Bad Situation (The Montgomery Series Book 1)

by Brynne Asher

  *****

  Eli

  “I’ll be here. See you then.”

  No way am I thanking OPR for calling to make an appointment with me next week. They’re flying from headquarters to question me about my relationship with Jen and other issues in our office. They didn’t come right out and say it was the Bree Newman issue, but I know it is.

  I’m back at work. Jen and I returned from Chicago last night. Never thought the weight of the world would feel a little more comfortable on my shoulders after she learned about all the shit happening with my family, but it is. Seeing Jen with my dad tore me apart and glued me back together all at the same time. I didn’t grow up with a lot, but we also didn’t need any more than we had. I had two parents who expected a shit-ton out of me and, by doing that, showed their love. It might’ve been a strict love that came with an occasional wooden spoon, but it was love all the same and I always felt it.

  Kills me to see my dad falling to his disease. I break even deeper that I can’t do more for them on a daily basis. It wasn’t safe for me to go to them when I was working undercover and that’s when he was diagnosed. By the time I got out, he was basically gone to us—it progressed faster than normal and they didn’t get him diagnosed quick enough for the early meds to help slow the ugly illness. I was too late. It’s like he died but he didn’t and I missed his last days but got to show up for the aftermath in hell.

  “Fuck you!”

  “What the hell’s going on?” Dean mutters from his cubicle.

  “Keep your fucking hands off me, asshole!”

  I stand and look at Dean. This can’t be good. We both move into the main hall toward the commotion from the corner office.

  “Calm down, Newman,” Larry seethes as he storms out of his office after Bree.

  She’s a mess. Tears streak her face, her hair’s a wreck, and she’s more agitated than a cat in a bucket of water.

  “Don’t touch me. You lost the right to touch me or fuck me the day you threw me under the bus.” Bree looks from Larry to me and throws her arm in my direction. “You! None of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t shown up. I’m going to lose everything because of you.”

  I still haven’t spilled the beans to anyone about her and Larry, so whatever she’s spouting is on her. Jen is sure to be dismissed as it is—I’m holding the rest as insurance.

  She’s garnered the attention of the whole office and I hold my hands up. “Whoa. I’ve earned my own OPR case—do not try to pin your shit on me.”

  “Fuck you,” she spits and turns to Dean. “And you. You never did a thing to have my back. I thought we were partners!”

  “Dude,” Dean mutters and shakes his head. It’s been easy to see Dean has done everything he can to distance himself from her professionally. No one wants to get mixed up in shit like hers if they can avoid it.

  Larry moves closer and lowers his voice. “Come back to my office and let’s talk about the process. This is not worth all the drama. They’re only coming here to interview you, not burn you at the stake.”

  I guess Bree got her phone call from headquarters, too.

  “Stay away from me!” She brings her trembling hands up and fists her own hair. Shaking her head, her eyes are jumpy—wrong. “This can’t happen,” she cries. “This can’t happen.”

  Larry approaches her again but the moment he does, she twirls. Damn, she’s faster than I thought she’d be and the whole place goes wired. Every person who’s come out of their hole to watch the scene unfold in melodramatic fashion, tenses.

  Bree has drawn her gun—her hands shaking, her finger trembling on the trigger. Screams fill the office and those who have their weapons on them draw as well. There’re at least four weapons trained on Bree and Bree is aiming at Larry.

  Her voice hitches. “You’re a son-of-a-bitch. You made me promises. Promises I counted on and needed to come true. You said you’d leave your wife. You said you’d help me get promoted. You didn’t do any of that.”

  Fucking Larry has the nerve to look embarrassed even when an emotionally-off-kilter agent has a gun pointed at his chest.

  He shakes his head. “I didn’t promise you anything.”

  I’m positioned at her side and take two steps. She swings her arm my way—I see nothing but the barrel of a gun and her finger on the trigger.

