Stark International: Under My Skin Part 19

"Come on," I say. "I'll tell you on the way."

I share my theory with Jackson and Evelyn as we hurry up the stairs to twenty-seven on our way to Trent's office, and as soon as we reach the landing, Jackson bursts ahead of us.

"s.h.i.t," I say, hurrying to keep up.

Karen, the receptionist, stands as we pa.s.s by, her eyes wide. "What"

"Call Damien," I snap. "Tell him to get down here. And Aiden, too."

I glance at Evelyn as we both pick up our pace. I want to hear what Trent has to say for himself. More than that, though, I'm a little afraid that Jackson is going to pummel him into dust before I get there.

The truth is, my theory is only a theory, sparked by the idea that the resorts really are duelingfighting it out, and playing dirty. I'm betting that whoever is developing Lost Tides has a chip on their shoulder against Stark Internationaland that they recruited insiders to do their dirty work. Trent, who was p.i.s.sed off he lost out on managing Cortez. And Nathan Dean, who wanted a shot at designing the resort and wasn't even in the running.

Part of me hopes that I'm wrong, even though that would mean that we're left with a mystery.

But most of me knows that I'm not.

"You son of a b.i.t.c.h." Jackson's snarl fills the hall, followed by a loud crash. I burst into the room to see that Jackson has Trent up against a bookshelf that obviously got rattled during the impact, sending books and knickknacks tumbling. Jackson's arm is tight against Trent's throat, and Trent looks as if he's about to p.i.s.s himself from fear.

"Jackson!" His name is ripped from me. Not because I'm afraid he's going to hurt Trent, but because I'm so d.a.m.ned on edge about the murder investigation, and any flash of temper could bite him in the a.s.s.

Aiden Ward, the vice president in charge of the real estate division and both my and Trent's immediate supervisor, hurries into the room. "Let him go." The words are clipped, Aiden's British accent more p.r.o.nounced in anger.

Jackson ignores him. "Is it true?" he asks, getting right in Trent's face. "Are you f.u.c.king with my resort?"

Aiden looks at me. "What the h.e.l.l?"

But I don't have to answer. Trent's doing that for us. "It got out of control. I never meant for itand the vandalism on the islandI swear that wasn't me."

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l," Aiden says. Apparently all the pieces have fallen in place for him, too.

"Let him go," I say to Jackson, only my voice is softer than Aiden's was. A little sad, even.

Jackson hesitates, but he complies. Even so, he's taut as a wire and practically vibrating with energy. He wants to beat the s.h.i.t out of Trentthat much is obvious. Honestly, I understand the feeling.

"You're a f.u.c.king lunatic," Trent snaps, rubbing his throat. "I bet you did kill that a.s.shole. Christ, you practically killed me."

"Don't make me regret that I didn't." Jackson's voice is low and very dangerous.

Behind us, pretty much the entire department has gathered in the doorway. Beside me, Evelyn shifts, and I know that she's thinking what has already crossed my mindif anyone who's witnessed this scene tells the police, it's not going to look good for Jackson.

I tell myself they won't. They're loyal to Stark. To the project.

And I tell myself there's not a d.a.m.n thing I can do about it right now, anyway. Right now, I just need to focus on this.

I draw a breath. "Are you the developer? Is Lost Tides yours?"

He shakes his head. "Nono, they came to me. They knew I got pa.s.sed over, andwell, they came to me."

"Who?" Aiden asks.

"The development team. But Roger Calloway's the main guy."

"I know that name," Jackson says, looking at me. But I just shake my head. There's something familiar about that name for me, too, but I can't place it at all. I look at Trent. "Who's Roger Calloway?"

But it's not Trent who answers. It's Damien, who has arrived and is striding into the room. "Calloway was one of the players in the Brighton Consortium," he says, and another piece clicks into place.

