“Nope, wrong again,” I tell her.
“Dammit!” she sighs.
I try to reassure her. “They wouldn’t be very good if you could pick them out like that, would they?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Zoey says with a sour expression, but I can tell she’s not actually upset. If anything, she’s getting a kick out of this.
She’s been in a much better mood lately, and it’s good to see. Ever since she made the decision to use all the vacation days she’s been saving up and finally go to visit her brother, her spirits seem to be lifting.
“Come on! It’s killing me,” she pleads. “Just one.”
I shake my head. “No way, you made me swear not to tell you until they called your flight. You wanted to guess.”
Emma is grinning beside her. “As fun as it is to watch Zoey play detective so badly,” she says, giving her best friend a woeful grin, “I wanna know, too.”
Ah, hell. Gunner and I already lost our bet with Jude — we each owe him a case of very expensive whiskey because true to what he predicted, Emma was not able to identify any of her security team the first day. It wasn’t until yesterday, as we were loading his truck outside of IKEA, that he finally relented and pointed out two of her team members, both of whom had been with us throughout the entire shopping trip.
“Alright, fine. Blue jeans. Black Led Zeppelin T-shirt.”
Zoey’s eyes open wide with astonishment that I’ve finally given in, and a moment later she’s scanning the crowd with the subtle finesse of the Mad Hatter. Then her eyes land on the black Led Zeppelin T-shirt, and she does a double-take. “Wait… that can’t be right.”
“What?” I ask, feigning naivety.
“A girl? You’ve hired a girl as part of my security team?”
I tilt my head and give her a reproving look. “I wouldn’t call her a girl unless you want to get your ass kicked.”
“Okay, but… she looks so young.”
I nod. “She is.” Leaning toward Zoey, I lower my voice. “She was hand-picked at age twelve to begin training as a bodyguard and assassin for a certain eastern European mafia — and she specialized in performing her job without using a blade or firearm.”
“Really?” Zoey’s mouth drops open, and her eyes fixate on the young woman in the 70s concert t-shirt.
From the other side of the waiting area, Irina’s gaze moves over us, lingering curiously for the briefest beat before continuing on to sweep across the rest of the space.
“Stop staring,” I tell Zoey, and she instantly snaps to attention and looks away.
“Is that really true?” Emma is eyeing me suspiciously, a smile playing at the corner of her lips like she’s waiting for the punchline to a joke. She’s wondering if I’m just telling Zoey a tall tale to make her feel better.
“It’s absolutely true,” I say with grave sincerity. “The security firm we’ve hired recruits the best from around the world, no matter where they might be found. They’re thoroughly vetted, extremely loyal, and highly skilled. We’ve worked with this firm for years, and I know each of your team members well, including Irina. Let’s just say I would not want to be caught on her bad side, not even if she was blindfolded and both hands were cuffed behind her back.”
“No kidding… wow.” Zoey folds her arms and can’t resist darting her eyes over to the young woman. “Are they all women?”
I try to hold back a laugh. “These three, yes. And they’d like me to pass a message along — they’d appreciate if you’d skip the nightly strip tease in front of the windows from now on. Well, except Brandy. She’s a bit like Gunner in that respect.”
Zoey’s fingers flutter over her lips, and she blushes. “Oh my God, that’s hilarious. I thought I was giving some guys a silly show! But I’ve been dancing like a goon in front of the window every night for a bunch of women?”
I give her a shrug and turn my hands up. “Hey, whatever floats your boat.”
Zoey slugs me in the shoulder, and I like the way she doesn’t even hesitate. Something about the rapport Emma’s roommate has established with all of us guys feels really good. I know how much Zoey means to Emma, and I also know how powerful that kind of friendship is, so I’m glad it’s easy between all of us.
The PA system hums to life, and everyone pauses in their activities for second, listening to the announcement that Zoey’s flight is now boarding. The intercom clicks back off, and people scoop up their carry-on bags and begin shuffling into a line as Zoey turns to Emma.
