8. Gus
Chapter 8
Gus
T his was tense.
Outside, the sun was shining, yet I was stuck inside with a bunch of suits, chasing the ghosts of my father’s bad deeds. The lawyers had advised us to listen and not say much, and they’d emphasize the importance of not agreeing to anything.
I’d na?vely assumed that this was all in the past. Fuck, was I wrong. But though I could handle it—I was hardly the first son to be plagued by the sins of his father—Chloe didn’t deserve this.
Special Agent Bryce Portnoy, who gave off major asshole vibes, led the meeting. He was physically unassuming but acted like he was the smartest person in the room. When he launched into a detailed explanation of the logging industry like Chloe and I hadn’t been involved with it our entire lives, my eye twitched and I had to focus on breathing even to keep from cursing.
“We’re picking up increased trafficking activity across the border, specifically near the St. Zacharie border crossing.”
The legal team had flown in from Seattle two days ago and had been reviewing information with us nonstop since. From what I’d seen so far, not a single one of them slept. Jude joked that they were Twilight vampires. I didn’t get the reference, but JJ and Karl thought he was hilarious.
Karl had kept everyone fed and watered and had even converted the main conference room, which had previously been filled with folding tables and cardboard boxes, into a functional space. I hadn’t quite figured out what his job title was, but he kept Chloe caffeinated, and he was damn good at anticipating her needs and completing any task he was given.
The FBI agents sat on one side of the folding tables we’d pushed together. I sat on the other, flanked by Chloe, Jude, Mark—the accountant Owen had helped us hire—and our lawyers. I’d only been here for thirty minutes, and my tie was already strangling me.
Agent Portnoy droned on, making it sound like Al Capone had been operating under our noses, while our lawyers furiously typed notes.
Why we were rehashing details we’d gone over at least a dozen times with the same federal agents was beyond me. No one here was a criminal mastermind, and my father and several of his associates were already behind bars. I wanted to help, sure, but at some point, we had to move forward and rebuild this business if we wanted to keep this community from tanking.
I wasn’t sure when it had happened, but I’d clearly become part of that we . Since the moment Strategic Timber had made their offer and stipulated that I stay on to help, I’d been resolute—I was here as a run-of-the-mill employee. I’d do my job, then get out. But at some point since Chloe arrived, my perspective had begun to shift. Maybe it was seeing her in action and learning more about her plans and techniques. Or maybe it was that I was a dumbass who could not let go of this company.
So I was invested again. Fuck. I didn’t want to be, but here I was, ready to fight for its future. All over again. And that was dangerous. I’d been burned so badly once before, by my father, and I had spent years trying to heal those wounds.
I’d worshiped my father. Until I didn’t.
He’d always been an ass. But for so long, I’d been blind to it.
He was angry and he could be cruel. He used people for his own ends and didn’t care what kind of destruction he left in his wake.
There were signs, when I was a kid, especially the way he treated Owen, but he’d manipulated me from such a young age that it took me a really long time—till my early thirties really—to understand, to see him for who he really was, and to start to detach.
But a criminal? When the news had first broken, that was a bridge too far.
I didn’t believe it, and I’d even defended him. We’d worked together; I’d been so involved.
But the more I learned, the more it made sense.
Despite how hard I worked, despite proving myself to him over and over again, he and Uncle Paul had kept me at arm’s length. Had kept me from finally stepping in and working side by side with them.
They’d send me out into the woods for weeks at a time rather than giving me a seat at the table.
For a long time, I believed I’d run the company someday.
I knew I’d have to work for it, so I did.
Every skill, license, and certification, I got it.
Dad always pushed me. Go to this trade show . Go learn about this machinery . So I did.
All the while thinking he was making me pay my dues.
But now I knew the truth.
He’d been keeping me on the outside so I didn’t discover his criminal empire. So I didn’t blow the lucrative operation he’d set up.
That gutted me. And I was ashamed of how unaware of it all I’d been.
I’d let my need for validation blind me to what was going on right in front of my face.
It was humiliating.
So I deserved to lose the company. I deserved to take the blame for destroying the family legacy.
Dad did the bad deeds, and I’d made my peace with that now, but it was my own ignorance and lack of critical thinking that made me an accomplice to it.
Each time we met with the feds like this, I was reminded of how little I really knew.
“We’re talking about almost a million acres of wilderness,” I interjected. I was sick of hearing them drone on about all the things we were doing wrong.
“All of which are privately owned,” Chloe added, jumping on my statement. “And our records, as well as the information you’ve shared today, show that we have been completely cooperative and transparent with you.”
Agent Portnoy sneered, as if her statement was ridiculous.
I clenched my fists. I truly despised that fucker. With every fiber of my being. He’d spent a year investigating, each attempt fruitless, until the Gagnons had handed my dad to him on a silver platter.
The Gagnons had made the FBI look like chumps. Parker Harding, who was now engaged to Pascal Gagnon, had single-handedly put it all together and exposed my father. That probably rubbed these G-men the wrong way, but tough shit.
And since the beginning, they’d been little help. We could handle ourselves. These out-of-town suits had no idea what they were dealing with.
To everyone else in this room, Chloe was cool and composed.
