24. Holy Fucking Shit Balls, I Found It
24
Holy Fucking Shit Balls, I Found It
GREYSON
Two Armed Attackers Dead After Attempt On Alessandra Hart
“Holy fucking shit balls, I found it.”
Amused, I pried myself away from my work Tuesday morning to raise a brow at Max, where he’d set up camp beside Alice at her desk.
“The transfer wasn’t monetary,” he deduced, shaking his head, “it was purely informational.”
“Those two sentences should not come out of the same human two seconds apart,” I decided, earning a smirk from Alice as her fingers continued to fly across her keyboard.
To our chagrin—but no one’s surprise—news of what happened Friday night had been picked up in the media by the following morning. While Alice had spent the bulk of Saturday notifying her family, she hadn’t seemed even remotely shocked when Leighton, Paxton, and Max materialized in our living room by that afternoon.
Leighton hovered around like a frantic bumblebee, making coffee, filling teapots, compulsively wiping down counters, and making sure Alice ate. She ranted at the top of her lungs about the audacity of psychopathic sycophants before bursting into tears the instant we were alone together and hugging me while sobbing her thanks for saving her.
Paxton was less enthusiastic, as he correctly assumed she wouldn’t have needed saving in the first place had she not married a Hart. He proceeded to interrogate every staff member who crossed his path and every security guard about their credentials—including Jax—and scowled at anyone in her proximity.
Leighton insisted it could be worse and informed me I should be thanking all the powers that be their big brother, Jameson, was out at sea and not able to ship his ‘grumpy ass’ down here.
This was, evidently, Rhodes' crisis protocol. The only reason the rest hadn’t arrived was Alice literally begged them not to and insisted she needed the week of quiet to recover before they all rallied to support Paxton at his first game.
To his credit, Max arrived ready to do actual battle. He began Saturday evening in our living room, did a full weekend sweep of the house to hunt for bugs my ‘suit buddies’ would miss, worked beside us from home yesterday, and was already in Arthur’s back seat by the time Alice and I slid into the car this morning.
My wife was a fucking warrior, more determined than ever to do whatever she had to do to serve not only me and our company but Thunderstrike in their mission to eradicate the fuckers.
I was positive Obsidian had no idea who they’d just unleashed when they made it personal. If scaring the daylights out of her hadn’t been enough, Captain being held for post-op recovery certainly was. The vet had reclassified his condition as “stable but critical,” but assured me they were administering pain meds and antibiotics and watching for any signs of complication or infection. Due to keeping him sedated, we hadn’t been able to see him, but the vet assured us we could visit soon, as our company might aid the healing process.
“Oh, bite me, suit daddy,” Max quipped back, clicking a rapid-fire sequence of keys.
“Maybe later,” I said evenly, leaning back in my chair to see whatever he was about to show us. “What’d you find?”
“Don’t tease me; it’s not kind,” he grumbled before whipping his laptop toward Alice and me like a weapon. “They’re on your server. I mean, the files are encrypted, but?—”
Eyes zipping back and forth over the screen, Alice finished, “These are financial transactions and extensive communications. They…they weren’t just framing Greyson for embezzlement. If Thunderstrike went after Obsidian before these were discovered, he’d be implicated in…” She blew out a heavy breath, and Max picked up where she left off.
“All manner of illegal activities. Beyond the trafficking, there’s money laundering, extortion, and…well, it might be faster to discuss the crimes not on the list.”
“Grey, their counter move was to set you up to take the fall,” Alice said as she scrolled down through the file Max had compiled.
He frowned at me before deducing, “Their attempt on Alice was likely to?—”
“Blackmail me,” I finished. “Into either defunding Thunderstrike or conspiring with Obsidian .” My deduction earned a solemn nod.
“So, what was at the auction that the Gilberts needed?” Alice rubbed at her eyes. Tough as she was, I wasn’t positive she’d actually gotten any sleep over the weekend. Couldn’t blame her—I hadn’t either.
“Reggie,” Max and I answered in unison.
“But you said you found nothing linking him to this,” she pointed out.
“I haven’t,” he agreed.
“Doesn’t mean he’s innocent,” I scoffed, biting back a growl.
“No.” Max shook his head. “What it means is if he’s involved knowingly, he’s covered his trail well.”