  “Don’t.” She shakes the gun at me as she cries. “He might’ve started it, but you came in here and finished it. You and your rich new girlfriend, who’s a spoiled ass and should be rotting in a jail cell right now. You’ll probably come out of this smelling fresh as a daisy and I’ll be stuck cleaning the shitter.”

  I hold my hand up to Dean who has his gun out but don’t take my eyes off Bree. “Let’s talk this through.”

  “I don’t want to talk,” she screams and turns her gun back on Larry. “I tried to talk to you. I did everything I could until you cut me out. There’s nothing left for me. Everything is closing in. Even that old guy and the PI—they were following me. They knew. I was going to lose every-fucking-thing.”

  If the room was tense before, now it’s about to combust.

  Fuck. It was her?

  “You killed Moss and the private investigator?” I utter.

  “The PI tried to interrogate me, like I’m not the fucking law. They figured out everything and were headed to the U.S. Attorney’s office,” she cries, her voice shaking. She turns her back to me with a grip on her gun that sends my blood into overdrive. Her face turns red and a vein appears at her temple when she screams, “I was backed into a corner—you people gave me no choice!”

  “Bree,” Larry calls for her again and when she shifts her head just a fraction his way, I move.

  Her gun discharges.

  Commotion fills the space—agents scramble and shout commands.

  When we hit the ground, I land on top of Bree with a humph and she screams, writhing below me. Someone’s at my back, pinning her arm to the floor with their knee.

  “Got it,” Dean says in a rush and I hear metal scrape across the floor as he disarms her. “Someone restrain her. He’s been hit.”

  I’m pulled off and fall back on my ass.

  Bree is full-on sobbing—shaking—and I turn to see who’s been hit as other agents take over. They roll Bree to her stomach and cuff her as Larry is on the phone spouting out the scene.

  “Fuck, lemme see.”

  I look up and Dean is yanking at my shirt. That’s when I feel it.

  Adrenaline is a weird thing—a rush of hormones secreted by the adrenal glands that can cause all kinds of reactions. I’ve had my share of adrenaline rushes—hell, it happened every time I’ve ever had a gun pointed in my direction and I’ve experienced that more than anyone should in one lifetime. Adrenaline has made me stronger, quicker, and more alert, but this is the first time it’s ever caused me to not feel pain.

  “Fuck, that hurts,” I mutter as Dean pulls at my shirt. I hear someone else on the phone describing the gunshot wound and, for some reason, all I can think of is Jen having a fit and my OPR interview next week is going to be an interesting one.

  Chapter 28

  Loses It

  Eli

  Like Pavlov’s Dog, my dick twitches when I hear it. Don’t ask me how, but I know it’s her. The way she walks, her cadence, her fucking ability to stride into a room like she’s taking over the world in a way that’s only hers.

  Fierce, confident, intelligent, and yet she does it in a way that’s feminine and sexy as fuck.

  Especially in her damn heels.

  The clicking gets louder and quicker. She’s picked up into a run by the time she stutters to a halt at the door.

  Her tank dress is the color of a dark lager and shorter than she usually wears. I know this for a fact because I made quick work of pulling it over her hips when I took her in the closet this morning before the sun came up.

  Her jacket—the color of vanilla ice cream and long enough to kiss her ankles—is hanging off one sho
ulder from running to me. Besides that, she looks as put together as always. All but her eyes which match her dress today. They’re wild and desperate—saying it all when they hit mine like a heavyweight.

  “You didn’t believe me.”

  Her voice hitches. “No. I didn’t.”

  “Told you I was good,” I say as the nurse bandages me.

  Her lashes fan under her eyes when they close and she nods twice. Swallowing hard, she does what she always does unless we’re alone. She pulls herself together, standing straighter, schooling her features.

  “You did. I just had to see for myself.”

  Andrew stays where he is in the hall when she clicks toward me, today in heels the color of rusty copper.

  When she reaches me, I slide my hand inside her jacket and squeeze her ass over her dress. “Happy?”

  Her brows pucker. “Thrilled.”

