Author: Roni Loren
“I’m not accepting his business,” Wyatt said flatly.
His father sat up straighter, deep lines digging into his forehead. “You sure as hell will. I’ve already confirmed with him.”
Wyatt took the manila folder from his lap and tossed it onto his father’s desk. “Tell me you’re not laundering money for your clients.”
His dad blinked, once, twice.
Wyatt leaned forward and opened the folder, pointing hard at the report on top, the red circles he’d made around certain transactions. His tone was lethal when he spoke again. “Fucking tell me that you are not putting this company, its employees, your family, and me at risk for goddamned prison.”
“Where’d you get these?”
Wyatt made a disgusted sound. “What the hell does that matter? You thought you could hide it forever? Get your minions to doctor reports before they got to me without me noticing the inconsistencies?”
His dad’s jaw twitched.
“Tell me it isn’t true, Dad. Look me in the fucking face and tell me.”
“Don’t make demands on me, son,” his father said coolly. “Especially when you already know the answer.”
Hearing him admit it was even worse than Wyatt thought. A part of him really had been hoping someone else was responsible. That he hadn’t been so blatantly betrayed by his own father. Wyatt’s temper burned through him, the need to punch something coursing through him. “You put everyone at risk, Dad. Me. I’m your goddamned son! This company is supposed to be mine one day, and you were going to hand me a fucking time bomb? All these years, I’ve been the one to stand by you even when you acted like an asshole. And this is how you were going to reward me? Do you know how much I’ve given up to be this guy for you?”
He scoffed. “How much you’ve give up? I’ve spent my life molding you into who you are, giving you everything you needed to be successful. Without me—”
“I’d probably have a fucking life,” Wyatt finished bitterly. “I wouldn’t be sitting in some office for fourteen hours a day and thinking I’m making some kind of difference, when all I’ve been doing is supporting a sham and criminal.”
His father’s face went full red now, his composure slipping. “Don’t give me some Pollyanna bullshit, Wyatt. This business is a good one and a smart one. You’re naive if you think the other companies aren’t doing the exact same thing. To land the big fish, you have to make some concessions, and helping them wash a little money is a minor one.”
“Launder a little money?” he bit out. “Do you even care where that dirty cash might be coming from? Drugs? Slave trade? Hey, it’s okay if some little girl gets sold into prostitution as long as you get your big client, right?”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
“Ha! Dramatic? You’re lucky I’m not fucking climbing across this desk and shaking you,” he seethed. “I want it stopped. Immediately. We need to drop the clients who don’t want to be completely above board.”
His dad sniffed. “That’d be half my list. Not a fucking chance.”
Wyatt was so disgusted at the off-handed reply and his father’s smugness, he could barely stand to be in the room anymore. All these years, he’d looked to this office like the brass ring, the ultimate sign he’d captured that goal, that his inertia hadn’t been thwarted. But now the idea of it made his skin go cold.
Wyatt rose. “You fix it. Or I’ll blow the whistle.”
His dad shot to his feet. “How can you be so stupid? You do that and we lose everything.”
Wyatt gave his own derisive sniff. “Lucky for me, you’ve taught me how to invest well. I don’t need family money anymore. I’ve got loads of my own.”
“Son—” There was honest fear in his voice now.
“Clean it up. Starting today.” Wyatt walked to the door, grabbing the handle and then looking over his shoulder. “And find another CEO replacement to groom. I’ve got better things to do.”
His father’s eyes went round. “What?”
“I quit.”
Wyatt walked out and didn’t look back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
two weeks later
“You’re giving her space?” Jace asked, plunking the stack of erotic books he’d been organizing for a display on the table next to him. “Why the fuck did you agree to that?”
Wyatt absently flipped through one of the novels Jace had put out, not seeing the words. He couldn’t seem to focus on anything these days. “Because I know how it feels to be on the other end of that request. Mia tried to guilt me into staying with her when I needed out. I refuse to put that pressure on someone else. Maybe we’re not ready for each other.”
“Dude, she’s scared.”
Wyatt gave him a thank-you-Captain-Obvious glare. “Don’t you think I fucking know that? Hell, I’m terrified, too. I don’t know how to have a relationship. Have you seen my track record?”
Jace smirked. “A string of women who probably couldn’t name one personal thing about you except the size of your dick and bank account?”
Wyatt shrugged. “Well, can’t blame them there, both are pretty memorable.”
Jace’s jaw fell in mock amazement. “What? The genius makes a joke? Grab your canned goods, world, the apocalypse is imminent.”
Wyatt threw the book at him, and Jace ducked, letting the thing crash into a shelf of lubricants behind him. Jace looked over his shoulder, laughing. “Clean up, aisle three!”
“I’m being serious,” Wyatt said, smiling despite his statement. It felt good to joke around with his little brother, to not have that tension between them anymore. For the first time in his life, Wyatt felt like he had someone he could truly confide in, someone who had his back. “The only real relationship I was ever in ended up with the girl I cared about killing herself because of me.”