The Brighton Consortium was an Atlanta land development deal that I was actually working on through my old boss back when Jackson and I first met. It was also the deal that went completely south after Damien s.n.a.t.c.hed up a huge amount of acreage, ensuring that the project couldn't be completed. Jackson had been p.i.s.sed as h.e.l.l at his half-brother, and had only recently learned that the consortium's investors were about to be buried in all sorts of fraud and racketeering allegations. Damien's Hail Mary ploy had saved Jackson's a.s.snot to mention all the others who were about to get burned.

But now I can't help wonder if maybe Calloway didn't know that, either. And maybe he's been thinking of Lost Tides as a way to get back at Damien. And the sabotage as a way to ensure that Cortez floundered.

Honestly, though, I don't give a f.u.c.k about Calloway's motive. All I want is for the sabotage against Cortez to stop.

"Talk," Damien says.

"IHe got Nathan on board, first. And that's aboveboard, honest. Nathan learned what I was doing, but never did anything himself. Nothing but work on the plans."

"But you did," Damien says.

Trent nods. "Calloway wanted details on design, vendors, marketing plans."

"He wanted you to spy for them," I say.

He nods.

"They had you hack the security feed. Leak emails. All of that?" Aiden's voice is harsh. Demanding.

"Most of it. But I told them a few weeks ago that I'd had enough. And the vandalism on the islandI didn't have anything to do with that. I swear. They must have hired someone to go in and"

"That's enough," Damien says. He turns to face me and Aiden and Jackson, as well as everyone who stands behind us, still lingering in the doorway. "Go on. I'm going to speak to Mr. Leiter alone."

Trent looks a little sick, but he doesn't protest.

I look at Jackson, and he nods. He looks exhausted, but I can't help but think that he also looks relieved.

When we're out in the hallway, with the door to Trent's office shut behind me, he confirms that a.s.sessment. "It's f.u.c.ked up," he says. "But at least we have an answer now." He drags his fingers through his hair. "It's more closure than I have in my life, that's for d.a.m.n sure." He looks at me. "I'll see you later. I'm going to go back to work."

He brushes a kiss over my cheek, but before he can walk away, Evelyn stops him. "I hate to be the bearer of more bad news, but I didn't get to finish telling you everything before our dramatic interruption."

I catch Jackson's eye, and I can see that he looks just as uneasy as I feel.

"Bad news?" he asks.

"Well, it's not good. I don't have confirmation, but rumor is that another production company is courting Graham Elliott, and he's still keen on making the movie. I'm sorry."

"Wait. What?" Jackson asks, as if he can't quite make sense of her words.

"The movie," Evelyn repeats. "Reed may be dead, but I'm afraid the movie isn't."

eighteen.

"I can't believe it," Ca.s.s says Friday morning. She's come downtown because Siobhan has a job interview at the Museum of Contemporary Art, which is just a stone's throw from Stark Tower. Now we're sitting outside by Java B's coffee cart, sipping lattes and eating chocolate-filled croissants. "I met him once, didn't I? At some work party you dragged me to?"

I've just finished telling her about all the drama with Trent, and I nod. "Last year's Christmas party. He hit on you."

"Oh, right. I let him down easy. Told him it wasn't personal. He just had the wrong equipment."

I hide my grin by taking a huge bite of my croissant. "I actually liked the guy. Maybe if I hadn't, I would have seen it sooner."

"Don't kick yourself. It's hard to see the worst in people. Has Damien strung him up?"

"Fired him. No references. And he called Calloway, too."

"The one who owns Lost Tides and dragged Trent into the whole mess? Would I have loved to be a fly on the wall during that conversation?"

"I know, right?"

"Is Damien making him shut down Lost Tides?"

I shake my head. "Nope. He said he'd let the market decidewhich is fine by me, because Cortez is going to kick serious b.u.t.t. But he also said that if he catches even a whiff of more dirty tricks, he'll string Calloway up by his b.a.l.l.s. And that's pretty much a direct quote."

"And Damien could manage it, too," Ca.s.s says. "Calloway must be p.i.s.sing himself."

