Chapter 40
Izzy
It’s been almost a month since the fire. When Lance got out of the hospital, he stayed with me. Lena Goodlove refused to leave Alana’s side until she was forced to go back on tour. But none of us like the idea of Alana staying alone, so Lance’s bedroom has a rotating occupant list between himself, Waverly, and Macie.
I stand in the doorway of Alana’s room. She’s allowed exactly two hours of active thinking a day. And she’s spent an hour and forty-five minutes of it talking with Olivia. Five-year-old Olivia Harper Olympian has the dark hair of her father and light eyes of her mother. I think they played an epic prank on their child, because her initials are O.H.O. I don’t know why I think that’s so funny, but I do.
It’s weird to see one of the richest and most powerful men in the world standing in this two-bedroom apartment with three huge black dogs taking up most of the space.
It’s even weirder that he knows my name. Well, maybe not. Between the wedding cake incident and running into a burning building, plus parts of my ex’s body washing up on various beaches on the East Coast, my street cred is off the charts. I am officially the biggest badass in all of the Four Families.
I probably shouldn’t be in the room, but time with Alana is limited, and I need to speak with her after Hadeon and Olivia leave.
Olivia has that cute little kid voice, like Maria. I think that’s why Alana lets her talk the whole time. Right now, she’s describing some cartoon she watched on a private jet on a trip back from Tokyo. Her dad grabs the nail polish bottle out of her hand and tightens the top as she animatedly exclaims. “And I didn’t think they were going to save the dog, because it was really high and scary.”
Alana leans in, completely enthralled with the story. “What happened?”
Olivia throws her arms up in the air and slams them on the bed, next to Alana’s legs. “They saved the puppy.”
“Thank goodness!” Alana says as she wiggles her toes. The pink and purple nail polish glopped on them makes it almost impossible to tell where her nails end and her toes begin. “I love my pedicure. Very professional.”
Olivia shimmies her shoulders. “I want to be an astronaut, vet, dancer, hacker, nail polish putter-on when I grow up.”
“And you should do all those things.” She motions for Olivia to come closer for a hug. “Do you have any questions about what happened?”
Olivia bites her lower lip. “I didn’t like that you missed my show.”
“I know, sweetheart, but being held at gunpoint was the only reason I would ever miss your show.”
Olivia nods and sighs, “It was a scary day. Maria said someone took her cousin, but Uncle Lance got them back.” Olivia traces little circles on Alana’s arm cast and looks up at Alana. “What would you do if something happened to me?”
Alana’s voice is sweet, very Mary Poppinsish, as she strokes her goddaughter’s head. “My love, I would burn every city to its foundation searching for you. We would be legends for hundreds of years, and generations would laugh about the foolish monster who tried to hurt one of my kids.”
“Do you think they’d make a movie of it?”
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
I believe every word Alana says.
And from the panicked expression on Hadeon’s face, he does too. “Why don’t you start packing up your things? Aunt Alana only has a few more minutes of brain time, and she still needs to talk to the grownups.”
Alana blows a raspberry and objects with a loud “Booo!” Then makes an exasperated frowny face, which makes Olivia giggle and fall over on the bed laughing.
I’m not sure if I should leave, but there’s nowhere else for me to go. And I really need to speak to Alana.
Hadeon pulls a piece of paper from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and holds it out to her. “Penny wants to make you an offer for Grasshopper for forty-five million.”
Alana shakes her head and shoots him a death glare even Nonna would be proud of. “No, the product isn’t ready yet.”
“But you need the money now.”
She does. I’ve seen the finances. Mastodon is holding on by a fraying thread.
Alana goes to cross her arms, but readjusts so her injured arm is on top. “Penny is trying to buy Grasshopper at a discount because she knows it will be cheaper without the product. And because she knows I need the money. But if I hold out two more years, once Quasar is complete, I will start a bidding war and get at least 500 million.” Alana pinches her lips into a frown, but her voice is light. “I know, because that’s exactly what Penny taught me to do.”
Hadeon scrubs his face. “Please let us help you. It could be a loan. We could invest in you. It takes a lot to rattle my wife, and she’s worried. Even Zach and Hannah are concerned. And Hannah hates everyone.”
Alana scoots up on her bed. “God, I wish I had that privilege.”
“To be rich, white, and male?” I say.
Hadeon rolls his eyes—I’m sure he’s heard that every day of his life—but Alana smirks. “The privilege of fucking up and having a support team.”
“You have a team. The Olympians, the Four Families, and half of Hollywood. Why the hell do you keep putting us on the bench?”
“Because I have to do this on my own. You can get rescued, and no one will think you’re weak. If I take help, I’m weak. And weakness means death. And I’ve got too much shit going on to die.”
I wish I didn’t understand, but I do. It’s the same reason why it took me ten years to come home. Help equals weakness. She’s not attached to any family. She’s on her own island. Well-liked, respected, even feared, but she’s an outlier. Not a baby gazelle, but one of those birds who sits on the back of an alligator. Watching everything, slightly protected but weak on its own.
