Easy Reunion

by Jerald, Tracey

  “She’s the one causing all the trouble,” Angel announces. Darin raises a brow at me. I flick up my hand as if to say whatever.

  “I do believe it was your husband who called me the calm in our storm,” I remind her of the teasing words Darin said when we were still in school.

  Angel gags even as Darin scoffs, “That was a long time ago, Kels. I’ve seen the disaster you’ve left in your wake as you’ve embraced your inner hurricane.”

  “Me?” The idea is mind-boggling. And not completely unflattering. My smile gets wider as Angel falls back in her chair in exasperation.

  “Just remember, confidence is great—when you use it in the right way,” she scolds me.

  “And on that note, how about I go out back and grill up some shrimp for dinner,” Darin offers. We both agree. “Let me get changed, and then I’ll be out of the way,” He leans back down and snags another kiss from his wife before heading through the kitchen toward the back of the house.

  We both watch him go. “You’re so lucky, Angel,” I tell her, not for the first time.

  “I know it, sister.” I lean over, and we clink our glasses of ice coffee against one another. “I just want you to have this kind of happiness someday.” Her hand smooths over her bulging stomach.

  I shake my head. It’s an argument we’ve had for years, but I know I’ve won—or lost, depending on how you look at it. There’s not a man out there who wants to deal with the tangled words running through my head day in and day out. He’d have to be crazy to take that on.

  Especially when there’s always the possibility I could still erupt back into King Kong.

  * * *

  Later, as I’m getting ready for bed, I smooth cocoa butter all over my skin. I remember Ry’s whispered “Your skin’s so smooth” as he danced his fingers gently over my shoulder. Brutally shoving last night out of my mind, I lift my nightshirt and rub the lotion all over my stomach, paying careful attention to my scar line that’s hidden by my gerbera daisy tattoo.

  Some might say I was stupid to get a tattoo when I may get pregnant someday, but since I can’t imagine a man ever remaining in my life long enough to consider having a baby, I wasn’t worried. “After all, if I ever fell hard enough for that to happen, I’d want a man who’d understand I’m not perfect.” Then I whisper bitterly, “And since perfection seems to be the only thing men want, I’m not worried about falling anytime soon.”

  Slapping the cap closed, I toss the tube onto my nightstand before climbing into bed. Switching the light off, I let the gentle breeze from the ceiling fan overhead lull me to sleep.

  Chapter 7

  Rierson

  “I want to see the draft revisions by lunch.” I stand, closing my laptop as I do. “Is that understood?” Several heads bob up and down rapidly. “You have three hours. I suggest you get to work,” I add scathingly.

  Chairs can’t be slid back fast enough as the inner circle of attorneys and paralegals who directly report to me scurry for the boardroom door. “Christ, I left for two days and the contract with Larruscain has gone to hell.” I whirl on my friend, who’s sitting with his fingers steepled against his lips. “Is this what you were alluding to yesterday? Did you think I’d deliberately fuck up this contract out of all of them?” I accuse.

  Eli’s giving me a thoughtful perusal as he rubs his thumb over his lower lip. “What’s her name?”

  Not caring I could likely write myself up for violating six different corporate policies, I flick him off as I stalk to the windows out the fifty-fourth-floor conference room. I see nothing but Kelsey’s gray eyes when the unusually overcast sky reflects back at me. Damnit. Turning, I find a very patient Eli Boudreaux waiting. Knowing he’ll wait me out all day if he has to, I bite out, “Kelsey,” before I walk back to my seat and fall into it.

  “The same woman you went to Savannah to apologize to?” His voice is incredulous. I want to punch him, but I learned long ago if he’s not with his wife, Kate, over lunch, he’s training with his brothers in Krav Maga.

  Bastard could probably kill me and make it look like an accident, I think not without a touch of bitterness that edges into my voice when I answer, “The one and the same.”

  Eli lets out a low whistle that’s grating. “Fuck you, Eli,” I tell him bluntly.

