Hard Fought (A Stepbrother Warriors Novel) (14 page)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Now that I'm not constantly tipsy around William, I can see
what a bore he really is, but I smile politely as he tells me about the best
meals he's ever had. It's a long list, and about halfway through, he places his
hand on mine. I glance over his shoulder at Carter, who is seated at another
table. He frowns at me, and I glare back.

He's the one who thought it would be a good idea for me to
see William again. At first I thought he was crazy, but William is the only
person who seems to know anything about my father's secretive business deal and
is willing to talk about it. If I could just steer the conversation there...

"Didn't you say you'd had an excellent meal in Puerto
Vallarta?" I ask brightly.

"Did I? I don't think so," he replies.

"Huh. I thought you said something about being in
Mexico with my father..."

"Oh, maybe I must have been talking about Francis. He's
the one handling the banking details for the Mexican deal for your father. All
that offshore stuff has been complicated, to say the least."

"That's right. It was Francis."

"I shouldn't have been telling you about it. And
Francis really shouldn't have told me. We're supposed to keep it top
secret."

"My father tells me everything," I lie. "He's
finally realized he's not going to live forever, and he's been letting me in on
some aspects of the business to see if I might be the one to take over
someday."

"Really?" William asks. "When were you going
to—"

"He swore me to secrecy," I say, trying to keep
all the lies straight. "And I think business is so boring. But I'm just
trying to keep him happy!" William smiles, satiated. I know he likes to
think of himself as the smart professional in our relationship. "I'm glad
the Mexican deal is going so well, though," I add.

"It's certainly making him a fortune. Or another
fortune, I should say. I don't think I'd have the stomach for it."

"Right. It has been tough," I hazard.

"How are you all dealing with it?" I freeze, and
take a sip of my water to buy myself some time. I'm not sure what he's talking
about, but I'll have to take a guess.

"It's certainly been a lot of pressure," I say
slowly.

"A lot of pressure?" he laughs. "You take it
a lot better than I would. I mean, your father's risking your life, your
family's lives, for a deal with the devil. I have to admit I've been looking
over my shoulder a bit lately. I'm even grateful for G.I. Joe's presence back
there," he says, gesturing back to Carter.

What the fuck?
"A deal with the devil?" I
repeat coolly, not betraying my inner alarm. "Don't you think that's
putting it a bit extremely?"

"Extremely? The last mayor of Tampico called for the
cartels to have a temporary ceasefire for a holiday, and Arana Federation
firebombed his office."

My mouth goes dry. "True," I squeak out.

"And those are the people your father has on his side.
For my money, I think El Nuevo Muerto is worse. Going after your enemies'
children is twisted."

"But there is such a big upside..." I hazard. I
mean, there must be.

"Sure. Without paying El Nuevo Muerto a tariff on all
of Burke Shipping's imports he's saving millions of dollars, but I wouldn't
want to make an enemy of them."

"But the Arana Federation is on his side," I say,
trying to follow along. I almost understand what's going on, but something
still hasn't quite clicked.

"Sure, with his monetary support they've been able to
secure the ports, but they're not providing protection up here. That's all on
him. They couldn't care either way about Ray, or his family." He stares at
me for a moment. "Sorry to be so blunt about it."

"No, not at all," I say, the pieces finally
shifting together in my brain. I've gotten all I needed. "Now it's my
turn. I'm afraid I can't go to London with you. In fact, I think we should stop
seeing each other altogether. I'm not just some pretty accessory that you get
to bring out for fancy parties. I want more for myself than that. I deserve
more."

I stand up, leaving William with his mouth hanging open. I
make eye contact with Carter and give a quick nod to the door. He catches up
with me as I pass the hostess stand.

"Well?" he asks.

"I got the information. And broke up with him. Really
quite an efficient use of time."

"So what did he say?"

"Give me a second. I have to straighten it all out in
my brain." I close my eyes as we take the elevator down to the basement
garage. Carter remains silent, letting me make the connections I need to. As he
starts the car engine, I quickly google Tampico, then turn to him and place my
hands in my lap.

"OK, here's what I think is going on. Burke was
shipping into ports on the Western coast of Mexico, which is largely controlled
by a cartel called El Nuevo Muerto, though another one called the Arana
Federation is making inroads. El Nuevo Muerto demands a tariff of the companies
that ship into the ports they control, which can reach into the millions of
dollars. My father was tired of paying them, so he started giving support,
money I assume, to the Arana Federation, on the condition that if they gained
control of the ports, Burke Shipping wouldn't have to pay a tariff."

"And the Arana Federation got control, and now your
father is saving the company millions."

"Except he did it by making an enemy of El Nuevo
Muerto, which is why he's been stepping up security."

Carter takes a deep breath. "So your father got in the
middle of a war between two Mexican cartels to save some money."