Hadeon sighs, “She knew you wouldn’t take the deal.” From the other side of his jacket, he pulls out another paper. “Go get psychedelic therapy or hypnotherapy or anything. Call the number and get an appointment.” He drops it on the bed. “Or you can always call to talk.”
Alana dips her head and smiles. “Thank you.”
Hadeon crosses the space and puts his lips on her forehead. “Get better. We need you.” He turns to leave, but the dogs freeze. Tiny whines begin as they look up at him. Midge won’t let them pass. “Are you kidding me? You’re killing machines, trained to rip out people’s jugulars, and a ten-pound cat scares you?”
The dogs’ ears flatten against their heads, followed by more whines. I scoop up the cat, and the dogs trot ahead of their owner. Hadeon gives me a smile before popping into Lance’s room.
It’s my turn. I check my watch. Only five minutes left.
“I’ll keep it quick.” Midge jumps out of my hands and curls up next to Alana. “Schedules are done for the next pay cycle. We have a few applications for new positions that need to be looked at. And I sold the three safe houses. There are five others I sent you that we could start bidding on.” Macie and I have been running and rebuilding Mastodon. Joey can keep me on payroll for a few more weeks, and hopefully, by then, things should be stable.
I pause because I don’t want to say it.
“We’re broke,” Alana says.
“Yeah. the insurance companies are dragging their feet with the checks, and there’s all these other bills. There’s a bill for drug rehabilitation, and tuition. All those are addressed to you. Macie’s tuition was ‘reduced’ because she’s a Merit Scholar.”
Alana frowns. “She is a Merit Scholar, but the funding was cut, and the scholarship can’t even pay for food.” She drums her fingers on her bedspread and glances off into space. “Anything else?”
“The owner of Patriot Security contacted me. He’s retiring, and he wanted to give you the first chance to make an offer. They have fifty more employees and an actual building. Their client list is pretty strong.”
“I’m aware. What did Waverly say when she did the data analysis?”
Waverly is many things. Being a master at research is one of them. She sent me the files this morning. “It’s a solid investment…if we had the money.”
Alana is silent for a moment as her eyes drift over my shoulder. I feel Lance’s hand on my lower back. I smell his body wash. His healing process has been slow but steady. We talked about this last night. I have my doubts, but he’s convinced it’s the right thing to do. And with Alana’s finances being what they are, I think he’s doing it for her, too.
He clears his throat and steps beside me, turning the white envelope in his hands.
Alana’s eyes narrow. Her face tightens, and her shoulders straighten. “Don’t fucking give me that.”
Lance steps forward. “Alana, I have to.”
It’s his letter of resignation.
His voice cracks. “I can’t go into the field. I’m a mess, and I can’t sleep.” He’s been having nightmares since the fire. I do too, but his seem worse. He only sleeps well when I’m next to him. He continues, “And I have other responsibilities.”
She catches my eye, and her frown deepens. “Did you tell her your real name?”
“Yes.” Years ago, he had his identity scrubbed from the internet, changed his name, and started a new life.I didn’t get a clear reason why, but I suspect Alana isn’t the only one who worked for the Olympians. And whatever they were doing, it makes my family’s crimes look like shoplifting.
“Did you tell her mine?”
Lance shakes his head. “It’s not my secret to tell.”
He didn’t. Lance and Alana were a package deal. And while he didn’t go into any details, I know there’s a line of loyalty he would never cross.
He drops the envelope on the bed. “Alana, I have to?—”
She cuts him off. “Don’t be fucking stupid. I’m not talking about this now.”
“But…” he starts.
She raises her hand, and he stops. Her eyes burn into me. “Take notes. I only have a few minutes left.” I take out my phone and start typing as she speaks. “Have Macie call my real estate agent, tell her to sell the following properties: Aspen, Seattle, Atlanta, Vermont, both Malibu houses, and the Penthouse.”
What the actual fuck? How much real estate does she have lying around? Even Lance gasps. Did he not know about them? Or is he surprised at her quick sale?
But Alana keeps rattling off commands. “That should give us enough money to last about a year, without affecting Mastodon’s payroll or insurance. Next, call my lawyer. His name is Peter Olympian.”
“I thought you didn’t want their help.”
“Peter isn’t helping, he’s being paid. Have him draft an offer to Patriot Security for a two percent stake in Grasshopper. I’d be willing to go as high as five, but no more.”
“What the hell is Grasshopper?” I haven’t seen that name anywhere in any of the files.
Lance supplies the answer. “Back in college, Alana invested in a gaming start up company. She owns sixty-five percent.”
Jesus, I own like five shares of Tesla; we are not the same.
“If we have Patriot, we can use their safe houses, campus, and clients. Add that to what Mastodon has, we’d be poised to be the second largest private security firm on the East Coast.” She points to the folder on her dresser. “I want your opinions on the new logo.” She pauses and glances at the image. “You know there was a small part of me that hoped the graphic designer was behind this whole thing. At least that would make sense to me.”
It’s an elephant wearing sunglasses and with a protective trunk wrapped around the baby elephant, who is also wearing sunglasses. “I think it’s perfect.”
