Chapter Thirty-Nine
Alana
Twenty minutes later, we’re at the kitchen island with Blake and Kellan; Kellan being the man Walker flew in to interrogate one of my kidnappers. He’s an interesting guy, with sharp eyes, fair skin, and light brown hair, who we soon learn has spent years working inside the Russian borders.
With Blake’s encouragement, he explains why he’s involved, “Roughly seven years ago, I was pinpointed by a general who felt I could pass as a Russian national. I picked up on the language and the etiquette training with ease and it wasn’t long until I was shipped off to an undercover operation in Russia. I left the service two years ago and joined Walker Security. As for your kidnappers, they’re part of the Russian mob which is no joke, and no one you want to play games with. You were very lucky things ended as delicately as they did, Alana.”
I hug myself, the silk of the emerald-green blouse I’d chosen to be camera ready blossoming beneath my fingers. “I’m grateful to Walker for getting me out.”
Damion’s hand presses to my lower back, warm with comfort, as Kellan adds, “The guy we captured is a nobody. He’s a grunt man.” His attention shifts to Damion. “I don’t know what the fuck your father was thinking involving himself with these people. They’ll hold him and your company captive, and I’m talking blackmail and threats of bodily harm.”
“My father tends to believe he’s uncrossable and more dangerous than anyone else in the room. But the interesting part of this equation is Caleb.”
“Blake’s filled me in on Caleb,” Kellan replies.
“Caleb’s lethal, but for some reason, he’s on the wrong side of my father which means my father is on the wrong side of Caleb. Caleb convinced my father is sending the mob after him therefore Caleb wants my father dead.”
“Which might sound like good news,” Blake comments. “They kill each other off and this is over, but neither party wants a mess to clean up. They’ll want a coverup in place. In other words, Damion, it opens you up to being framed for the murder, and you have a hell of a lot of motive.”
I’m officially freaking out in my head and I twist around to face Damion. “How do you know any of this? I’ve heard nothing of Caleb wanting your father dead, or fearing a Russian hit.”
“Sorry, baby. I had every intention of telling you. I met with Caleb this morning. That was the general gist of the talk. He wants out. He feels he has to kill my father to make that happen.”
“Oh my God,” I say, pressing my hand to my forehead and then dropping it. “That meeting could have been part of him setting you up.”
“We tapped it and recorded it,” Blake assures me. “It’s clear from the audio. Damion wasn’t in on this, but it’s incriminating if he doesn’t go to law enforcement, and that is exactly what we need to do at this point. I have a guy I trust. I’ve teased some of this to him already. We need to bring him in, let him hear the audio, and allow him to help shelter you, Damion.”
Damion stares at him a couple beats, his lips pressing together, voice tight. “Because you think my father’s going to end up dead?”
“Being frank here,” Blake states, “I’ve done a lot of digging on Caleb. He has a reputation for getting the job done and not getting caught. If he takes a job, it ends his way. If he says he’s going to do something, he does it. He clearly told you today that your father is as good as dead.”
“Will this trusted member of law enforcement place West Senior in protective custody?” I ask. “Because if Damion’s father finds out about Caleb coming after him, won’t we write Caleb’s death sentence with the mob? I mean, I know he’s not a good guy, but—”
“He did warn me about trouble heading Alana’s direction more than once,” Damion adds, indicating agreement with my line of thought. “I don’t believe he intends to take me down. He’s at odds with my father, not me.”
“Even if that’s true,” Kellan counters, “you have motive and there’s big money at stake. You’ll be looked at by law enforcement. In my opinion, alerting law enforcement now is your salvation. Use them to set him up.”
“You said that involving law enforcement gets tricky,” Damion replies, his attention on Blake now. “My father knows he’s close to getting kicked out the door. He’s planned a way to take me down. He’s that devious. What if that backfires on me?”
“It will,” I say. “Your father will make sure it does. I’ve seen how calculating he is. I can’t do the interview and risk triggering him.”
“Speaking of triggering him,” Damion says grimly. “The board meeting is tomorrow morning.”
“Can you put it off?” Blake asks. “Buy us some time to think this through?”