“I don’t think he’s that bright,” I huffed. Temper threatening my composure, I straightened, fiddling with a cuff link before I stood, buttoned my jacket, and tidied the lapel. Slowly, I paced around the desks to brace my hands on theirs.
“As much of a monster as I think Reggie is, I agree,” Alice said, reaching forward to settle her hand over mine reassuringly. “But he’s somehow involved. Could it have been an ISMI catcher?”
To me, Max explained, “That’s like a cell phone interceptor. Essentially, they trick phones into thinking they’re towers, so they connect with them, and from there?—”
Cutting him off, I deadpanned, “Yes, I know what they are, thank you.” Like I hadn’t spent my life working toward being a Tier One operator before stepping into the role of CEO in one of the globe’s largest corporate empires. Christ .
“Not just a pretty face. Very good, Mr. Hart.” Max spun his laptop back toward him and narrowed his eyes pensively. “ Perhaps ? That would explain the stupid keyword and where these hooks are planted.”
“Reggie would use our last name backward as a password,” I grumbled, smirking to myself. Maybe I’d go to hell for finding humor in any of this, but it would be worth the satisfaction of knowing the old man was an idiot. Keeping myself focused, I asked, “Got any new names for me?”
“Working to decrypt more data…or rather, my software is in the background at the moment.”
“Thanks, Max.”
“I need to go for a run,” Alice ground out by the time seven o’clock came around that evening. She pressed her palms to her forehead, blinking away what I assumed was the same layer of screen fog I had in my vision, popping her jaw as though she’d clenched it all afternoon.
Tensions had only gotten higher the deeper into the web we spiraled.
“My ass feels bruised,” I groused, leaning into my chair to stretch my sore back. As though our agendas weren’t already at their maximum capacity, every would-be break was filled with updates from Max and Jackson or a file that Alice wanted me to review with her.
We’d barely consumed any calories, and those we had gotten down were entirely to my assistant’s credit. Paul surreptitiously slid into the room during a conference call and set thirty-two-ounce protein shakes in front of all three of us before slipping back out the door and closing it behind him.
As it turned out, Alice got exceedingly cranky subsisting on coffee and smoothies alone.
“My eyes feel bruised,” Max muttered from where he was lying on my office floor with his arms draped over his face, dark hair fanning out like we’d electrocuted him. He’d compulsively run his fingers through it as our findings worsened, and I was fairly certain he’d managed to rub all the product out with his irritation.
“El swears by kickboxing,” Alice noted, voice distorted by the extension of her throat as she leaned her head onto the back of her chair with her eyes closed. “But I just want to run the beach until I hit the cliffs.”
My heart sank.
The glaring now-yellow and deep purple splotches on her arm had me grinding my teeth all day—a reminder of why we were bruising our asses until we could ensure a resolution.
What we needed was an inter-department sting spanning at least two states, but very likely three or four. Luckily for me, coordinating that fell on Jackson’s plate. Even then…would I ever not panic at the idea of Alice out alone after a call that close? In current circumstances, that privilege would entail bringing a handful of security with her, which she would hate .
My fault. This need for security. This crushing sense of confinement she’d never signed up for. I’d plucked a girl from her free-range life in the Mistyvale mountains of a remote Alaskan island and put her in a cage. How long would it be before she hated me for it?
Gears churning, I thumbed through my mental files for a solution—something secure that would still let her blow off steam. As I studied the muscle definition in her bruised arms, I sat up straighter. Why did every Rhodes I’d met thus far look like they could knock a motherfucker out? I guess Paxton wasn’t the only one born to be an athlete.
A plan began to solidify in my mind, a smile gradually creeping across my face as it did.
Okay. Not every aspect of being a Hart was a burden. As a matter of fact, it bought us some pretty cool privileges from time to time.
“I have a better idea.”
Alice
My face hurt . As in, physically hurt from laughing so much.
Reasoning that the team was rarely in the training facility after about six, Greyson took full advantage of our status as owner, and the family—minus Max, who had no interest in sweating while the case was unsolved—convened on the indoor field after another smoothie for dinner.
Paxton brought Dallas, both still in their gear from training and what started as make-shift drills rapidly disintegrated into a chaotic game of tag when Ollie and the kids showed up.
“That’s cheating !!” Leighton screeched as she sprinted, hips first, for the end zone, only for Ollie to ‘tag’ her long ponytail. “Hair doesn’t count.”
