“I will,” the man said as he gestured for his wife to hold the towel and fished his phone out of his pocket.
“Libby,” an out-of-breath voice called as the body it was attached to moved closer to her. “There’s an ambulance coming. Are you all right?”
“James?” she asked, leaning in to his face and touching his cheek to make sure he was real. “I don’t need an ambulance. I’ll be all right.”
“Well, I think you should get checked out,” he insisted, reaching up and holding her hand on his cheek. “But even if you don’t need one, I can promise you that asshole does.”
“What are you doing here?” she asked, beginning to shake her head in disbelief but stopping when she realized the towel keeping pressure needed to stay put.
“I tracked your phone,” he said, still out of breath. “Jessica came to see me, and I was worried. I was just going to hang back and make sure you were all right, but when I pulled up he had his hands on you, and by the time I was out of my car he was hitting you.”
“I know,” she smiled a misplaced grin that had the woman eyeing her worriedly.
“Shit,” he said, leaning in a little closer. “I think you must have a concussion. You’re out of it.”
“I’m not,” she argued in a whisper. “Find my purse. Don’t let him get to my purse.”
“Trust me,” James grunted. “He’s not going to be using his arms or legs for a while.” He reached around and grabbed her purse off the ground.
“Get in it. There’s a recording. Make sure it’s still working. Make sure it got everything he said. Not that it matters much considering there are cameras out here and all these witnesses saw him hit me, but still. I want people to know what he said, who he really is. He’s not going to weasel his way out of this.”
“My husband knows his boss and the chief of police. This will not go unpunished.” The woman gestured for James to take the towel as she stood and sidled up to her husband.
“You recorded him?” James asked, fishing the small device out of her bag. “You did this on purpose?”
“Not this,” she said, gesturing up to her face. “But I did want him to incriminate himself. I wanted him to admit what he’d done to me. I didn’t know if he’d really be stupid enough to actually hit me out here.”
“That was extremely dangerous, Libby,” James said, brushing her wild hair down. “He could have really hurt you.”
“He’d already really hurt me,” Libby said softly. “This was about me taking back what he stole. I needed to go back to where so much of this started and do what I should done years ago.”
“You didn’t have to do it alone,” James argued, sitting on the pavement beside her. “I know you were upset with me, but I’d have taken care of this for you.”
“You’d have hurt him, scared him, maybe ruined his life, but you couldn’t have done what I just did. I let him ruin his own life. It’s better that way.”
“I didn’t know about your father or anyone else at West Oil who was persuaded to take deals to stay quiet.” James was whispering now as the people who’d been by Libby’s side went to flag down the approaching ambulance. “Arthur Wallace hates me. He’d have said anything if he thought it would hurt me in some way. A lot of people left West Oil angry. Whatever he told you, it wasn’t true. I didn’t try to trick you or play you.” He swallowed hard and cupped her chin with his free hand. “I love you.”
“You don’t,” Libby argued. “I’m on the sidewalk bleeding and that scares you, but it’s not a reason to say you love me.”
“No,” James cut in. “I loved you on that beach in Peru. I loved you at that bar mitzvah in California. I loved you in the break room in the office the first time I met you. It’s not the sidewalk or the blood. It’s just the truth.”
“I love you too,” she replied, her eyes finally in focus again. She leaned toward one side to see Corey lying awkwardly on his back, writhing in pain. “I love you for trying to save your father’s company. I love you for tackling Corey. I love you for showing up.”
“I have absolutely no idea how I’m going to move this company forward, but I know I need you with me. Come back to work. Come back to me, and we’ll figure everything else out together.”
She opened her mouth to answer but was interrupted by the bright light of a flashlight in her face and the instructing orders of an EMT who was now kneeling beside her. “You’ll need to move back, sir,” he commanded James.
“He can’t,” Libby said, grabbing his hand. “He can’t move back. He loves me.”
Chapter 27
James looked down at the small bloodstains on his shirt and wondered whose it was. Corey had certainly bled once he’d gotten hold of him, but Libby had also rested her cut head on his chest. He supposed it didn’t really matter. Any night you end up with a bloody shirt is one you want to be over. But this one couldn’t seem to end.
Libby had been taken to the ER for some tests and stitches. The police had come and taken their statements. Kent showed up and did a fantastic job of getting all the right people involved so when Corey woke up his hands would be chained to his hospital bed. Libby’s plan had worked. He’d ruined his own life and rather quickly.
Mathew had arrived a half hour earlier and was now sitting silently by James in the sterile-smelling waiting room filled with cranky sick and injured people. “You don’t have to stay,” James said for what seemed like the hundredth time.
“Shut up already,” Mathew grunted back. “I’m staying. I want to make sure Libby is all right and you don’t get in any more fights.”
“It wasn’t a fight,” he argued, but Mathew didn’t seem to believe him.