Damion steeples his fingers and rests them to his mouth a moment before he says, “I don’t know. I can try, but if I do, we’re going to need to have a whole lot better plan to end this than we do now, which is no plan at all. I don’t think I can get more than a day.”
“What does he fear?” Kellan asks, glancing at me. “Would your mother know?”
“My mother’s on her knees for that man. If she was able to think outside her own needs, I doubt she’d tell us.”
“He’s too arrogant to be afraid,” Damion mutters, his hands settling under his blue jacket on his hips.
“He sure as hell better fear the Russians,” Kellan says. “If he crosses them, they’ll come after him. I’d tell you all ways to piss them off and make sure he ends up dead, but that’s not the Walker way.”
“No, it’s not,” Blake says. “We’re good little fuckers that way, and therefore we don’t go to jail and get to keep protecting our clients.”
Seemingly unaware of our exchange, Damion’s attention is razor-sharp on Kellan. “The Russian’s might just be the trap he set himself. What if we just scare him enough that he feels he has to leave the country and retire off the radar?”
Kellan’s brow furrows. “What do you have in mind?”
“I’ll get the board meeting moved, and I’ll pay the guy you have in custody to go at my father, and convince him he’s fucked with the mob. Then I pray like hell my father just goes away. In my mind, it’s the only shot we have.”
“I like the fuck out of this idea,” Blake approves. “Kellan?”
“As long as there isn’t a big money trail, the mob loses by backing away from West Enterprises,” Kellan warns, “it should work.” He pushes off the island. “Let me go get to work. More soon.” He heads for the door.
Blake lingers and points at me. “No interview, Alana. That’s my vote. Damion, let me know on the meeting, and I’ll let you know after Kellan does his thing. What are we doing about travel?”
“If I can push the meeting a day to Friday, we’ll leave together Friday night for the Hamptons.” He cuts me a stare. “If you can agree to stay here until then, no matter how crazy it makes you.”
“I’m not trying to get kidnapped again,” I assure him. “I’ll hold my ground.”
“Good choice,” Blake approves. “My team will be close. Communicate if anything changes.” He offers a nod, and a few seconds later, he’s gone.
I grab a donut because I’m going to need it. “I’m not looking forward to calling Lana.”
“I can call the studio.”
My donut-filled hand goes up. “No. No, I need to do this, and honestly, the more I’ve stepped back from it, the more it pisses me off that they want to snag ratings off my father’s death. I got this. I’m just going to eat this donut and make the call. How easy will moving the meeting be?” I take a bite.
“Piece of cake,” he says, reclaiming the seat next to me. “The minute I tell Max there’s something in the works that will be critical to their decision, he’ll move the meeting.” He catches my hand, leads my donut to his mouth, and takes a bite.
I laugh, thinking about all the many times he did that to me growing up, which would be often. Everything mine was his, and everything his was not mine, it had felt back then, a problem created by our families, a problem we’ve eliminated even before we have true closure. He kisses me and retrieves his phone, and I listen as he calls his assistant and then Max.
My call to Lana is smoother than I expect. She was feeling shitty about asking me to do it anyway, and the interview is cancelled. Lana expects the studio to pressure me, but I assure her I will hold firm. I also promise to work on a target list of special guests for the next season that we can tease the studio with.
I end the call and set my phone down. “It’s done. I took on some extra work to prep for next season, but that’s not a big deal. Now what?”
“I need to go to the office,” he says. “Even if it includes an encounter with my father. Why don’t I take you to a late lunch?”
“Is that rubbing us in your father’s face?”
“There’s a difference between showing him we’re not afraid of him and calling him a killer on TV.” He pushes to his feet, towering over me where I perch on the stool, his hands framing my face. “I’ll take you to Kristie’s. Maybe you can enjoy it this time.”
“Very fancy,” I say, “I’m not turning that down.”
“Then I’m taking you to the Hamptons tomorrow night, my future wife, where we can plan our wedding, be it there or elsewhere.” His voice softens to a promise of naughty things as he adds, “I can’t wait to have you alone on an island all by myself.” He leans in to kiss me, and I think, maybe, just maybe, tomorrow night, West Senior, the monster himself, will be caged, not me.