I step away a respectable distance to give the two friends a little bit of privacy as they say their goodbyes.
Emma wraps her best friend up in a hug. “I can’t believe it’s been two years since you’ve been up to see your brother. It doesn’t seem like that long.”
Zoey squeezes her back. “Isn’t that insane? How terrible is it that it took something like this to get me back to see them? My niece wasn’t even in high school last time I visited. I’m the world’s worst aunt.”
Emma holds her at arms’ length. “You are not. You guys live eight hours apart. That’s not exactly an easy trip. Anyway, you’re doing it now, and you better enjoy yourself. And spoil your niece while you’re there.”
That gets a grin out of Zoey. “I already have a spa day set up for us. It’s going to be manis, pedis, and some seaweed body wraps. Then I’m going to take her shopping for sandals to show off our newly painted toes. Her mom says she’s really into that stuff, and you know that’s totally up my alley.”
The two of them have a lighthearted chuckle, and it’s beautiful to hear that between them again. The sound of excitement and happiness.
“Spas and shoe shopping — that is definitely your scene,” Emma nods. “But do you know anything about volleyball?”
“Ah, not so much. But hey, I’m going to learn real soon. I’m planning to attend every single game of the tournament, so I’ll get a crash course.”
I glance over my shoulder to check in with Daniel as the two ladies go back and forth, jiving and poking at each other in good-natured fun. Daniel gives me an all-good-so-far nod, and I turn back to my companions.
From what I’ve gathered, Zoey’s trip to her brother’s is going to be the longest these two women have been apart in years. When I first heard that, it sounded strange, but then I realized it’s true of the guys and I, too. Each of us has traveled for various conferences and to meet with clients around the world, and Jax has had his benders now and then, but none of us have ever been gone longer than a week or two.
But this sounds like it’s a well needed trip, even if all this shit wasn’t going down right now. And I have complete faith in Anne-Marie. Between her extensive experience, Irina and Brandy’s skillsets, plus the others joining them soon, Zoey is in the best possible hands. This team would lay down their lives for her.
A final boarding announcement comes over the intercom system, and Emma releases Zoey from another long hug, wiping away the moisture in the corner of her eye as she steps back. “Call me as a soon as you get there, and I want you to send me so many pictures that I have to switch to a bigger mobile data plan, okay?”
“Oh, I think you’re going to regret saying that,” Zoey says with a bittersweet smile. “I promise, I will blow your phone up — daily.”
Zoey and Emma hug once more — the kind that is full of deep sighs and muffled sniffles. Then, Zoey does something she’s never done before. She steps past Emma, and her arms wind around my ribs as she comes in for a tentative hug.
Startled, I look over at Emma, and she’s beaming with joy at the sight, so I return Zoey’s hug and wish her a good vacation. She lets go of me then looks through the crowd until she spots Daniel and gives him a big wave goodbye — so much for discretion — and he graciously nods at her and waves back.
Zoey picks up her bag and heads to the boarding line, which has dwindled to only a few people now, and I study Emma as she watches her best friend’s departure. I can see it on her face — the relief of knowing Z
oey is getting away from this mess, as well as the sadness of missing her already, before she’s even gone.
22
Daniel
This is why I need Gunner in on these things.
I can talk circles around any tech-head in the industry, but when it comes to the actual men and women sitting on the boards of these companies, most of them have MBAs and have never programmed a computer in their lives. Even if Gunner didn’t have his own MBA with an emphasis in marketing, he’d be able to sell a rose to a floral shop owner on Valentine’s Day. He’s doing a great job getting past the ‘technological mumble-jumbo’ as he calls it so he can get down to the nuts and bolts of how marketable and profitable our partnership with Emerson Incorporated could be.
That doesn’t keep me from being distracted when Trigg stealthily enters the room and signals for my attention. I excuse myself as inconspicuously as possible from the table as Gunner continues with his pitch. Instead of pulling me aside to the far end of the room, Trigg takes me completely out of the conference area and into the hall.