"To save millions of dollars," I point out.
"Though since he's already worth billions, it hardly seems worth it. And
there's one more thing."

"I don't know if I can take anything else."

"William said El Nuevo Muerto has a habit of going after
their enemies' children."

"So we were right about Bree...it wasn't an
accident," he mutters, his jaw muscles twitching with tension.

"I'm sorry I ever doubted you. Maybe it was just easier
to believe that it was all in your head rather than seeing that there really
was a specific threat. But it must have made you feel crazy."

"It's alright. Part of me hoped I was crazy because
that would mean you weren't in any real danger."

"So what do we do now?" I ask.

"We have to tell my mom, and Bree and Jack, what's
going on. They have to know so that they can protect themselves better, and
maybe change your father's mind, convince him that the money's not worth
it."

"He'll be furious," I point out. "I'm sure
he's kept this a secret within the family because he doesn't want your mom to
know he has this cutthroat side to him. Not to mention the extremely dim view
the U.S. government would take of his actions. We need to have some solid
evidence so he can't just wriggle out of it."

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" he asks
grimly.

"The tape."

Chapter Twenty-Eight

"I just wish it weren't Roger working," I say,
chewing anxiously on a hangnail.

"Why?" Carter asks through the door.

"He's the nicest one and I feel bad tricking him."

"If I had a quarter for every time one of my fellow
Marines said that," Carter replies sarcastically.

"Shut up!" I retort, punching him in the arm.
"OK, I'm ready," I say, tying a towel around my waist and walking out
into my room. Carter is sitting in one of my armchairs and looks up with a
smile. "You've seen me in a bikini top before," I say, blushing.

"I've seen you in less than that. Doesn't mean I don't
still enjoy it."

"Aren't you nervous at all?" I ask, crossing my
arms.

"The worst that happens here is I get fired. That’s
pretty low-stakes for me, comparatively." He stands and claps his hands
together. "So, after you lie down, wait five minutes. If he comes back
before you get my text—"

"Stall him. What if someone comes back to the office
while you're in there?"

"They take their breaks at the same time every day,
despite the fact that I told them how idiotic that was. Makes it so much easier
for someone to break in."

"Someone like you."

"Exactly," he says with a smile. My insides
contract even though we're in the middle of some serious business. I just can't
help my body's reaction to him. He turns and walks down the steps of the boat
house. I wait a couple minutes, then grab my book and head down to the pool.

I lay down on the lounge chair nearest to the security
center and open my book. We waited until the rest of the family was out and
only Roger was in the center so that he'd have to leave it empty. I glance at
my phone, noting the time, and glance down at the page in front of me.

There's no chance I'll actually be able to read, but I do
turn the page so that it looks like I am. It seems crazy to believe that I
could actually be in danger, with the pool shimmering in front of me, and the
palms blowing gently in the breeze from the ocean. But, the evidence of a real
threat is all around me in my father's stepped-up security.

He never could be satisfied with anything. Burke already
makes billions in revenue. He could have just payed the tariff or decided not
to ship to those Mexican ports at all. That probably would have been the
wisest, and most moral decision, avoiding giving any money to a vicious cartel.
But he probably couldn't stand the thought of any of his competitors getting in
on his business. I'm sure he was able to rationalize funding a cartel until it
seemed like just another savvy business decision.

Lost in thought, I almost let five minutes slip past. I
glance down at my watch. It's time. I take in a deep breath, then let it out in
a blood-curdling scream.

I actually startle myself with the amount of noise I make,
and my shock as I scramble to my feet is real. I look furtively back to the
house. Do I need to scream again? No, here's Roger, hurtling out of the side
door. My eyes widen as I see that he's brandishing a gun, and I shrink back
instinctively.

"I saw a man in a mask, peering over the terrace
there," I say, pointing to the side of the backyard near the ocean.

"Get inside and call Carter," Roger orders me, then
takes out a walkie-talkie. He speaks quickly into it as he hustles in the
direction I pointed in.

I pick up my phone and move toward the house, not wanting to
go all the way inside in case I need to intercept Roger on his way back. I
huddle by the kitchen door. No text from Carter yet. I peer toward the ocean.
One of the security boats has cruised in closer to the shore, though I can no
longer see where Roger is. I glance back toward the end of the house. No sign
of Carter or a text on my phone from him.

Roger's head breaks the top of the terrace as he makes his
way back toward the house. Shit. He can't go back into the security center and
find Carter there. I walk slowly out to meet him, thinking of all the things
that scare me until I'm actually trembling.

"No sign of him. You're sure—" he begins. I throw
myself on him with a wail.

"Oh god, I was so scared," I weep. "I thought
I was going to die!"

He places an awkward hand on my back. "Everything's OK,
now," he murmurs stiffly.

"What if he comes back? There was something so sinister
about him, I could feel it!"

