Chapter 28 Asher
I GET TO the office early, mainly because I tossed and turned all night and finally gave up on the bed. You’d think after the fuckfest I engaged in with Cord I’d have been relaxed enough to sleep like a baby, but I couldn’t get our last conversation out of my head.
He’s jealous of me. As much as he pretends he doesn’t care, he couldn’t hide that, which means maybe there’s still hope for us. Maybe he’s just scared to admit it.
Or maybe I really did hurt him so badly he can’t forgive me.
No, I’m not going to think like that. If he was that hurt, he wouldn’t be coming to my apartment of his own free will and letting me do whatever I want with his body. Because no one forced him to come over last night. There was no mitigating circumstance like when he was injured and half conscious.
Granted, he’s still not ready to admit to that, but it’s a step in the right direction. One that makes me feel a little lighter today.
I step off the elevator and stop at Elaine’s desk to get an update on the day’s schedule. After she fills me in on the meetings and appointments ahead of me, she offers a sly grin.
“You look chipper today.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I murmur as I thumb through the mail she handed me.
“Yeah, right. I know an after-sex glow when I see one.”
I raise my brow at her and look around; we’re the only two people in the office right now. “Did you come up with anything new on our search?”
“I see what you’re doing there. I’ll let you get away with it this time, only because I’m feeling a little inadequate.”
I pat her on the back. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. I’ve got something else for you to look for.”
“Oh yeah? Please tell me it’s a picture. This would be so much easier if I knew what this guy looks like.”
“I’m sure Cord would agree with you, but no, there’s no picture. We do have a new location, however. O’Hara’s bar.”
She immediately starts typing it into her computer and a series of windows pop up showing the front of the bar, a map of the area, and what looks like a couple of articles on it. “How’d you get this?”
Cord didn’t say I couldn’t tell her. “They followed a tunnel from inside the warehouse that led them to the bar.”
She grins. “This is like a spy movie.”
“Hardly.”
I’m still a little wary about the fact that Cord and I met there last week. What are the odds I would think of that place when we hadn’t been there in years? Had the Python’s men been there when we were? Did they have cameras watching the alley where we fucked?
It’s not that I’m worried about getting caught, it’s just that anything could have happened while we had our guard down that night. We’d have to be more careful next time. If there even is a next time.
And if I have anything to say about it, there will be. I know the responsible thing to do would be to swear off public sex in the name of safety, but where’s the fun in that? Cord and I had always thrived on a bit of danger in our relationship. The lure of the thrill kept things fresh.
“What are you thinking about?” Elaine asks.
“Nothing.”
“Sure. You’ve got this shit eating grin on your face, like you’ve been up to no good.”
“You watch too many movies,” I reply as I brush past her and make my way to my office.
A stack of paperwork and several challenging meetings keeps my mind occupied enough that I don’t obsess over this Cord situation until Elaine stops by my office late in the afternoon.
Or is it early evening? It’s dark outside my windows and I notice the floor is quiet, meaning most of the staff have gone home for the day.
I guess I got more involved in my work than I thought.
She drops a folder of papers on my desk and takes a seat.
“What’s this?” I ask as I open the file. Inside are several pages of what looks like printouts of articles and blog posts, along with a few grainy pictures.
“That’s everything I’ve found so far on the Python. I hit the jackpot when I went after O’Hara’s.”
I pause in my perusal of the folder and give her my full attention. “What do you mean?”
“Turns out it was mentioned more than once in that Reddit thread, mostly as a meetup site. There were several references to it with dates and times, like it was a regular thing.”
“Any names?”
She shakes her head. “Just the online handles. But that’s not the best part.
I did a little digging on the bar itself and discovered it was owned by a local man until about four years ago, when he was bought out by an equity firm.
I followed the money on that and it led me to an offshore holding company. ”
“I’m sensing you’re going somewhere with this,” I prod. I know Elaine has done her due diligence–that’s what I pay her for–but sometimes she can get too invested in the dramatic reveal.
“They can run, but they can’t hide from me. Peeling back the layers took most of the day, but eventually it led me to one Howard Thalium.”
“What do we know about him?”
“Well, he’s a trust fund baby, comes from old European money. I couldn’t find much on the family, but Howard apparently came here some thirty years ago and set up operations. If my math is correct, that would put him in his mid-sixties, but check out the photo in the file.”
I flip through the pages back to the pictures.
One of them is an enlarged image of a clean cut young man in a suit getting into a sports car in front of what looks like an elaborate mansion.
