What Billions Can’t Buy

Chapter 1

“I don’t need to tell you, Ms. Cole,” Andrew Huffman said, glaring over his glasses, “that if this little investment flops, you can kiss your position as CEO goodbye.”

Geri returned the glare, wishing he’d go occupy one of the other empty seats on the Cole Industries private jet. “You don’t need to tell me, and yet here you are—telling me. Again.” She put her wineglass down and narrowed her eyes. “Do you have anything new to add to the conversation? Or do you just enjoy reminding me how eager you and the rest of the board are to boot me out?”

His expression softened to something more paternal—patronizing, really—and he pressed his elbow into the armrest as he inclined his head. “I just think this is risky. Even reckless.”

“Startup investments are always risky. The smart investor has to take big risks in order to see big payouts. You may recall I learned that from my father, no?” She kept her voice flat, but managed to keep most of the frost out of it. God forbid any of the men on the company’s board started thinking she was cold or bitchy. She also schooled her tone to keep it from sounding forceful; after all, one man’s assertiveness was another woman’s aggressive bossiness.

I chose this career over going to medical school, why?

Andrew released a long, condescending sigh. “There’s risk, and there’s risk . What’s wrong with waiting until you’ve been CEO for a while before you start gambling with this kind of—”

“I’m not gambling with Cole Industries money,” she told him for the four hundredth time. “Which means it’s really none of the board’s business what I do.”

“But it shows irresponsibility,” he hissed. “No one wants a CEO who’s—”

“What? A compulsive gambler?” She gave a caustic laugh. “That didn’t bother any of you when my father was in my seat.”

Andrew’s lips formed a tight, bleached line. Like most of the people she dealt with at her late father’s company, he didn’t like her, and he hated any reminder that her father hadn’t been a saint worthy of the pedestal they placed him on.

“Let’s revisit this conversation in two years,” she suggested coldly. “When RightPriceTek stock is worth a hundred times what it is today, and you and the rest of the board wonder aloud if I was too cautious and not willing to take risks by investing even more.” She leaned forward and clasped her hands around her knee, which was primly crossed over the other. “At what point do you all have some faith that I know what I’m doing? Or even that my father knew what he was doing?”

Andrew scowled, but he didn’t push. There would probably be a terse email to the rest of the board, along with some hushed phone calls. Geri was exhausted just thinking about the scrutiny she’d be under for the next week. She’d almost gotten used to the always being under a microscope; that came with the territory of being the relatively young female CEO of a major defense contractor. It was only going to intensify now that she dared to take a week away from the boardroom for an investment that wouldn’t directly benefit Cole Industries.

As if she ever took time off, and as if her father’d had half the business savvy she had in her little finger. These assholes were all just bitter because the company was flourishing under her leadership. Since she’d taken the helm, the company had locked down two major new contracts with the Department of Defense, and stock was at a record high.

She and Andrew both knew the board wouldn’t oust her. The shareholders would revolt.

She broke the staring contest with Andrew and shifted her glare to the turquoise Caribbean waters far below. Whether the board of directors ever had faith in her or not, she doubted this little venture would make or break anything. She wasn’t even committing to investing money; this was simply a weeklong retreat in which the founders of RightPriceTek would attempt to woo her and other potential investors into pouring money into their company. The fact that they had enough capital already to put on such a retreat on a private island could either be a good sign or a bad one. They might be burning every penny and line of credit they had in an ill-judged attempt to dazzle investors. Or they might have plans as big as their initial sales pitch had implied, and they were serious enough to put in this kind of effort to wine and dine those with even more money.

It was worth a week to hear their full pitch, she’d decided, and apparently the board had taken that to mean she was already writing an eight-figure check straight from one of Cole Industries’ accounts.

Geri drained her wineglass and stared harder at the sea below. She didn’t want to admit how badly she needed this week to be the gold mine RightPriceTek had promised it would be. The board’s lack of faith had begun to erode her confidence even as the numbers had shown she was doing exceedingly well. A huge return on investment would look fabulous to the otherwise skeptical board and to her persistent imposter syndrome. If she could invest so wisely that she made back enormous returns, then maybe the good ol’ boys would have more faith in her abilities.