“Whatever you and Libby had going on, it ended, and if she was seeing this guy I’m sure that didn’t sit right with you. I can only imagine—”
James cut in, figuring Mathew deserved the truth. “It was her ex-boyfriend from a few years ago. He used to beat the crap out of her. She was setting him up, goading him into hurting her in public so she could finally get the asshole locked up. And she did it. I knew the guy was back in the picture but didn’t know her plan. I was keeping an eye on her, and when he hit her, I hit him . . . a lot.”
“Oh,” Mathew said, trying to absorb all the information. “I didn’t realize that. Then I’m glad you were there.”
“So am I,” Jessica said as she tried to catch her breath. “I just got your message. Is she all right?” Mathew stood quickly and offered her his chair, but she refused it. “I’m too nervous to sit. I feel like I’m going to jump out of my skin. I can’t believe she got herself back into this.”
“She didn’t,” James corrected. “Well she did, but she did it on purpose. She was playing him.”
“Wow,” Jessica said, propping a hand up on her hip. “I didn’t think she had it in her.”
“Neither did I,” Mathew said, and James could tell he was trying to spark up some kind of deeper conversation with Jessica.
“My aunt’s been calling me all afternoon. I’ve got to go call her back,” James said, standing and insisting the two of them take the empty seats. “I’ll bring back coffee. Libby should be back out in a few minutes then I bet we’ll be out of here.”
“Sounds good,” Mathew said, gesturing again for Jessica to sit, and this time she did.
“I didn’t realize you’d be here,” James heard Jessica say, and he turned back to see her touching Mathew’s arm gently. A smile broke across his face at the idea that these two might actually be into each other.
His excuse to get away wasn’t a lie. Marissa had been calling him for the last few hours, and he knew when he reached her she’d be pissed. But he’d put it off long enough. As he hovered his thumb over the call connect button he considered how bad it would be if he just put this off until tomorrow.
“You did come,” he heard a voice call from over his shoulder as he tried to make his decision. “I didn’t think you had even gotten my messages.”
“Aunt
Marissa?” James asked, trying to make sense of his aunt’s presence and the large tray of food balancing in her hands.
“Here take this bag of clothes up for me. Your dad said he’s starving, but they won’t let him eat yet. I was going to hurry up and devour some of this food before I went back in, but now that you’re here I can eat while you visit with him.”
“He’s awake?” James asked, his voice catching in his throat. “He woke up?”
“You didn’t get my messages?” she asked, looking ghostly white.
“No.”
“Why are you here then?”
“My friend”—he quickly corrected—“my girlfriend, Libby, had an accident. She’s all right.” He didn’t want to go into the long version of the story, and his mind was charging forward too fast to even think about the events of earlier that night. “He’s awake? Is he all right?”
“He still has some facial paralysis. They aren’t sure he’ll regain some of his abilities, like walking. He’s weak, but that’s to be expected. The doctors have been clear, he’ll need an enormous amount of physical therapy, but even with that, he’ll have some major limitations.”
“He’s alive,” James said, not sure if that was a question or a proclamation.
“He’s alive.” Marissa smiled. “And he’s asking for you.”
“I should go up,” he realized, again the words lost somewhere between assertion and question.
“You should,” Marissa answered.
“Can I take Libby?” he asked as though Marissa were some kind of emotional gatekeeper, holding the answers to these delicate questions.
“If having her there will help you,” she said through a smile.
“It will.”
Chapter 28
“I know you probably have questions about what West Oil did and your father’s death—” James started as the elevator climbed its way up.
“James,” Libby chuckled, “I’m not going to talk about any of that with your father. I’m here for you. If you want me to step out, I will. If you want to leave, we’ll leave. If you want me to stay, I will. Nothing else matters.”
“I don’t know what to say to him. We’ve always just argued with each other. The thing is, I don’t want to argue with him right now.”
“So don’t,” Libby said matter-of-factly.
“But then I don’t know what else to say to him.”
“Yes, you do.” Libby sighed, reaching up and stroking his shoulder. “You have a question to ask; I’d say this is a good time to bring it up.”
James hung his head. He knew what she was saying. But that question had lain like a boulder between them for years. Would right now really be the day to roll it aside and finally get answers?
When the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened, he knew Libby was waiting for him to step off, but he didn’t. The door closed again and her eyes were on him. Leaning over, she hit the button that sent the doors sliding back open.
“Ready?” she asked, knowing he wasn’t.
“Of course,” he lied. Down the hall through the third door on the left, just as Marissa had instructed, he found his father. It was exactly what he had feared. The towering, loud, force of a man looked like the shell of his old self. His hospital socks were twisted around funny. His cloth gown was loose around his neck and showed too much of one of his boney shoulders. Machines beeped and the overhead light hummed.
“Dad,” James said softly as he stepped into the room with Libby holding tight to his arm. He couldn’t tell if she was squeezing him or he was squeezing her, but either way it was helping.
“Son,” his father beamed, extending his arms and then groaning in pain as he lowered them. “Sorry. My muscles are sore. Apparently a few weeks in a coma can do that to you.”
“It’s okay,” James said, stepping in a little closer and reaching for a chair in the corner. “This is Libby Saint-Jane. She’s my girlfriend. I hope it’s okay with you that she came up.”