"Have you been drinking at all today?"

"No!" I retort sharply, yanking my head back,
before I remember I'm supposed to be traumatized. "I mean, no, I haven't.
But I guess it's possible that all the extra security around lately has made me
jumpy. Roger, promise you'll protect me!" That last line was probably
overkill, but Roger seems to be genuinely touched.

"Of course I will. You have nothing to worry about, Ms.
Stratton." I hear my phone beep with an incoming text. Carter.

I lean away from Roger and sniffle, wiping at my eyes as
though I've been crying. "Thank you so much, Roger. That really means a
lot to me." I feel a pang of guilt at my deception. "You're such a
kind man," I add.

He clears his throat uncomfortably. "Well, I better get
back."

"Everything OK out here?" Carter says as he comes
sprinting around the side of the house. "I was doing a check of the
neighborhood and heard you on the walkie-talkie."

"Everything's fine," Roger confirms.

"I probably just let my imagination run away with
me," I add, smiling weakly. "So silly of me. Sorry to waste all of
your time."

"Well, just be a little more careful next time,"
Carter says gruffly.

"I said I was sorry," I reply. "I'm going
back to my bedroom to lie down. Carter, please bring me a glass of water. I
feel I'm getting dehydrated," I say archly.

Carter glares at me, and I almost smile. It's a bit fun to
order him around, even if we're only playacting. I turn on my heel as though
I'm in a huff and quickly make it back to my room. I sit on the edge of my bed,
playing with a string coming off the edge of my towel. I hope Carter got what
we needed, though at least we didn't get caught. A few minutes later, I hear
the boat house door open and his footsteps on the stairs.

"Your water, madame," he says with a small bow,
presenting me with a glass of ice water.

"Thank you. I actually am thirsty," I say, taking
a long sip. "You find anything?"

With a grin, Carter produces a thumb drive from his pocket. "I
think this should be it. Let's see," he says, turning to my laptop. He slips
it into the USB port and scrolls through several files. "There, that's the
date that Bree was injured," he says, clicking on the nondescript file.

A Quicktime window pops up and I lean down next to him. The
image is black and white, but surprisingly clear, and shows four different
views of the neighborhood at once. Three are of the street, and one is of the
security entrance. Even before my father upgraded all the security, the
neighborhood association didn't scrimp on safety issues. There's no sign of
Bree, but Carter pauses the film.

"See this car? It was let into the front gate five
minutes ago but is still just driving around. It has the decal to get it past
security, but it seems odd." He presses play again, and soon a young woman
appears in the corner of a screen. She has a hat on, but it looks like it could
be Bree.

"Look!" I gasp, pointing as the car turns so that
it's following Bree. I feel Carter tense beside me as the car speeds up, and
Bree glances behind her. She jumps out of the way as the car guns its engine
toward her, and we can just see her limp body in the corner of the screen as
she lies on the side of the road. "So the car didn't hit her."

"Wait," Carter says, pointing to the passenger
side of the car. A short man gets out and hurries to Bree's inert body, keeping
his head tucked low. He reaches his arm behind him and stops as he looks down
at her, then turns and appears to say something to the driver. Then he hurries
back to the car and it peels out. A moment later, it's pulling back out of the
security gate.

"I'm confused," I admit. "Why'd they just run
her off the road?" Carter doesn't answer, but rewinds the tape to the
moment just before the car speeds up. We watch again as the man comes around
the side of the vehicle. Carter pauses it as he reaches his right arm behind
his back.

"He looks sort of familiar..." I murmur, leaning
close to the screen. The image isn't quite crisp enough to jog my memory.
"You know, I think he's just got one of those faces, doesn't he? The kind
that just blends in. And maybe this sounds stupid, but I thought we were
looking for someone Mexican."

"El Nuevo Muerto wouldn't send one of their own up to a
country where he wouldn't even be a native speaker. He'd stick out like a sore
thumb. I'm sure they outsourced it to someone local. I bet with your father's
connections, he knows someone in law enforcement, and I might be able to run
this image through their databases, see if I can get a name."

"Not that he'd let you use those connections," I
point out. "We're not supposed to know anything about this." I turn
back to the screen. "Why's he reaching behind himself like that?"

"He's going for his gun. I'd recognize that move
anywhere," he says grimly.

"So why doesn't he use it?"

"I don't know... it looks like he's studying her,
doesn't it?" he asks, playing the next few seconds of the tape.

"She's wearing a hat," I murmur, a sinking feeling
in my stomach. "And they came up from behind her. So maybe they thought
she was someone else, and then they realized that they had the wrong
person."

Carter looks up at me. "William said El Nuevo Muerto
targets their enemies' children...Bree had just moved in to the house, so they
probably had no idea who she was. So maybe they were actually looking
for—"

"Me," I say, completing his thought. "They
were looking for me."