I show it to Lance, who rolls his eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me? That’s the first design.”
Alana shakes her head. “No it’s not. The first time the sunglasses were square, these are more rounded.”
Lance sighs and rests his head on my shoulder. “I can’t anymore.”
“Oh yes you can.” Alana rips the envelope in half. He groans and starts rubbing his temples, but she’s not done. “Take the numbers of the therapist Hadeon gave me. Both of you use it. You’ve seen some shit, and you need to deal with it to have a functional grown-up relationship. Daddy issues, insecurity—both will eat away at your relationship like cancer if you don’t make an effort to work on it now.”
“What about you?” I ask.
She waves the thought away. “Pshaw. I am the model of perfect mental health.”
I open my mouth, but Lance grabs my arm and shakes his head.
Alana’s lips curl slightly at the corners. “Open the folder and review the HR standards for an interoffice relationship.” She shifts her attention to Lance. “I told you I’d never make you choose, but I’m not ready to let you go either. I’m sorry, but this is the compromise I am willing to make.”
My stomach drops when I open the folder to see an offer letter. It’s double what I make with Joey and light-years more than what I made working at Waffle House. The title is Senior Office Management and Logistics.
Alana smiles at me and says, “Welcome to Mastodon.”
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Unedited sample of Book 2. Sins and Secrets. - revisions will occur between now and final printing.
“Evening, Waverly.” I jump and my breath got caught in my throat. Lukas leans against the wall, his arms crossed, foot resting on the wall..Lukas black shirt was rolled up past the elbows, exposing his arms. Missing a few buttons, and black leather pendent filled the space in his exposed chest. As far as I'd seen, his chest remained a blank canvas for his art. His expression is almost unreadable to me, but his lips curls at the corners for a sarcastic smirk. He’s laughing at me. Again.
I squeak, about to raise my hand to wave, but if I lifted my arm too much, my shirt would expose all my lady bits. “You look fancy, are you going out to the bar?” Please ignore that I am wearing a faded ten-year-old high school senior year tee shirt.
His grin grows, “Darren and I are going out to club.” He pushed himself off the wall and took a few steps towards me.
“Oh, you don't seem like the club type, loud music, small talk, and dancing.” Yep, none of those things seem to fit Lukas’ brand. He was a more of metal guy, working in a tattoo shop most evenings and weekends. Hell, I’m not even fully sure how he took off for the three-day weekend.
Whenever he is in a room, my eyes find excuses to stare at him.
He takes a one more step and tilts his head. “Not that kinda of club.”
“Knitting?” I chuck at my joke.
He shrugs and stalks closer. “Well there’re knots involved.” His body seems to fill the space in the hallway, his presences larger than life. “Your many things Waverly, I didn't think liar was one of them. “
I jump back again, stepping backwards. “What do you mean?” My body presses against the wall as he invaded my space as well as attacked my character.
He motion back with his head toward my bedroom. “He was putting on one hell of a show, but you...” He clicked his tongue and placed his hand over my head, towering over me. “Oh the moans sounded good, but you weren't really into it.”
What? I covered my mouth, huge mistake. I felt my bare ass against the wainscoting. “How? What?” Thing was, he was right. But still. How did he know that?
“You left your balcony door open, and there's a mirror.” He filled my entire field of vision. He rubbed his sharp chin with a hand like he was mulling over the answer to a riddle then slammed that hand on the wall, trapping me. “I watched the whole thing.”
My eyes burned with acid tears of humiliation. He watched. Too many thoughts jam in my head at once. How could he do that? Why would he do that? Those were the obvious questions, but the darker thoughts pushed through. Did he like how I looked? Did he get off on watching other people? Was it just an opportunity thing or did he want to watch me? Did he like what he saw? Did he think I was... hot?
No obviously not, otherwise he wouldn't be out here, mocking me.
I slam my eyes shut, hoping that would stop any tears. My lower jaw quivers. Then his stubble chin pressed against my cheek as he whispered, “you were magnificent.” His hot breath almost kissed the soft skin on my neck. My lower reigns damp as my entire body reacts to his words. Three words and his lips were even on my skin, but that did more for me than anything had in the last half hour.
A traitorous tear escapes as his thumb traced the curves of my cheek. “You have nothing to be ashamed of.” His voice is thick with a sound I've never heard before. “Your partner was the one who put in a subpar effort.”
“How could you tell?” I didn't rush to my boyfriend’s defense. Didn't say he was having an off night. Truthfully, it was one of his better performances. I open my eyes to see his predatory smirk shift slightly, like he knew a secret and was going to spill.
His fingers trace down my neck, and I shiver. Cold, someone must’ve left the door open. That was it. My skin quakes as his fingertips path down my shoulder until he stopped at my wrist. He taps my watch. “You checked your text messages at least three separate times.”
“Oh god.” I’m such a dizzying mess of emotions, and hormones I honestly couldn't tell if it was getting caught, the fact he was paying close enough attention to me to notice or the way his thigh had snuck between my legs. Between the coolness of the wall against my back and his heat pressed against my core, I was a frenzy of emotions. And he just watches.