“Boy,” he said with a hearty laugh, “people really do act all funny when you nearly die. I can’t think of a single time you asked me if something you did was all right by me.”
“I just—” James started, but his father laughed again.
“Of course it’s all right. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, nodding his tired head at her. “Holy hell, what happened to her head?”
“Car accident,” she said quickly. “But I’m fine.”
“Were you in a coma for a few weeks?” he asked very seriously.
“No,” she replied cautiously.
“Then I win.”
“What’s the prize? A droopy cheek and some slurred speech?” James asked, and he heard Libby gasp.
“James,” she scolded.
“Ha,” his father bellowed but stopped abruptly when the act of laughing hard seemed to take too much out of him.
“I’m glad you’re here, kid. I wanted to talk to you about the company.” JW tried to pull himself up some but failed.
“Not now, Dad,” James insisted, gesturing for his father to lie back. “You know we’ll just argue, and I don’t want to be responsible for putting you back in a coma.” He felt Libby’s elbow plow into his rib, but he ignored it.
“Yes now,” JW insisted. “Just because I’m awake doesn’t mean I’m better. From the way the doctors explain it I’ve got something hokey in my head that pretty much makes me a ticking time bomb.”
“What?” James asked, but his father waved him off.
“Just sit down and listen. There’s something I want to tell you. Something I should have told you a long time ago.”
James wondered if this would be about Libby and the other people like her who’d been pressured by West Oil to take a bad deal. Clearly he hadn’t recognized Libby from their one meeting five years ago, but there was still a chance this was the topic he’d break into.
“I’m sorry I made you leave after your mother died,” he said quickly as though he might lose his nerve. “It was a mistake. But I want you to understand why I did it.”
“It doesn’t matter, Dad. It’s water under the bridge,” James lied.
“It’s a smelly goddamn sewer under the bridge is what it is. And we need to get rid of the stink. You just sit there and listen.” His father always had a colorful way of speaking, and James was relieved to see, with all the stroke had taken from him, that still remained.
James nodded his agreement as Libby and he sat down in the two chairs by the foot of the hospital bed. She laced her fingers supportively into his and squeezed his hand.
“When I was about sixteen years old my father started West Oil. I always thought of him as exceptionally smart and very business savvy.”
“He was,” James cut in, the urge—no the habit—to argue creeping up.
“Just listen, boy. For once in your stubborn life will you please just listen to me? Let it be out of pity for me being stuck in this hospital bed if it needs to be. But just listen.”
“Okay,” he said simply, dropping his eyes away, glancing instead out the window that looked over the courtyard of the hospital.
“Your grandfather built this company from nothing. Do you know how hard that is?”
James nodded, not wanting to interrupt again.
“It’s damn near impossible. And in his case it proved to be just that. Impossible. Everything he tried to do kept failing. He didn’t have what it took to launch his dream. So he found another way. The wrong way. He sold his soul to the highest bidders and built West Oil on lies, blackmail, and fraud. It was built on the backs of good people who suffered to make him wealthy.”
“What are you talking about?” James asked, unable to bite his tongue. “People loved Granddad.”
“They feared him,” JW answered back coolly. “His power in this community reached deeper than you can ever imagine. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this; I still remember how badly it hurt the day I found out myself. I was nineteen years old, and my father brought me
into his office. I’d been working in the company in one form or another for three years, but he was ready to really bring me into the folds. I was so excited. When he pulled back that curtain, when I saw how this magical place really operated, I was crushed. It got worse when I took on more responsibility and had to make some of those deals and choices myself. It changed me.”
“Why are you telling me all this?” James asked, releasing Libby’s hand and clenching his fists together angrily. He wasn’t directing it at his father, but the revelations were burning at him.
“It’s important that you know the roots of West Oil. Because when I tell you the rest of this it might be the only thing that keeps you from hating me more than you already do.” The sag in his father’s face, brought on by the stroke, seemed to grow worse suddenly.
“I don’t hate you—” James started, but his father waved him off.
“I did everything I could to correct the issues after my father died and the company was mine. I had high hopes to turn West Oil into something more than just a tool used to control and intimidate people. But some of the deals, the agreements, ran deep. My hands were so dirty. I was mixed up in things I couldn’t walk away from. Not without destroying the company and in turn ruining a lot of lives. I figured maybe over time, if I kept working at it, I’d clean it all up, and I came close. But then I was cursed with a son like you.”
James felt Libby tense up at his side, ready to speak, but something made her hesitate. Maybe the same hopefulness James felt in his father’s half smile.
“You were so stubborn. Driven to find out the inner workings of everything so you could improve it. If there was something to get involved in with West Oil, you were there offering up a better idea. A more efficient or effective way to do something. And you were usually right. But what you didn’t know were the binding agreements I was buried under that kept me from making the changes you suggested.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” James asked, clearing his throat quickly, not liking how small his voice had sounded.
The Barrington Billionaires Collection 1 Page 18