The photo appears to have been taken from a distance judging by the grainy quality, possibly from a high-powered lens.
I examine the image more closely; there’s something vaguely familiar about the man, but I can’t put my finger on it.
Maybe I’ve come across him in business before.
“This is Thalium?”
“The only picture I can find of him. He apparently takes his privacy very seriously.”
“How long ago was this taken?”
“The article where I found it was written last year, when Thalium’s company acquired a small Asian pharmaceutical firm.”
Last year? I flip through the pages in the folder to the article she referred to and pause.
You have got to be kidding me.
“This is the name of his company?”
She grins. “One and the same. Tell me that guy isn’t a vampire.”
I place the photo and the article side by side on my desk. “I believe you are correct. Why didn’t this come up in your searches before?”
“I wasn’t looking for a company.”
I look down at the article and read it aloud. “Howard Thalium, owner and CEO of Python Industries.” That can’t be a coincidence. “Do you realize what this means?”
She nods. “I believe we have a picture of the Python.”
I finish reading through the file then pull out my phone and call Cord. It goes to voicemail, so I assume he’s busy doing who knows what. I leave him a message to call me as soon as he gets a chance, emphasizing that it’s related to the Python. In the meantime, I tell Elaine to keep digging.
I’m reminded, not for the first time, of what she always says–in this day of cell phones and social media, everyone has a digital footprint.
It’s something I need to take more seriously myself.
I guard my own privacy as much as I can, heeding the warning given to me by my mentor Carlyle years ago.
That’s why I’ve moved several times over the years.
But my company is a constant in my life.
Maybe I should consider finding someone else to run it so I can step out of the limelight.
It wouldn’t do for people to start questioning my existence.
They’re already suspicious of how someone who looks as young as me could head up a company like this.
Trouble is, what would I do then? This business is my life.
Or at least, a big part of it. If I had Cord in it again, would I consider walking away?
Would he? Could we go somewhere else together?
Someplace where we’re not known. That’s what a lot of Clan members do.
If Elaine could find someone like the Python, who’s obviously a stickler for his privacy, that doesn’t bode well for my own efforts to fly under the radar.
So far I’ve been able to successfully brush off the comments and questions, but that could all change. And if it does, if someone starts connecting the dots, would the Clan force me to move on?
Carlyle has been able to operate his businesses from the shadows for years, but he rarely goes out and he’s never photographed. I don’t want to live my life as a recluse.
And then there’s men like Dante. He’s right out in the open, but he gets away with it through intimidation and bribery. I don’t know how long he’s been running the Crimson Guild in New York, but he was well-established years before Cord and I moved here.
I walk back out to Elaine’s desk, catching her as she’s packing up for the day. “How good is my backstory?”
She stops and looks over at me. “Worried someone like me might find out your secret?”
I shrug. “Something like that.”
“I’ve got you well covered for now.”
“What about later?”
“You might want to consider changing your name in the next five or so years. At least become a junior.”
“Should I move?”
“New York is a big city. It’s easier to get lost here than in some Podunk town in the Midwest.”
“I wasn’t thinking about a Podunk town in the Midwest.” The last thing I want to do is go back to a small town. I had my fill of that growing up.
She grins. “Well, whatever you’re thinking, stop. No one is coming after you here.”
“Have you seen the looks I get from my competitors?”
“Ok,” she sighs, sitting back on her desk. “At the risk of stroking your enormous ego, you’re a Golden Boy. You’ve got this whole Whiz Kid vibe going on right now that intimidates the hell out of people, especially older men, which is why they look so terrified of you.”
“Whiz Kid vibe?”
“Yeah, you know, like the tech billionaires out west. Young, brilliant, and sharp, everything they touch turns to money. You can ride that for several years. As far as anyone who looks close at you, you were born and raised in Atlanta. Your family moved north when you were twelve. You topped off your education at Harvard Business School. Started your first company when you were sixteen. Made your first million at eighteen.”
I recall the basics of the identity Elaine created for me, though I guess I never really paid all that much attention to it. “Why Atlanta, and why Harvard?”
“Atlanta because how else would I explain that cute Georgia drawl of yours. And Harvard because, well, go big or go home.”
“Yeah, but isn’t Harvard kind of hard to fake?”
“It’s easier than you think, if you know what you’re doing. Plus, it gives my enormous ego a boost knowing I pulled it off. Now go home. Or go drag that hot boyfriend of yours into a dark corner and have the kind of wild monkey sex I wish I was having.”
Wild monkey sex? Sometimes Elaine really makes me feel old.