  “You’re almost done. Shower like normal and redress the wound. No baths or swimming. Doc’s giving you a prescription for antibiotics and an ointment. Follow the directions and see your regular doctor if it becomes inflamed, red, or you come down with a fever. Stop by here in about seven-to-ten days and we can snip those.” The nurse points to my stitches. “You’ll be as good as new.”

  I look to the older woman. “I can cut them out myself.”

  She shakes her head. “Men.”

  “How bad?” Jen asks, putting her hand to my good shoulder to get my attention.

  I shrug it. “Told you it was just a graze.”

  “Graze, my gray-haired head. You lost a chunk of your shoulder. You were lucky,” the nurse sasses back.

  I turn to her and glare.

  “What?” she asks before laying it all out. “You’ve got your hand on her booty, so I’m sure she’ll see it eventually. I’d bet my next year’s diet of biscuits and gravy that she’ll be the one making sure you follow the doc’s orders, too—she needs to know.” The old lady, who is a Texas-version of my mother, looks to Jen. “He’s lucky—don’t let him sugarcoat it.”

  Jen lifts a shocked eyebrow and tips her head. “A chunk?”

  I shake my head but I’m quickly learning it doesn’t matter how old they are, Texas women will do and say whatever the hell they please, because I don’t get a word in. “Yep. And he needs to take the pain meds or at least double up on ibuprofen.” She smiles, pleased with herself and then looks to me. “By the looks of you, I’m sure you’ll be back to wreaking havoc in no time. Good luck, cowboy.”

  I narrow my eyes. “I’m not a cowboy.”

  “Well, you sure took a bullet like one.”

  With that, the nurse heads out of the room, leaving me with Jen, and damn if I can’t get a read on the woman I love.

  I give her another squeeze. “Sit down.”

  She parks it on the edge of the bed, our hips touching. When I grab her hand, she wraps both of hers around mine.

  “You heard what happened?”

  She exhales and slumps into her own skin. “Sort of. Andrew found out what he could and told me on the way over here. Bree lost it.”

  I nod. “She did. But there’s more.”

  Her fingers tense. “What?”

  Lowering my voice, I hate having to tell her even though it’s a load off. “They’ll have to analyze the ballistics to be sure, but there’s reason to believe Bree is responsible for the shootings. The PI was investigating her for planting the evidence since Patrick knew she tampered with it. If the bullets match, then it’s done. She’ll be charged with murder. She practically confessed to it today.”

  And there it goes—her armor, melting away by the second. Her eyes well and she rolls her lips in. I give her hand a yank and she falls into my bare chest where I wrap her up.

  “Why would she do that?” she mumbles into my neck.

  I dip my hand into her heavy hair and put my lips to her head. “Desperation? Out of her mind? I have no clue. If it all leads back to her, it’s done. I don’t know how she got the files onto your network or opened shell corps in your name, but it’s being looked into now. What I do know is, you’ll get your dismissal and this’ll be over.”

  She lets out a quiet sob and nods.

  “Come on. Let me take you home. You need to call your lawyer and bring your dad up to speed.”

  She sits up and swipes the tears from her face. “You should rest. I’ll make a phone call and have your prescriptions delivered.”

  I shake my head and sigh. “Of course, you will.”

  *****

  Jen

  “Because of new evidence and other factors that have come to light earlier in the week,” the judge clears his throat as he scribbles something on a piece of paper, “Jensen Omera Montgomery is hereby cleared of all charges. The case is dismissed.”

  I exhale and look over at Trig who’s standing beside me. He gives me nothing more than a lift of his chin. Even though his job got a whole lot easier on Wednesday when Bree Newman had her meltdown and basically admitted to double homicide, he was on top of everything. If the press and Eli weren’t watching, I’d kiss him on the cheek.

  Instead, I turn to grab my things and see Eli standing in the aisle waiting on me. Unlike last time I stood here when he was my secret and I was his, today he holds his hand out and I go straight to him. I don’t care who’ll be reporting this in the Dallas Morning News or the Business Journal or Fortune Magazine. We’ve claimed each other and we’re not hiding it any longer.