  “No, thanks, I’m pretty certain you have enough to do fixing the problems you just found in our contract.”

  Damn, I hate myself even more right now than I thought I did ten minutes ago if that’s even possible. Leaning forward, I brace my forearms on the conference room table. “I swear, those clauses were not in that contract when I left. Look.” I swivel my laptop around. I haven’t had a chance to connect to the network since I woke up late. The date on my contract is when I last downloaded it.

  Two days ago.

  Eli stares at the screen a moment before sighing. “That’s what I was afraid of. I want to bring Kate in on this.” Eli’s wife specializes in corporate espionage. She used to work for a multinational firm until she met and fell in love with Eli. Now, she heads the insider threat program for Bayou Enterprises.

  I scrub my hand over my hair in frustration. “Are you sure? Can’t you give me a day to check the other contracts in the hopper?”

  He growls low in his throat. “Are you willing to risk it if this isn’t a careless mistake?” Before I can respond, he holds up his hand. “You’ve got until lunch, but you’ll let Beau, Van, and I know if you find anything before Kate does?” He rattles off the names of his partners—and siblings—all who hold an equal stake in Bayou Enterprises.

  All of whom are my bosses.

  “Immediately,” I assure him.

  He nods. “Now, take a breath before you combust. Tell me what happened in Savannah.”

  I want to do that less than I want to spend time reviewing the multimillion-dollar contracts that are supposed to be locked. But Eli’s been my friend for years, and long ago when I was so drunk he helped carry me home, I told him all about Kelsey and how I had no way to make up for hurting her.

  Leaning back in my chair, I wish desperately for a drink. It might wash the bitterness in my voice away as I recount the events of the past weekend. Even Eli’s whiskey-colored eyes widen when I bite out, “I don’t know if she left the fucking badge for me to find or if it was an accident.”

  “Jesus, Ry. Is there a chance she didn’t recognize you?”

  “Not when I introduced myself.” My voice is pure acid.

  Eli winces. “Ouch.”

  I stand, trying to end our conversation. “In the meanwhile, I have about three hundred pages of contracts to review before lunch.”

  He stands as well. “Let me know what you find out.”

  Somehow, I don’t think he means about the contracts. And yet, I can’t be irritated with the nosy bastard. A wave of affection washes over me as he makes his way out of the executive conference room. Eli’s just too used to the rest of the Boudreauxs poking their noses into each other’s business. He can’t help himself now that Kate’s softened the armor he used to wear. Before that, he used to bitch about his family’s constant “nosy interventions” when we’d grab a quick beer in the Quarter on the rare occasion either of us would leave the office.

  I spent the whole flight home trying to find the right words so I could contact Kee—Kelsey—through her publisher. But the apology I owe is to Kelsey Kennedy, not Kee Long. And being a damn lawyer, I know the layers of protection she likely went through to establish her alter ego.

  Fuck, I don’t have time for this right now. Snatching up my laptop, I make my way to my own office. I feel a perverse pleasure when the heads of my employees sink in their chairs a little as I storm past.

  This situation is a monumental disaster that’s ready to explode. It would have cost Bayou Enterprises millions of dollars to European regulators within the first month. “You all have two hours and forty-five minutes,” I bark out just before I slam the door to my office.

  Then again,
so do I. Flinging myself into a chair, I boot up my desktop, still not connecting my laptop to the network. Pulling up a classified proposal Bayou Enterprises is bidding on with the US government, I begin to read. Logically speaking, it’s an easy way to eliminate a large portion of the legal pool as only people with certain levels of clearance have access to this network.

  Twenty pages in, I spot the first issue. It’s insignificant, but it’s enough to keep me reading.

  Thirty-two pages in, I scoot closer as I review the list of the key personnel that pops up. “That’s not right. Jesus, none of those people are US persons. They’d laugh us out of the room.” I slam a fist against the table in frustration

  Thirty-nine pages in, my eyes widen comically when the price sheet scrolls past. “Holy shit,” I breathe. Blindly, I reach for my phone.