"I hope so. The one I feel bad for is Rachel. She really liked Trent, and now she's pretty much destroyed. I called and told her everything last night. I didn't want her to come in and get slammed with gossip unprepared." I make a face. "She's taking the day off."

"So your good deed landed you more extra work?"

I nod. "But that's okay. The busier I am, the less time I have for worrying."

"And Jackson?"

I crumple the bag from my croissant, then hold my coffee in both hands, wanting the warmth. "He's worrying enough for the both of us."

"About what Evelyn told you about the movie?"

"About everything," I say. "But the movie's got the big neon sign over it at the moment. It's like he's having to deal with all of the h.e.l.l of being a suspect, but the upside was that at least the blackmail threat was gone and the movie was a bust."

"And now he's still a suspect and the movie may actually happen, so it's like fate just kicked him in the b.a.l.l.s?"

"That's about it," I admit. On the whole, I think he handled the news pretty well. We'd actually gone to my apartment last night, then spent the evening walking the Third Street Promenade and then all the way down to the pier. After that, we'd watched late night television in bed and fallen asleep in each other's arms. On the one hand, it had felt nice to just be together. But that niceness was colored by worry and frustration.

"I just want a reality that isn't full of drama and uncertainty." I sound whiney and mopey, but since I'm only talking to Ca.s.s, I don't need to try and put on a good face.

Ca.s.s puts her arm around me, and I lean against her. "I know you do. You'll get it."

She says the words firmly, but I don't believe her. Every day, I'm getting more and more scared. Because every day seems to prove the adage that the good never lasts. It just gets swept away with the drama.

h.e.l.l, wasn't that the story of my life? My childhood destroyed by my father.

My romance with Jackson interrupted by my own horrible nightmares.

And now every time we take a step forward in our relationship, we're slapped back. Sabotage. Murder. Even the little victories get ruined. Like yesterday. We solved the riddle of the sabotage, only to learn that the d.a.m.n movie was barreling down on us all over again.

And what really scares me is the pattern. Because if the good is always followed by the bad, then doesn't that mean that I'll inevitably lose Jackson? Either because he ends up behind bars? Or, G.o.d forbid, because we just can't make it work?

I pick at the label on my coffee, frowning. "There's more," I say. "About Ronnie, I mean."

Ca.s.s, who knows me well enough to understand that I've got something major on my mind, turns to face me directly. "I'm listening."

I lick my lips. "Jackson wants me to be Ronnie's guardian if he goes to jail."

"Whoa," Ca.s.s says. "I'm not surprised, though. I mean, he loves you. Who else would he want his daughter to be with?"

"I know. Believe me, I get that. But"

"But you're scared."

"f.u.c.king terrified," I admit.

"Don't be. He's not going to jail."

I make a face. Considering everything that's happened recently, that kind of optimism is nothing more than a plat.i.tude.

"And if he does, I think it's great that she'll be with you. You'll do awesome, Syl. I know you, remember? And I know what you're capable of."

Her words are encouraging, and I cling to them like a lifeline. Ca.s.s had a great relationship with her dad, and I know that she believes that I can do this, and her faith warms me up from the inside. But that warmth doesn't burn away my doubt.

Ca.s.s is watching me closely. "You don't have to be someone else, you know."

I frown. "I don't know what you mean."

"You don't have to be Mommy, or Aunt Sylvia, or whatever it is that she might call you. Just be Sylvia. Just be yourself. You'll be fine."

I lift a shoulder. "Maybe. I don't know. It scares the c.r.a.p out of me."

"I know it does." She puts an arm around me and squeezes. "But it's going to be fine. Is he bringing her out here now?"

I shake my head. "He's thinking about it. He told me last night that he considered bringing her out this weekend, figuring that way he could spend time with her in casewell, in case he's arrested and there's no more time to spend. But then this thing with the movie ramping up happened and he's worried about dumping her into the spotlight."

"Makes sense. Poor Jackson, though."