disappearing down the hall.
“Have I told you how much I love having you here?” I murmur.
He lets his T-shirt fall and takes my hand, pressing a kiss against the back of it. “What happened today?”
I sink into him with a groan—the smell of his clean sweat is intoxicating—
and tell him about KDZ and my father’s ultimatum.
“Still no luck with those phone records?”
“No, and I spent twenty minutes promising their president that I’d pull our five-million-dollar-a-year contract with them if I don’t have what I need in my hand by tonight.”
Kyle checks his watch. “It’s still technically tonight.”
I sigh. “Do you think . . . is there any way that what you heard was wrong?”
“No.”
“But, what if—”
“This isn’t two truths and a lie, Piper. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s picking up on shady shit.” His gaze drifts to the TV, though I can tell he’s not watching the sports highlights. “God knows I’ve had enough experience with it.”
“It’s too bad Gus wasn’t there with you.”
“Right. Someone people would respect,” he mutters, and I don’t miss the hint of bitterness in his tone.
“Kyle, no one looks at you and sees what your dad and brothers did. No one but you.” Thousands of miles and years later, and he still can’t seem to shake his low opinion of himself. I smooth my hand over his stomach. “I respect you.”
He gives my hand a squeeze, and then pulls himself off the couch. “I’m gonna take a shower.”
I watch him wander down the hall to my bedroom, waiting for him to pause, to turn back, to suggest I join him.
But he doesn’t.
Settling into bed with a glass of wine while I wait for Kyle to finish his shower, I open up my laptop and check my email. Re: Phone Records. Confidential.
My heart begins to race as I see the subject line in my in-box.
“Please, give me a smoking gun . . .” Please give me something that will prove Kyle’s instincts were right, and that Tripp is a thieving liar.
There are several attachments. I click on the first one and begin scrolling.
And smile with wicked satisfaction, even as my anger boils.
Kyle has just stepped out of the shower when I storm into the bathroom, a white towel wrapped around his lower half, his hair damp, his chest glistening.
“Get dressed.”
He frowns. “Why?”
My adrenaline is racing. “They just sent me Tripp’s phone records and you were right. Of course you were right.” An odd sense of pride swells inside me, knowing that. “We’re going to show my father what Tripp has been up to.”
Kyle’s eyebrows arch. “We?”
“Yes. We. You are the reason Tripp isn’t getting away with this bullshit. We would have signed with KDZ otherwise and that dickhead would be laughing right now.” All the way to John Deveaux, half a million dollars richer. Who knows—maybe working with this Hank Kavanaugh could have been advantageous, but I want nothing to do with his business tactics.
“I don’t need to take any credit for that, Piper.” Kyle shakes his head. “You go ahead, seriously. I’ll be here to celebrate with you when you get back.”
“No! You’re coming with me. I can’t hide us anymore. I don’t want to. This isn’t summer camp and I’m not sixteen years old. I need to get this all out in the open, confront my father about what he did, and move on with you, whether he accepts it or not.”
Kyle’s gaze wanders the corners of the bathroom ceiling, his forehead etched with worry.
“Look, I know this isn’t going to make our lives easier in the short term. He’s going to be difficult.” A hint of dread weaves its way through the impending victory over Tripp. Difficult may be an understatement. It’ll likely end up in a fight and a few carefully launched threats from both sides. But what my father did was wrong, and I’ll make sure he’s aware. “We need to do this, Kyle. So we can move forward.”
Kyle takes a deep breath. “Okay, Piper.” He sighs heavily. “You want this all out in the open. So let’s get it all out in the open.”
I can’t help but catch the sorrow in his voice.
Chapter 24
THEN
2006, Camp Wawa, End of Week Seven
“I dare you . . .” Kyle pauses to take a long drag from his cigarette, his gaze on the last bit of daylight as we lie sprawled out in the alcove at the bottom of the cliff. Our place. It’s cool and cast in shadow now, after a hot, sun-filled afternoon. “I’m tired of playing this game.”
I peer up at him, my head resting against his stomach. “You want to go back to your cabin?”
His head tilts downward to meet my gaze. “Do you?”
Yes, I mouth. Right now.
I get a lazy, suggestive smile in return as Kyle’s eyes drift over my bikini-clad body.
“Well, I want to go. I’m getting cold,” Ashley whines, wrapping her arms around herself and exaggerating a shiver.
“You need another one of these, then.” Eric holds up a shot of tequila. We hit Provisions early and then came out here to drink and swim under the sun. Hours and too many shots later, the very idea of climbing this rocky hill and walking home is exhausting.