  “Mr. Boudreaux’s office. How may I help you?” Eli’s secretary, Miss Carter, answers.

  “It’s Perrault. I need him. Now.” I know I’m one of the few people who can call and have Eli interrupted.

  “Certainly, Mr. Perrault. Please stand by.” There’s a moment of silence before Eli picks up.

  “That was quick.”

  My anger is far from being under control. So, it’s a surprise when my words come out so calmly. “Call Kate. It’s a confirmed insider threat.”

  I hear Eli’s muted curse, right before I hang up on him and move on to the next contract. But I do shut down my laptop.

  Kate’s going to need it as evidence.

  * * *

  “I need a drink. A big one. Maybe with a little parasol in it to help me forget about this day.” A heavy glass is plunked down in front of me. Without even opening my eyes, I lift it to my lips. Smooth bourbon slides down the back of my throat. “Or this. This helps.”

  “I thought it might.” My sister, Lisa, moves around to drop down next to me on the leather sofa in my living room.

  I was at work for fifteen hours, and I honestly didn’t know how I was going to make it home before I called her. It’s after 11:00 p.m., and I’m finally starting to wind down from the shitshow that’s been going on all day.

  But it’s over.

  Kate Boudreaux and her team were able to track down the perpetrator to a paralegal who had access to all of the modified files and—under intense questioning—was unable to account for how they paid for their new Audi on the salary that Bayou Enterprises provided; while not unsubstantial, it does not account for a new six-figure car.

  Once Nancy began to crumble, the entire story came out. “It started as a way to get money for Jimmy,” she sobbed. Nancy assumed responsibility for her college-age brother when their parents passed on last year. “I just wanted him to finish school without any worries.”

  While everyone in the room might have felt sympathy over her plight—God, look at what I did to protect my sister—we also would have all paid the price. And so did Nancy. First, with her job. Second, by knowing her national security clearance was being revoked and her likelihood of ever working in a position of public trust would never occur again.

  And that’s if the Boudreauxs decide not to push forward with pressing charges.

  “What a fucking mess this week has been.” I drain the glass before I set it on the table next to me. Rolling my head to meet my sister’s worried eyes head-on, I smile briefly. “Thanks for picking me up.”

  “Because it’s so hard to pick up my big brother who lets me live with him rent-free while I get my degree at Tulane. A degree he’s footing the bill for.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “You could let me get a job!”

  I frown at my sister. “You know they don’t like students to work. Besides, you love volunteering. And didn’t you agree that will look better in the long term for your resume?”

  Taking a sip of her drink, Lisa makes a snuffing sound into her glass. “What did I ever do to deserve a brother as awesome as you?”

  Immediately, my mind flashes back to the moment in Savannah when I realized Kee and Kelsey were the same. “I’m pretty certain there are people out there who would disagree with you.”

  Lisa finishes before she leans forward and puts her glass down with a sharp clink. “Then, they don’t know you—not the way I do.”

  A faint smile crosses my lips as I tug at the long braid hanging down her back. “Few do.”

  “I’m serious, Ry.”

  “So am I. Most people don’t know I was ten when I stopped trying to eat my boogers.” My voice is bland, even as I’m shaking in an attempt to keep my mirth in. Let’s face it, boys do gross shit. And I did more than my fair share.

  Lisa makes a gagging face. “Seriously, I didn’t need to be reminded of that. I thought Mom was going to faint when I finally ratted your ass out.”

  “I appreciate that—now. Back then? Not so much. You forced her to take my on-the-go snack away.” We last about point two seconds before we’re a heaping mess of hilarity.

  And this right here is all the repayment I need—a sister who is happy, healthy, and whole. I was a monumental fuckup at eighteen to help to protect her from the kind of things that would have scarred this loveliness.

  Permanently.

  I want the chance to thank Kelsey for helping me give her that before I shake her for her duplicity.