“Better than your ass,” I mumbled, bending over to brace myself on my knees and catch my breath.
Play . Grey had realized what I needed wasn’t to sprint headstrong in the opposite direction of our problems. It was to play. Maybe having the family in town for a few days wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all. They helped me unwind like only siblings could.
“We need those red football tape things,” she panted petulantly. “The Velcro screechy belt things.”
“Flags?” Ollie asked, grinning like a child as he sucked down air, hands on his hips as he walked in a circle.
“Flags!” Leighton growled enthusiastically. “Yes, flag football! Duh. I need them,” she demanded, snapping her fingers like a genie would appear to grant her request.
“We don’t play with flags. We’re not children,” Paxton scolded as he sidled up between his two team owners. His statement was ironically punctuated by Dallas unceremoniously pegging him in the side of the face with a foam ball.
“ No concussing the quarterback ,” Greyson complained to a round of laughter as Pax nailed a fleeing Dallas in the back of the head with said ball. “Or any of the fucking merchandise,” he grumbled. It was adorably forlorn.
“ Boys ,” I sighed theatrically.
“Man-children,” he countered. “I pay millions of dollars a year to a seven-foot-tall fleet of man children.”
“I think our tallest player is six foot seven,” I pointed out, my knowledge on the subject sending his and Ollie’s brows arching. I shrugged, “Seemed like something an owner’s wife should know.”
“Most of the wives know nothing.”
“They don’t have brothers on the field,” Pax pointed out, grinning as he looped a sweaty arm around my shoulders.
“True,” Greyson said snootily, flashing a proud smile down at me. The man was spectacularly good-looking. How I’d ever worked three feet from him under the delusion he was nothing but a heartless cyborg, I would never understand. Choleric? Sure. Could he probably practice affirming his employees a bit more frequently so they didn’t constantly think they weren’t doing enough? Probably. But Captain Hartless possessed one of the most heroic hearts I’d ever seen under all the pretense of being Emerald Bay’s Titan.
Hair disheveled, sweat gleaming across his tan, bare chest, a rare smile on his face, Greyson truly was the living embodiment of Adonis, a reigning immortal trapped among laymen. My Adonis. I yearned to trail my fingers through that glorious smattering of chest hair, to slip under the loose band of his gym pants and cup that god-sized weapon he loved destroying me with.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Greyson murmured as he snaked an arm around my waist, pulling me into him and startling me out of my pathetic ogling. The others had dispersed to the bench for a water break, and I’d been so trained on him that I hadn’t noticed. “You’ll make me do something the media would absolutely love to get their hands on.”
“Oh yeah?” I teased, rising on my tiptoes to steal a kiss but wincing when I went to wrap my arms around his neck. Concern flickered in his eyes, but he did his best to conceal it, to keep playing. God, I loved the man.
“Yeah.”
“Like what?”
“Like fucking you right here on this field until our knees are raw.”
“Might cause quite a tizzy,” I agreed, glancing around at the security he had stationed throughout the enormous arena.
“Or commandeering the locker room and bending you over every solid surface until you’re screaming my name.”
“Nothing says team spirit like a raw throat.”
“ Mmmm ,” he purred, smile giving way to feline satisfaction.
“Thinking about my throat?” I guessed knowingly.
“And the way you smile around my cock when you’re looking up at me.”
“Dirty man,” I teased.
“Filthy,” he agreed before crashing his lips to mine. When he finally pulled back to take a breath, he studied me intently. “Feeling better?”
I released all the air in my lungs with the same level of enthusiasm as the tension he’d eradicated from my body with our field trip. “Yes,” I sighed contentedly. “Much, thanks to you.”
“Least I could do,” he assured before silencing any remaining worries with another kiss.
By the time our limo was crossing the Emerald Bay Bridge toward home, he was putting those lips to an even better use.
I’d just straightened my shirt and hair when we pulled up to the Hart House gate with an unexpected visitor outside it.
Arthur pulled the car safely onto the driveway before rolling to a stop so Grey and I could open the doors and greet Miranda, where she stood with mascara-streaked cheeks, hovering uncertainly by the gate.
“Come in,” I yelped, rushing for her. She gave a shuddering sob, collapsing into my open arms. “Sweetie, what happened ?”