Ashley pushes his hand away with a groan. “No more. I’m going to puke.”
“Fine.” He lifts the shot glass to his mouth.
“Haven’t dared you yet!” Kyle objects, waving an arm haphazardly in the air.
“Fine. I dare me to kiss Freckles.” Eric dives down to plant his mouth on hers, spilling half his tequila over the rocks in the process.
“That doesn’t count, jackass,” Kyle mutters, but he’s grinning, as am I, because Ashley hasn’t pushed him away. “Finally,” he murmurs, his stomach muscles tensing as he sits up, his hand gripping my head as I slide downward. “Let’s get this over with. I’m getting cold, too.”
We collect the empty bottles.
“Man, we drank a lot,” Kyle murmurs, chuckling and stumbling a touch. “Thanks, Piper, for bankrolling all this.”
“Whatever.” I didn’t even think; I just handed my card to him. I also filled his car up with gas and picked up our burger tab. It felt good to do that.
It takes three times as long to climb the rocky hill. Ashley and I are on our hands and knees, laughing, by the time we reach the top. “I just want to sleep now,” I moan, inspecting the scratches on my palms from the thorny branches and rocks. I’m going to feel them tomorrow.
Eric stumbles over to the edge of the cliff. “I can’t believe we only have one week left here.”
“Careful . . . You’re drunk,” Ashley warns. “I don’t want you falling off.”
Eric turns to grin at her. “Aw, you finally admitting that you care about me?”
“No.” She giggles, her cheeks flushing.
And then Eric leaps over the edge, his “Yahoo!” following all the way down to a splash.
“Shit!” Kyle rushes to the edge, stepping carefully as he peers over. “You crazy asshole!” he bellows.
“Jump!” Eric coaxes from below.
Ashley and I both sigh with relief.“So I can climb back up that hill? Hell no.”
“Lame!” comes the response.
“Remember, you’re a shitty swimmer. Just get back up here.” Kyle backs away from the edge, stumbling a touch. “This is going to take a while.” He more falls than sits on the boulder. “I drank too much.”
“We all drank too much.” I hunker down next to him. Ashley falls into him on the other side. We lean against one another while we wait.
“I think I’m going to pass out,” Ashley moans. “Or puke. One of the two. Or maybe both.”
“Hurry up, Vetter!” Kyle hollers.
Silence answers.
“Eric?”
Nothing.
“Fuck . . .” Kyle stumbles to his feet and heads for the rocky pathway down. “Hey! Eric!”
“I’m coming . . . I’m coming . . .” comes the answer between ragged breaths. “This was a really bad idea, wasn’t it?”
Kyle laughs. “Yeah, you’re full of bad ideas, asshole.” He watches with his arms folded over his chest, as his drunken best friend scales the treacherous path.
It’s anothe
r few moments before we spot Eric’s curly blond hair crest.
“Ugh. Finally. Can we go now?” Ashley pulls herself to her feet.
“Good things come to those who wait, Freckles.” Eric stands and grins, his arms outstretched, his chest heaving with his exertion.
He sways backward and stumbles to catch his balance.
And then he’s gone.
“Eric!” Kyle yells, scrambling for him.
“Kyle!” I choke out. Ashley and I rush toward the top of the path in time to see Eric tumbling head over heels, over and over, bouncing off the rocks. Kyle tries in vain to catch up, skidding and sliding down the path while somehow managing to stay on his feet.
Eric comes to a stop in a sprawled heap at the rocks on the bottom. Even in the dimming light and with my impaired vision, I can see his leg is bent all wrong. Crimson seeps out all over his skin.
He lets out a bloodcurdling scream.
“Eric!” Ashley cries out, looking ready to run for him, tears pouring from her eyes.
“No! Ash!” I grab her arm. I think I’m going to throw up.
Kyle is halfway down the hill, his eyes wild with panic as they flit between his friend on the rocks and us.
“What do we do, Kyle?” I cry.
“Uh . . . Okay. Go and get Darian now. Tell her Eric fell and we need an ambulance. Tell her where we are.”
I nod, grabbing Ashley’s arm.
I run as fast as I can.
Darian’s face is carved with worry as she marches toward us, the air ambulance climbing higher in the sky, two state troopers in conversation nearby, six counselors including Christa lingering near the trees, their expressions filled with horror and shock.
“Is he going to be okay?” Ashley manages through her sobs.
“Well, his leg and arm are definitely broken. That’s all we know right now. I’m sure it helped, having all that alcohol coursing through his veins,” Darian says.
I avert my gaze to my feet to avoid her glare. Regret weighs down on me. God, we are so stupid.