  Chapter 8

  Kelsey

  “It doesn’t matter what you say to me,” I read aloud. “I know what’s inside of me. And one day, you’re going to regret everything. Give me enough time, and I will figure out a way to make you pay back every tear.” Good, I muse. Setting up that inner core of my character Pilar is always such a rush. When I started writing the series based loosely on the emotions I felt at Forsyth, I paid homage the main character’s name from my favorite Hemingway novel, For Whom the Bell Tolls, and named Pilar after her.

  Fondly, I reach over and stroke the worn copy I’ve had since my freshman-year honor’s literature class. Ernest Hemingway’s story of war, loyalty, beauty, and love are interspersed with some of the most memorable quotes that have stuck in my mind about the perception of human nature. After all, Hemingway said it best when he said that if we win here, we win everywhere. And throughout my pages, I have Pilar triumph one brutal day at a time over the bullies that make her life a living hell at the private school her parents sent her to because they don’t have time for her in their lives.

  Tilting my head left and right, I release the pressure gathering at the base of my neck. As joints pop, I know mentally I could go for another couple of hours, but my body is protesting mightily—like it’s going to revolt if I don’t step away from the keyboard.

  I’ve been writing nonstop the last three days since I got back to Angel’s from the reunion. I’d be more concerned about things like dehydration, except for the fact Angel’s house has a full water filtration system, so I can go to any tap to fill my water bottle. It’s also why the mad scientist who created protein bars retired long ago on the proceeds from his or her stock sales.

  I have a deadline coming up, but I’m well ahead of the curve to meet it. I get in these moods where all the words want to vomit out of my head and my heart. I keep going until I run out of juice, or the character’s worn the same outfit for a while and is probably pretty rank. Much like I’m beginning to feel.

  Saving the file in three separate locations, I strip my clothes and head for the shower. I’m too gross even to contemplate working out before I clean up. That’s when you know it’s bad. When you’re too disgusting to go sweat, I think ruefully. I scrub my scalp hard, my nails feeling amazing as they cause the suds to get thicker and thicker. I duck my head under the water as days of ick slip away.

  A knock at my bathroom door startles me. “Yeah?” I call out.

  “You’re alive!” Angel pokes her head inside.

  Ducking mine around the shower curtain, I give her a wink. “And I’m starving. Do we have any yogurt?”

  “Bleeeech! You’re coming out of a
three-day self-imposed liquid diet and you’re asking for yogurt?”

  “That’s not entirely true,” I protest as I yank the curtain closed even as Angel shuts the door behind her as she steps inside. After years of living together, I know she’s just waiting for me to keep talking. “I had protein bars.”

  The shower curtain is yanked completely back, exposing my naked body. “Hey!” I protest. I’m not ashamed of my nudity the way I used to be, but seriously? I start laughing.

  “I’m pregnant, I’m hangry, and I’m craving sugar. Therefore as my best friend, you need to be hangry with me, not laughing. And not looking so…so…”

  “Wet?” I suggest. Quickly I turn off the shower that’s spraying us both with water. I twist up my hair in a towel before reaching for one to wrap around my body. Just as I step out, I hear Angel bark out a wicked laugh.

  “Certainly not by me. Besides, I thought you were done with that kind of stuff in Savannah,” she taunts.

  Shaking my head, I step up to the mirror. Angel has lowered herself to the toilet to watch while I dry off and quickly blow the dampness out my hair, leaving to the rest to air-dry in loose curls around my shoulders. “You’re still here?” I tease.

  “I’m needy today. Let’s do something. I want to go somewhere.” With school out for the summer, if Angel’s not volunteering, then she’s at home.

  I reach over and pat her stomach. “Are you okay to walk around with Lucy?”

  “Right as rain.” She lays her hand on the side of mine. We both jump when her daughter kicks us.

  “She’s strong,” I murmur, smoothing a hand over her stomach, feeling the little ripples under my hand.

  “I know. Just a few more months and we can hold her.” Angel lays her hand on top of my own. We both mist up a little.

  “Okay!” I declare. “Enough mush. Let’s go out walking, and then let’s do something we haven’t done in forever.”