It has to be pretty damn important to pull me out of this meeting, and the concern in his expression that he barely kept in check while we were in the conference room is coming out fully now, making the hair raise at the back of my neck.
“What’s going on?” I ask. “Is it Emma?”
He shakes his head. “Our stock is crashing.”
Those four little words cause my stomach to tighten down so hard I feel bile rise in my throat. “What do you mean, crashing? Has there been some incident, some breaking news that’s affecting the tech industry?”
Trigg shakes his head violently and takes my arm so that I’ll follow him. “No, not that I’m aware of — I just spent ten minutes combing every goddamn news site on the Internet to be sure. It’s just us.”
“Jesus Christ.”
We stride down the hallway quickly, leaving the conference room in our wake, and I send a silent prayer to Gunner that he’ll be able to seal the deal without me. Just as we near the doorway of my corner office, my phone beeps loudly — as does Trigg’s.
Jax is already in my office, pacing back and forth in front of my desk, and his phone alarm sounds a split-second later. It’s already in his hand, so he’s the first to take a look at the alert. “Shit. The fire alarms are going off in my penthouse.”
I glance at the screen of my phone. “Mine, too,” I confirm. “Ah, hell. Not just mine.”
Jude storms into my office. “Is my phone having a seizure, or is every goddamn fire alarm going off in our entire building?”
Trigg is tapping on his phone frantically. “I’ve restarted the alert system to clear out any false triggers, but the whole building is still lit up like the Fourth of July.”
“Emma?” Jude asks, voicing the same question we all have.
Jax’s thumbs are already flying across his screen. “Texting her now.”
Jude’s holding his phone to his ear, already moving for the door. “I’m going to the building. If the system is going haywire, someone needs to be there to greet the fire department. I’m calling Mack to tell him to let them in the control room. I need to make sure no one’s panicking.”
We all nod to him, then Trigg and I turn our attention to the computer.
“How far has the stock fallen, Trigg?” I ask.
He sits down and quickly pulls up the exchange ticker. “Fuck. It’s dropped another ten points. Thirty-seven percent now.”
My heart skips. “Shit. Can you pull yesterday’s numbers for me? And then call down to the trading floor if you have to, find out what the hell’s going on.”
“Excuse me, sir?”
All three of us swivel to the door where my secretary stands, her face white as a sheet. I don’t know if she’s ever heard me use profanity before. Well, there’s a first time for everything, and if anything warrants a curse, it’s learning the value of our company is dropping faster than the payload released from a B-52 bomber.
“Yes, Cathy?”
“There are some men asking for you at the front desk.”
“Okay, thank you. I’ll be out in a moment.”
Rather than returning to her desk, she continues to stand in the doorway of my office, a nervous energy in her body, which instantly sets me on edge even more than I already am. Never once in the history of Pentabyte has she made the face she’s making right now.
“What is it, Cathy?”
“They were rather rude with Maria at the front desk. And they don’t appear to be here for pleasantries, sir.”
I put on as cheerful of an aspect as I can for her. “Thank you, Cathy. I’ll be right there.”
She nods and excuses herself. I turn back to Trigg. “Keep an eye on those numbers.”
“Of course.”
We both look over to Jax. “Anything from Emma?” I ask.
Jax just shakes his head. “No. My messages aren’t even showing as delivered. It’s like her phone is off.”
“I’m calling her,” Trigg says, already lifting the phone to his ear. “Go on, Daniel.”
I check my watch. Another two hours before the market closes. This isn’t good. I want to know what in God’s green earth is going on with our stock, but I fear we won’t find out until after the bell has rung.
Nonetheless, I leave the office and head to the front reception. Gunner checks over his shoulder as I pass by the floor-to-ceiling glass panels enclosing the conference room, a worried look on his face, and I see that he has his phone out as well. I tip my head and gesture with my palm down to the floor, trying to let him know that we have it covered and that he needs to be focused on what he’s doing right now.
