“Randy.”
“Are you sure that’s his name?” Shane presses.
“Yes,” I confirm. “I repeated it to him. It was Randy. Maybe it was a nickname?”
“What did he look like?” Seth asks.
“Tall with dark hair, early forties, I think, and muscular.”
“What nationality?” Shane asks.
I consider a moment, thinking back. “I don’t know, but he might have had a slight accent.”
Neither Shane nor Seth look at each other, nor do their expressions change, but there is a subtle thickening in the air that tells me this news does not please them. “Emily and I need to talk,” Shane says to Seth.
Seth gives a quick nod, and walks away, while Shane leans forward, one hand pressed to the wall just above my head, his big body a barricade creating our little private spot. “What’s the real reason you didn’t call me?”
I am momentarily stunned. “What?”
“You are savvy enough to give me a coded message by phone or text, and I know you know that I would want to hear this news. Why didn’t you do one of those things?”
“I needed some time to convince myself not to cry over a brother who doesn’t deserve my tears and had I heard your voice, I would have.”
Understanding fills his eyes. “The anger comes next, and long after, acceptance.”
“Are you at acceptance?”
“Every time I think I am, I get angry again.”
“Maybe they aren’t exclusive.”
“Maybe they aren’t, but anger is dangerous. Something perhaps my brother—and yours—needs to remember.” Shadows flicker in his eyes and are gone before they’re fully realized, but I still recognize them. I know them as ghosts of what once was, turned to monsters. “Call me next time. Give me the peace of mind to know you’re out of imminent danger.”
“Yes. I will. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” He runs a finger down my cheek. “Be safe. Come on.” He pushes off the wall. “Let’s head upstairs.”
I nod and we walk to the counter where he hands me his father’s drink and he takes Jessica’s, then we start a silent walk through the building lobby, his shadows, and perhaps mine as well, still between us. We’ve just reached the elevator and stepped inside when he turns to face me, breaking the silence. “My father will either cancel that meeting or miraculously move it to another location.”
“But he had me order food and supplies.”
“Because he’s a master game player. He would never dangle something in my face he didn’t want me to know about. He’s too smart for that. He was either testing you or taunting me, looking for a reaction I’m not giving him.”
Looking for a reaction. “He got one from your brother. Just before I came downstairs, Derek showed up at my desk and demanded to see your father, who proceeded to tell me to get rid of him.”
Shane’s lips quirk. “And Derek stormed into my father’s office.”
“Yes. Exactly.”
“Like I said. My father is a master game player and my brother is far more predictable than he knows.”
“I guess that’s a good thing for you.”
“It’s sure to be a bad thing.”
“Who was that this morning, Shane?”
“Someone who doesn’t believe in keeping business in the office,” he says. “But it gave me an excuse to spend the morning studying a certain folder filled with paperwork.”
“And?”
“And it was interesting reading. I’ll tell you about it tonight.” The elevator opens and we step into the hallway, walking toward the door and entering the lobby, where we pause. “I may have to leave for a meeting but I’ll be back to pick you up.” He softens his voice. “We leave together. Okay?”
“Yes,” I say and his eyes linger on mine a moment before he walks away, but I don’t move. I stare after him, and while the idea of leaving with him is a good one, I can’t get past the idea that he’s acting as my bodyguard, any more than I can the tension in the air when I’d told him and Seth about Randy.
Inhaling, I focus on the receptionist, who is looking at me like I’ve just grown two heads. No. She’s looking at me like I just had sex with Shane in the lobby. Straightening my spine, I ignore her and start down the hallway, and I have this strong sense that nothing about my past, or my present, is exactly how it seems.
SHANE
I leave Emily in the lobby of Brandon Enterprises, my stride long as I travel the hallway, tension radiating down my spine with the implications of the unknown security guard whose presence holds dangerous implications. And my mood is too damn dark to find Derek at the end of my path, propped in his doorway, looking ready for a confrontation. At this very moment, I have a very uncharacteristic urge to beat his fucking face in. I pass him by, cutting left toward my office, but he isn’t going to take a hint.
“Shane,” he says, willing me to turn, but now is not the time. I do not have all my ammunition in place, nor do I have the temperament nor the patience to play the manipulation game, that beating him requires in any form that is not literal. I keep moving, setting Jessica’s coffee on her desk without looking at her before entering my office, shutting the door behind me, and crossing to my window where I press my fist against the surface.
I inhale a breath of uncommon rage, which I managed to contain on the elevator ride up, but anger is a beast inside me, created by the beast that is my brother’s greed. The intercom buzzes, and Jessica says, “Seth.”