  He doesn’t make me work for it. He leans down to place a chaste kiss on my lips before I move to my parents. Ellie had an appointment with her general contractor for her new warehouse and, since it was a slam dunk, told me she’d be here in spirit and we’d celebrate my not sporting an orange jumpsuit this weekend.

  The FBI put a rush on the ballistics report and Bree was telling the truth in her unbridled state—her personal weapon matched that of the bullets that killed both Patrick and the PI. She’s been charged with two counts of first-degree murder, but her attorney is requesting medical evaluations to test her mental state.

  Eli told me his supervisor is also on unpaid leave until the FBI conducts further investigation into his conduct. He told me this with a smile spread across his rugged face so I took it to mean he’s not too upset by it. His OPR interview is next week and he’s not worried. Though, really, not much seems to rattle Elijah Pettit.

  My dad kisses my cheek and I’m pulled into a hug by my mom. When I turn, Dad is shaking Eli’s hand. “Appreciate all you’ve done.”

  Eli’s eyes slice to mine. “I’d do it all over again.”

  That makes me want to declare all kinds of dirty promises to him for later.

  Instead, I turn to my dad and tip my head.

  He frowns. “What?”

  “Maybe you should apologize to Eli,” I suggest.

  My dad shakes his head and doesn’t look the least bit sorry. “I’ll never apologize for protecting my family, Jenny. Ever.”

  Speaking of never apologizing, my father stiffens and turns to leave when Trig joins our huddle. My mom ignores Trig’s presence and sighs, giving my hand a squeeze. “You’re coming to the ranch this weekend? I want to cook and celebrate and get to know this whipper-snapper.”

  Eli places a warm hand at the small of my back and I realize there’s no way I’m spending the weekend at my parents’ house. “I don’t know. It’s been so busy. We might stay in for a quiet weekend. I’ll let you know.”

  “The press is waiting. Do you want to make a statement or do you want me to do it?” Trig asks.

  Eli claims me again as I look at Trig. “Could you? The last thing I want to do is speak to reporters.”

  As Trig leads the way, Eli leans down and puts his lips to my ear. What he says makes me shiver. “We’ll celebrate tonight. All night. Fuck, all weekend. Your parents will have to wait to get to know me.”

  I turn to catch his eyes, but his lips catch mine instead.

  Yes. We’re blowing my family off for sure. We�
�ve got the rest of our lives to be bossed around by my mother.

  He lets me go just before we step outside of the federal courthouse. Trig steps in front of us and handles the media. I stand alongside him as he’s bombarded with questions about Bree Newman, Birmingham Refining, the SEC, and my relationship with Elijah Pettit.

  Knowing my inclination for privacy, Trig answers none of them, but rather delivers a canned statement about how he’s pleased that justice has prevailed and his client is rightly free to go about her business again.

  With Eli at my back and his hand flirting with my ass, I couldn’t agree more.

  *****

  Being free to move about and get myself from A to D and back to B again, should I wish, is more freeing than I imagined. With Patrick’s killer behind bars, our entire state of security at Montgomery Industries is undergoing a major overhaul. We’re interviewing companies for the job but what we’d really like to do is build that staff in-house. From our firewall to building safety, I don’t want that outsourced. We’re still trying to figure out how Bree broke into our servers.

  The Birmingham acquisition is full steam ahead and should be completely settled in the next month. We’re hiring any staff who want to stay but before the plant can be reopened, our environmental teams will do their thing. Once our employees and the environment are deemed safe, operations will commence.

  Which leads me to my next phone call. I know I don’t need to, but I pick up the prepaid cell that Eli gave me, in what seems like another lifetime, and press go on the only number stored inside.

  He answers after two rings. “Baby. You got your dismissal. I promise you’re not being tapped anymore.”

  I turn in my chair and get up to walk to the floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over the cold day. “I know, but it feels weird to call you on anything else. This is our thing.”

  I hear him smile. “Then I guess I need to add more money to the account.”