But from the tic of her jaw, the way she smoothed her hair, and her shallow breaths, it was obvious to me that she was stressed. Even as she kept her expression neutral, her body was tense. I had the perfect remedy for that, not that she’d even let me touch her. And not that I would want to. Nope, way too messy. I was better off accepting that the bad blood ran way too deep for anything other than basic civility.
Chloe offered a smile, the tension showing a little more than I’m sure she’d like. “While we will, of course, help in any way we can, our understanding is that since Mitchell Hebert was arrested and prosecuted, there is no ongoing investigation.”
Portnoy shook his head. “No, ma’am. That is not quite accurate.”
Beside me, Chloe stiffened.
That ’ s it . That fucker was officially marked for death. No one ma ’ am ed her, especially in the building she owned, and lived.
“We believe the conspiracy extends far beyond Mr. Hebert. Especially after the assault of Hugo Barrett.”
One of our lawyers, a middle-aged guy on the other end of the table, piped up. “The local police investigated that. I didn’t think the FBI concerned itself with assault and battery cases.”
“Given that we believe it’s connected to the larger-scale illegal activity, it’s no longer purely a local concern.”
Aw, fuck. Now I’d be dragged back into all of this. Not that I didn’t feel awful about what had happened to Hugo Barrett—he was a good kid—but random acts of violence did not a drug conspiracy make.
“Mr. Barrett is stable, but in a coma. And local law enforcement has handed over their files. From what we’ve gleaned, he was here meeting with Mr. Hebert”—he nodded at me—“one week before his assault. Is that right?” The agent’s expression was filled with suspicion, as if he really believed I had something to hide.
“Yes. As the regional representative from the Department of Fish and Wildlife, he is our liaison. We met to review plans for the designated protected areas,” I replied calmly. I would not let this mid-level bureaucrat enrage me.
“For the bats,” he said, his tone dubious.
“Yes. For the northern long-eared bat. We’ve worked with DFW for decades. We meet quarterly and review plans, and they conduct site visits several times per year. We have also opened up our land to scientists and students to study the bat habitats and life cycle to aid future conservation efforts.”
“And this meeting was in regard to your company’s bat obligations?”
This was getting absurd. My blood was heating, but I breathed deep and willed myself to keep a level head. “I’ve made official statements to both local and federal law enforcement regarding this,” I grumbled. “And yes, we met to discuss our plans and the protection of the dedicated area.”
“What about David Bertrand?”
“We worked with him for ages, probably more than ten years,” I explained. “But he retired last year, and Barrett took over.” I scratched my beard. “But you know all this.”
Portnoy raised one eyebrow and scribbled in his notepad. I was getting sick of listening to them talk without saying much of anything.
Thankfully, our overpriced legal team was feeling the same way.
“My client has done nothing but cooperate,” Jessica interjected, or was that one Elizabeth? She was in her forties, with a short, dark bob and thick glasses.
Either way, she was not to be fucked with.
She held up a thick binder. “Thousands of documents have been turned over, and we’ve allowed unprecedented physical access. Without search warrants, I may add. And you have interviewed every employee, including Mr. Hebert, here, several times.”
Wearing a snide expression, Portnoy regarded her from across the table. “Of course, but you must realize the position we’re in.”
“And you need to realize the position I’m in,” Chloe said. She’d been mostly silent so far, letting her lawyers talk for her, but her voice was clear and strong. “As a new buyer, having made an eight-figure investment and looking to revitalize the local economy. Surely you understand what I’m trying to accomplish?”
“Yes. But—”
She held up a single manicured finger. “No buts, special agent. We’re here, and we’re cooperating. We have the same goals. No one at this table wants anything illegal occurring on my land or even in this county.”
He nodded.
“So let’s get on with it. I’d like to know what, exactly, you need from us, in detail. In the spirit of partnership, let’s just cut to the chase.”
Portnoy blinked several times, looking chastened. I had to bite my bottom lip to keep from grinning.
God, Chloe was awesome. She knew every detail, could recall specific phrases from the police reports, and was throwing numbers out confidently. She hadn’t just done her homework. She’d mentally digested the last ten years of this company’s business—both legal and illegal—and had made herself an expert.
The way she went back and forth with Portnoy sent a thrill through me. She was an active listener, taking notes, asking questions, and circling back to previous topics when relevant.
I was both annoyed and really impressed.
I’d spent my life working hard for this company, learning and absorbing it all I could, just to be held back by my father.
And that had left scars.
Ones I didn’t even realize I had until Chloe and I had taken the ATVs out and had started tossing ideas around. She listened to me in a way my father never had, and she took my decades of experience seriously.
So as much as I wanted to resent her, as angry as I wanted to be that she was here doing the job I had assumed was my birthright, I didn’t, and I couldn’t be. In fact, I was a little grateful it was her in the hot seat and not me. She was better suited to it, and she was certainly smarter than I was.
I’d spent so much time being angry about losing the company. But what if this was the best possible outcome? Not just for the business, but for me?
Perhaps the freedom I’d gained from the sale was a gift and not the punishment I’d believed it to be. And if that was the case, then what the hell was I going to do with this newfound freedom?