Would it be enough for them to reconsider trying to oust her? Hard to say. Running a multibillion dollar corporation that provided military gear to the United States and a number of its allies required a certain level of ruthlessness. No one on the board of directors believed Geri possessed that ruthlessness. They were sure she was too much like her shrinking violet mother and disinterested younger sister, rather than her table-pounding, bellowing father who had built Cole Industries from nothing. No one had intimidated her father. Not generals. Not sitting presidents. No one.

He’d raised Geri to be the same, and after he’d died two years ago, she’d stepped into his penthouse office and taken the reins just as he’d groomed her to do since she was a child and just as he’d ordered her to do in his will. The board had known she would assume that role upon his death, but they’d apparently taken for granted that Linus Cole would be at the helm for another ten or twenty years. They’d all likely be long retired and her ascension would be someone else’s problem.

One hellish ICU stay and a funeral later… well, here they were. No one was happy about it, and they were never going to let her forget it.

Sighing, Geri rubbed the bridge of her nose. She’d have been lying if she’d said the whole island getaway thing hadn’t been part of this trip’s appeal. It was business of course, but there were promises of plenty of time on white sand beaches with fishbowl margaritas, and she had every intention of indulging. She needed a break .

As long as a hurricane didn’t show up. She’d never been as sick or scared as she’d been when a hurricane had taken an unexpected turn and hit the cruise ship she’d been on with her parents. Since then, whenever she ventured into areas prone to such storms, she obsessively checked weather forecasts. Going into political hot zones and warzones didn’t bother her nearly as much as even considering stepping into a hurricane’s path.

She was especially jumpy about violent tropical weather after a day cruise—part of another startup company’s no-expenses-spared attempt to woo investors—had ended in disaster several months ago. Eleven highly influential moguls across various industries were presumed dead after the superyacht upon which they’d been schmoozing had been lost in a freak storm off the coast of St. Martin. One attendee—a friend of her father’s from their days at Yale—had attended the retreat but missed the boat due to illness. He hadn’t been able to speak about it when he’d come home, despite the press hounding him relentlessly for commentary on the tragic loss of several friends and colleagues. Geri wondered if that was why he’d eaten a bullet less than two weeks after he’d returned.

Needless to say, Geri was nervous. She tried to tell herself the forecasts were still clear, and the odds of another deadly disaster befalling a startup’s investor party were astronomical. That did little to quell the irrational queasiness in the pit of her stomach, though.

At least for now, despite a busy hurricane season that was well underway, there wasn’t a lot of activity coming this direction. With any luck, that would hold out for the next week, but she planned to check constantly throughout the trip. One sign of so much as a tropical depression or anything that might not bode well for this retreat and, lucrative investments be damned, she’d have everyone from Cole Industries off the island in a heartbeat.

No storms this week. I need this to work out. Please, no storms this week.

The pilot announced they’d be landing soon, and Geri made sure her seat belt was still fastened. The cabin crew cleared away everyone’s drinks, and before long, her ears began to pop as the plane descended. Moments later, the wheels touched down.

At the end of the runway, Geri and her entourage filed off the jet and out into the thick humidity. A gentle breeze helped, but she was still hit with a blast of damp heat; no matter how much she traveled to tropical places, it was always a shock to the senses, especially for someone accustomed to the more temperate weather in northwestern Oregon.

Fortunately, an air-conditioned stretched Land Rover waited for Geri, Andrew, and Geri’s assistant, Beth. They were joined by two white men in matching blue RightPriceTek golf shirts.

The men settled onto the bench seat facing Geri, Andrew, and Beth, and the first said, “Welcome to Faraway Resort. I apologize that Mr. Price wasn’t able to come down and meet you personally, but he’s putting all the finishing touches on this week’s event.” He extended his hand. “I’m Kevin Riley, and this is Tyson Kent.”

Geri shook his hand. “Geri Cole, Cole Industries. This is Andrew Huffman and my assistant, Beth Vincent.”

Everyone shook hands and finished introductions as the Land Rover pulled off the tarmac and onto a dirt road leading away from the tiny airstrip. Tyson stayed quiet, but Kevin didn’t.

“I assure you, RightPriceTek has spared no expense to make sure everyone is comfortable and having a good time.” His smile seemed like it should have reminded Geri of an overzealous salesman, but it didn’t quite hit that note. She couldn’t put her finger on what note it did hit, but she decided then and there that she wasn’t comfortable with Kevin. He went on, “Whatever amenities you need, the resort has, and if they don’t have something, it can be flown in as long as it doesn’t involve snow. We’ve got kayaking, snorkeling, scuba diving, and there are some islands nearby with some excellent hiking.”