As soon as I step into the reception area, I know this is not a consultation with a client, nor a tete-a-tete with a competitor. Their suits give them away immediately. Businessmen who come into these offices wear suits that are unmistakably refined — either imported designer-label or custom tailored. But those suits right there are grade-A government asshole. Having them showing up in the lobby of my place of business is a bad, bad omen.
“What can I do for you gentlemen?”
Asshole number one straightens his spine and offers a stiff handshake. “Matthew Bosley, Internal Revenue Service.”
“Mr. Bosley is here with me,” grade-A asshole number two says, pulling rank immediately so I know how much more important he is. “Richard Blackwell.” Asshole number two does not extend the civility of his hand, but instead launches into an unnecessarily loud explanation of why he’s arrived at my doorstep.
“I’m with the US Securities and Exchange Commission. It’s come to our attention that there are some rather startling irregularities in your records. In addition, there’s activity that strongly indicates insider trading. And Mr. Bosley, here,” he says, sweeping a hand toward Asshole One, “has concerns about the transfer of funds to offshore bank accounts for the purposes of committing tax evasion.”
I already want to punch the guy in the face, and I’ve only been in his presence sixty seconds.
“Is there a place we can speak privately about these matters, unless you’d like to do this here?” he asks with a taunting smirk.
Inside, I’m seething. He doesn’t give a damn about privacy, or he wouldn’t have announced his agenda to the whole goddamn room. No, what he wanted to do was lay a trap — if I choose to invite him into my office, then it will appear to my employees and the clients waiting in reception that I do, indeed, have something to hide. But if I don’t move this charade to a private space, they’ll undoubtedly continue with the melodrama at volume ten, happier than pigs in shit to have an audience.
I turn to Maria at the front desk, who has been kindly pretending not to listen, but who has no doubt memorized every word that came out of Asshole Two’s mouth.
“Can you please have Mr. Bosley and Mr. Blackwell shown into Trigg’s office?” I’m not the numbers man — but thankfully Trigg is. As our CFO, he’ll be able to put this nonsense to rest.
She nods and immediately picks up the phone to dial Trigg’s secretary.
“Ah, Mr. Kent,” Asshole Two calls out as I turn away from them, “Unfortunately, we will also need to speak to your colleague, Mr. Jude Turner.”
I shake my head. “Mr. Turner isn’t here right now.”
“Oh, but he is.” Asshole Two turns to the elevators that open into the reception area then glances back at me. “He should be joining us any second now.”
As if on cue, the doors of the elevator on the right slide open, revealing Jude and three more men dressed in the same depressing black suits and ties.
“What the fuck’s going on here?” Jude hisses as he draws near me, his face red and veins in his neck popping. He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “These asshats just cornered me in the lobby. They have search and seizure warrants.”
Oh, dear God. This isn’t a meeting. It’s an ambush.
“All hell is breaking loose,” I tell Jude in a low tone. “Our stock is crashing, too.”
Jude’s eyes flash. “Go,” he whispers. “I’ll stay here with these assholes. Tell Jax to take the back exit and get to the fucking building to check on Emma. We should have heard from her security team as soon as the fire alarms went off. This isn’t a coincidence. Someone’s orchestrated this shit.”
Without so much as a glance in the direction of the government suits, I turn heel and walk out of reception. As soon as I’m around the corner, I’m practically running, pulling my phone out of my breast pocket as I go.
Before I reach my office, I look up from my phone just in time to see my secretary stepping into the hallway, and I come to an abrupt halt to avoid crashing into her.
She looks at me with alarm. “Mr. Kent, what’s happening? Maria just called and said we’re being served with warrants.”
I force myself to take a deep breath, giving her the calmest look I can summon. “Nothing to worry about, Cathy. Eventually, every single Fortune Five Hundred gets hit with the IRS and the SEC. We just happen to have both here at the same time.”
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