“You—I— two of them ?! Oh my god, I just heard. With daggers ?! Royce says Cap is in the hospital, and you—” Her hysterics cracked in two as she studied me with tears streaming down her cheeks. Stunned, I just held onto her as she commenced our awkward, over-belly hug.
She was breaking down over me ?!
“Miranda?” I questioned. She frenetically disentangled our limbs before wiping at her face, lips still trembling.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—I just—you’re okay?”
“I’m okay,” I assured, feeling like the biggest pile of shit on the planet for not calling her. “We tried to keep it from the media, but you know how that goes.”
“Bloodthirsty savages,” she sobbed.
“With police blotters, evidently.”
“I’m so sorry, honey. So, so sorry.”
I chuckled morbidly. “It’s not your fault.”
“You’re just so wonderful, and you don’t deserve any of this and?—”
“Woah there, hormones,” I teased. “I’m okay.”
“Really?” she asked, looking me over like she didn’t believe me.
“I mean, no ,” I admitted, glancing over my shoulder and locking on Grey, swallowing hard before explaining. “But he’s making sure I’ll get there.”
“You should have called,” she said with a sniffle that was just as vicious as a knife to the chest.
“I see that. I’m so sorry. I was on the phone all day with my siblings, and by the time I got through them, I was exhausted, and the story leaked, and then Max showed up.”
“Max is here?!”
“Somewhere. He didn’t cross the bay with us; said he had stuff to take care of.”
“I want to meet him,” she murmured with a little hiccup. Apparently, I sold the man well.
“Come on in,” I offered, but her eyes widened.
“Oh! Not like this,” she clarified, motioning to her face, but then down her entire body. She’d come here in maternity sweatpants and a t-shirt with what appeared to be a coffee stain on it. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” she admitted. “I saw the article, and I was in the car before I could explain it, and then called Royce, and he couldn’t reach Grey, and I just…panicked.”
Was it possible for a heart to mend and break simultaneously? Aside from my siblings and Max, I didn’t really have friends who would bother worrying about me. I mean, I hadn’t ever really had friends . The smart, quiet teacher’s pets rarely do.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t call.”
“You can’t be the one comforting me. That’s not how this works,” she protested.
“I’m not used to having someone to worry about me outside of family,” I admitted anxiously. Vulnerability was about as comfortable as a lemon bath after rolling in rosebushes. “Please come inside. We can make tea?”
But right as she looked between me and Grey, a wolf-whistle sounded from the house, and I spotted Max with Detective Rivera with his arms crossed, looking less than pleased. Max made his way toward us with a laptop under his arm.
“Maybe another time,” Miranda placated, eyeing the leather-clad Lucas where he loomed from the doorway. He looked distinctly pissed off, the more I evaluated him. For a squat little guy, he did brooding hero well.
“Yeah,” I breathed, more disappointed than I should’ve been.
“I’m sorry I just dropped in like this,” she said, finally getting a little volume back in her voice, a hint of color in her cheeks.
“Don’t be,” I countered apologetically, leaning forward to scoop her up. “Thank you for caring.”
“You’d be there for me,” she said without hesitating, and I couldn’t help but smile.
“Yeah. But since you’re here—Miranda, this is my Max. Maxi, this is our friend, Miranda,” I offered as he sidled up beside me, Grey closing the distance as well. They shook hands before we all bid my very pregnant, very teary friend goodnight.
It was only as we were walking away from her toward the house that Max asked, “Do you remember Eric Connely?”
“Noel’s shitbag ex? The Florida senator’s kid? Yeah. I think I do.” Max helped Noel get rid of her stalker boyfriend once and for all after Jameson nearly killed him for laying hands on her. She’d been clever enough to collect all manner of evidence when she realized she was in danger. They’d even taken down the family company’s board of directors—the whole corporation nearly went belly up.
The whole fiasco was kind of hard to forget.
“Detective Rivera here brought us some interesting intel to add to the intrigue. Eric was moved to a low-security facility this week. Coincidental ?”
“Based on your tone, I’m thinking not.”
“You’re thinking correctly. Wanna know who came up in Obsidian ’s list of in-pocket politicians and crooked cops?”
“ No way, ” I breathed as Luke quietly opened the front door for us.
“Daddy Connely is the tree from which that rotten apple fell.”
“I think I need to hear this story,” Greyson said as he locked the door behind us.