Jace sighed. “Not because of you, bro. People break up every day. More goes into that decision to take your own life than losing your boyfriend. Mia needed help—help a twenty-one-year-old kid wasn’t capable of giving. We all have moments we wish we could go back and handle differently. God, I still don’t know how Evan ever gave me another chance after the stupid ass decisions I made when we were teenagers. Talk about ruining someone’s life.”
Wyatt looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head. “Even if I can convince Kelsey to give things a chance, I can’t give her any guarantees beyond I love her and want it to work.”
“Fuck, that’s all any of us can do. Promise to try and be willing to make sacrifices. Are you willing to do that?”
“Of course.”
Jace eyed him. “Even if that means working less hours and putting something besides work first for a change?”
Wyatt huffed a bitter laugh and walked over to the front counter, sitting on it. “That won’t be a problem. I quit.”
“Sure you did. I really would be stocking up on canned goods if that were true.” He squatted down to pick up the bottles of lube that had rolled to the floor.
“Then grab some corn and peas, brother, because I told Dad to go fuck himself.”
Jace stood, his green eyes wide, his task forgotten. “You’re shitting me.”
Wyatt rubbed the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses, exhausted all of a sudden. “I found out some things on the trip and confronted Dad. Turns out he’s been quietly laundering money for some of his bigger clients for years. He would doctor the reports before they got to me because he knew I’d pick up on it.”
“Holy fuck.”
“I didn’t want to believe it. But not only did he not deny it, he wanted me to take on Andrew Carmichael as a client and do the same for him. Like I’d put my neck on the fucking line and risk prison for that prick.”
“Christ. So you just quit? After all the time you’ve put in there?”
Wyatt released a breath. He thought he’d feel empty walking away from that building, grieve the years he’d put in only to give it all up. But all he’d felt when he stepped out into the sunshine in the middle of a Monday afternoon was . . . freedom. And possibility. The only sadness that had punctured him had been when he’d walked past the Sugarcane Cafe and didn’t see his pretty blonde waitress inside.
“I’m making Dad buy out my portion of the company and clean up his shit. A few of my clients will come with me, and I’ll continue to advise them. But I’m going to put most of my focus on the venture capitalist thing instead.”
“Wow,” Jace said, leaning against the shelf, looking genuinely awed. “So now you have all the time in the world.”
“I don’t even want to admit how many movies I’ve watched in the last two weeks.” Romantic ones to torture himself. Depressing ones to wallow. And blow-’em-up ones to forget all the others. Fucking pathetic.
Jace crossed his arms over his chest, compassion overtaking his normally cocky expression. “Don’t give up on her, man. Go get her.”
Wyatt groaned. “She doesn’t want to be gotten.”
“Bullshit. How many of those movies lining your shelves have you watched where the guy lets the girl he loves walk away? I saw Kelsey at The Ranch this weekend. She looks miserable, dude. This is the time for grand gestures and fucking boom boxes held over your head outside her window.”
Wyatt crossed his arms and gave Jace a come-on-now look.
“What? I love the shit out of that movie. Hated that song he played though.”
“Didn’t you let Evan leave last year?”
He scowled. “I didn’t have a choice at the time. But as soon as she was back in town, you can bet your ass I went full out.”
“And what, pray tell, was your grand gesture?”
Jace shrugged, his eyes sparkling with the apparent memory. “It may or may not have involved illegal use of a cop uniform and breaking a few laws. But it doesn’t matter what mine was because you need to figure out what’s right for Kelsey. Show her what you can give her that no one else can.”
Wyatt scrubbed his hands over his face, wondering if the end of the world really was near because his little brother was starting to make sense. But the thought of Kelsey sad, even for a moment, had his lungs squeezing tight and the wheels of invention turning in his head. He peered over at Jace and hopped off the counter. “Cancel any plans you have this weekend. I’m going to need your help.”
Jace’s grin went wide.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Kelsey set her phone down in the grass, staring at the screen, still not sure she’d heard correctly. The detective who had helped her with the Miller brothers had just called to tell her that Howie Miller wouldn’t bother her anymore. The entire D-Town operation had been exposed over the weekend, including players from the bottom rungs all the way to the top dog—a guy with known ties to a drug trafficking ring in Houston. Apparently, an anonymous citizen had hired top-notch private investigators to track Howie’s steps for the last few weeks and had gotten one of the players to turn against the group and give up vital information. None of the gang would be getting out of prison for a very long time.
She couldn’t even process that good news. She was safe. Safe. She wouldn’t have to leave.
A shadow crossed over the patch of grass she’d been sightlessly staring at, and cowboy boots appeared in her peripheral vision. Kelsey tilted her head up to find Grant eclipsing the sun. He lowered himself, sitting back on his haunches and tilting his hat upward. “They called you.”
She blinked, the statement stunning her. “You did this?”
His mouth lifted at the corner. “Nah, I wish I could take credit for the idea, but I just helped someone get in touch with a few old military buddies of mine. I knew they’d come through, though.”