“No hiking on this island?” Andrew sounded smug, as if he’d just found a hair in his soup and intended to sue the place into oblivion. “So much for having every amenity.”

Kevin chuckled. “Well, there is hiking here, but it’s a small and fairly flat island without much in the way of interesting topography. Some of the others nearby—which we can take you to via boat or helicopter—have much more satisfying trails and fewer snakes.” He smiled again, this time meeting Andrew’s smugness with his own, and Andrew scowled.

Normally, that would have amused Geri. Few things entertained her like watching uptight assholes being taken down a peg.

But Kevin unnerved her more than Andrew’s scowl amused her.

Kevin went on, explaining in a wink-wink nudge-nudge tone that he was serious when he said that anything a person wanted could be flown in from somewhere else. Geri didn’t have to ask for clarification. When she’d started accompanying her father to high society events—especially those in international waters or on islands whose laws were suggestions at best—she’d learned that people in their circles were unconcerned with what was considered acceptable by the population at large. She’d seen a prudishly conservative federal judge with his hand down a waiter’s pants, and she’d once snorted coke with two vocally anti-drug senators. Nothing surprised her anymore.

A fishbowl margarita, a joint, and some time to herself on a beach would be enough for her, but she had no doubt the RightPriceTek people would be transporting in all kinds of “amenities” to keep the other potential investors entertained.

Geri kept her expression placid and looked out the window at the passing scenery. The road was lined with palm trees and what she thought were small patches of sugarcane up against a dense jungle. Just up ahead, a gleaming white and tinted glass building loomed high in the sky. It was triangular—vertical on one side and sloping dramatically on the other—with balconies extending from the higher rooms. At the top was a structure that reminded her of the rotating rooftop restaurants she’d seen in various cities—disc-shaped and surrounded by near-black windows. The place was impressive, and—

Just beyond the dense tree line, another vehicle went by, speeding in the opposite direction. She only caught a glimpse, but the boxy profile of a drab green Humvee was difficult to mistake for something else. As was the shape of a man sitting on top behind a very large black weapon.

She turned to Kevin. “Is there a military base on this island?”

Tyson shifted almost imperceptibly, but Kevin didn’t miss a beat. “No, just the resort.” He gestured in the direction she’d seen the Humvee. “There is a small fleet of military surplus vehicles, though. They’re better suited than civilian vehicles for some of the rougher terrain, and they have the cargo space we need for supplies coming in via the air strip and the marina.” He grinned. “In fact I believe there are a few manufactured by your company.”

Geri fought to keep her expression neutral. “I see.” But what about the gun turret on top of the Humvee? That wouldn’t be necessary for moving cargo in and out of a resort on an otherwise unoccupied island. She had only caught a glimpse, though. And the last few dozen times she’d seen a vehicle like that one, they’d had fifty-cals mounted on turrets. Maybe her brain just superimposed what she’d seen before. Maybe she hadn’t seen the gun or gunner at all.

“So,” Kevin said. “What do you think so far?” He gestured out the window. “Is this a gorgeous island or what?”

“It is.” She held his gaze. “It must cost a fortune to rent this entire resort. Especially for a startup looking for capital.”

That smug smile stayed firmly in place, and she was genuinely surprised he didn’t reach across and give her thigh a creepy squeeze. “Oh, we’re not renting the island. RightPriceTek owns the island.”

Geri blinked. “And yet the company still needs capital for its startup.”

“Well.” He laughed. “Mr. Price has much bigger dreams than just running a resort. That’s where you come in.”

“I see.”

Tyson finally spoke, his voice flat. “Mr. Price will explain everything during the investors’ meeting tomorrow.” He smiled like someone who’d been told to smile but wasn’t sure how. “In the meantime, you and the other guests can enjoy yourselves around the resort.”

“Thank you,” Geri said because she had no idea what else to say.

Kevin continued regaling them with everything the resort had on offer, but Geri mostly tuned him out. She’d read the emails when she’d signed up. All she cared about now was checking into her suite, indulging in a cigarette and a long shower, and then hunting down a beach chair and that fishbowl margarita. Asking for a joint could probably wait until she was in for the evening. The last thing she needed was Andrew scurrying back to the board and tattling to them that she was smoking weed now too.

Thinking about that made her want a joint even more.