In Deep (The Pierce Playboys #1)

Chapter 1

ASHER

All I wanted was to get in, buy the company, and get out. I was not in the mood for California.

I slid further down in the custom leather seat and thought, for at least the third time on this flight, about telling Adam to turn the plane around.

Take me back to Aspen. Give me three feet of powder, a slope all to myself, and some fucking peace.

“Tell me why we’re really buying this company, Asher.” Mike’s question lingered in the cabin like the ominous storm clouds gathering beneath us, and the pressure behind my eyes.

Mike, who always traveled with me when I insisted on leaving the security detail behind, shook his head as he watched me fidget. He was not security. He was, in fact, VP of our Operations and Safety department. But save a guy’s life one time and they just won’t let you spiral.

“I do own the largest construction company in the United States,” I replied without looking up from my phone as I fired off another text to my assistant, Cheryl.

Asher: No more live plants in the house, they keep dying.

“Expansion is what we do.”

Cheryl: They die because you won’t let the plant people in to take care of them.

“Above ground expansion,” Mike said carefully. “We’ve always stayed away from anything wet.”

Asher: I don’t want people in the house when I’m there. Find a company that will work around my schedule or get rid of the plants. Buy something fake if you think the place needs it.

I couldn’t give a fuck about the plants, but the dead leaves all over the place were messy.

Cheryl: Fake plants are not what that house needs.

I didn’t want another paragraph about what she thought the house needed, or what I needed. Or more accurately, who I needed.

To her credit, as usual, she already knew that and replied with an eye roll emoji.

Cheryl: Sauna fixed. Driver rescheduled, will be there when you land. Property mtg confirmed, nine Monday morning.

Asher: Thank you.

I had to remember to say that once in a while to Cheryl. I couldn’t afford to have her quit, and for some reason, thank you and please went a long way with her.

“Times change.” I finally looked up, meeting my old friend’s concerned gaze. “Their safety innovations could revolutionize the industry.”

“And this has nothing to do with whose company it is.” He set down his tablet on the polished table in front of him, using the brushed gold panel low on the front of his seat to adjust his chair, leaning back without breaking eye contact.

I resisted the urge to rub my temples. “The fact that it’s Richard’s company is just a coincidence.” Mike snorted. He’d been with me long enough to know better. Had, in fact, been there that day.

“Marine construction is a pretty specialized field, Mike, there weren’t that many options out there. You know I’ve been wanting to diversify. It’s just smart to buy a company with established expertise and equipment.”

“Ash, you know where I’m going with this.

Sure, HydroCore is an up and comer, but you’re balls-to-the-wall busy already, the last thing you need is to be investing time and money into a company that you’re going to have to baby along to get up to the standards of the rest of your holdings—especially not one with the additional issues this one brings with it. ”

The headache that had been brewing became a light show behind my eyes, and I finally broke down and pulled a bottle of painkillers out of my carry-on.

“Another one?” I tipped my chin at the empty bottle of water on his table.

He nodded, and I cracked my neck as I walked to the galley at the other end of the jet.

I could have had the plane staffed but I hated having people fussing around me.

It was worth it to pay extra for invisible service.

Stock the plane but don’t hover. Clean the apartment or the house while I’m traveling or at work, never while I’m there.

I didn’t mind getting up to get my own bottled water, or to pour a bourbon.

It was infinitely preferable to a twenty-two-year-old blonde flirting with me while I was trying to focus on projections.

There was always another blonde available when it was convenient. I wasn’t going to miss anything.

I cracked a bottle and tossed back a couple of pills. I hated having to take them, but when the pain was bad enough that I couldn’t focus on work, I always broke down.

Mike was right. The memories of that day still haunted me, still drove every decision I made about Pierce Construction’s direction.

But this was different. There might finally be a way to do something to significantly improve the inherent risks of underwater construction.

Risks that Mike and I were all too aware of.

When I returned to my seat, Mike had closed his eyes, but I knew he wasn’t asleep.

As comfortable as the chairs on my jet were, neither of us were very good at sleeping during a flight.

I left his water on his table and dimmed the cabin lights with a tap on the control panel, settling in to focus on the technical documents I was reviewing on my own tablet.

My phone buzzed. Shane.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” I answered, already knowing what he’d say.

“Shouldn’t you?” There was something slightly off in his voice—lighter than it needed to be, the humor sitting higher than usual. He’d probably been up since the breakup, not that he’d say so. “I know you’re on the plane.”

He’d had Cheryl send him my itinerary. Judas.

“How’s the head?”

I glanced at the bottle of painkillers still sitting on the table. “How do you do that?”

“Big meetings. Always.” Across the cabin, Mike smirked, pretending to still be resting his eyes. He’d been telling me the same thing for years. I never listened to him either.

“Yes, I took the damn pills. I’m fine, Shane.”

“Good.” A beat—easy, nothing behind it. “You know, you could go to the beach house after. Spend a few days. Marisol’s son Javier is covering while she’s out, I was down there a few weeks ago—he’s got it completely under control. And it’s been too long, Ash.”

My silence was enough. He kept going, which was the point—give him a pause and he’d fill it, and while he was filling it I could think. He was good at that. Better than he let on.

“I’ve got too much to handle with this acquisition.”

“You’ve always got too much to handle.” A pause. “One of these days someone’s going to make you slow down whether you like it or not.”

“Not likely.”

“We’ll see.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “Call me after the meeting.”

“Shane—” I started. Because I could hear the thing underneath—the flatness at the edges, the particular way he was not mentioning himself.

The breakup had been three weeks ago and he hadn’t brought it up once, which meant he was fine or he had decided I didn’t need to know.

I almost asked. Almost said how are you actually doing.

But asking meant he’d answer, and if he answered I’d have to do something with that, and I was thirty thousand feet in the air on my way to dismantle a man’s company.

So I didn’t ask. “I will. Get some sleep.”

He clicked off before I could feel too much about it.

Shane had just had a bad few months—the breakup, and something before that at work he hadn’t fully explained.

Which was how I knew he’d be calling every couple of days for the next few weeks, not about himself, about whatever I had going on.

As soon as something went sideways in his own life, he turned outward.

Focused on his brothers. Destry would probably get a call tomorrow.

No telling how long it would take him to track down Devlin.

I put my phone on do not disturb and pulled up the specs again.

This system was revolutionary. Most safety systems focused on either the workers or the environment.

This integrated both, with real-time monitoring that could predict structural issues before they became catastrophic, and maintained bio readouts for each of the divers.

If we’d had something like this back then . . .

My hand tightened on the tablet. I could still hear it sometimes—the sound that came through the comms when the support structure failed. Three seconds of noise and then nothing. Nothing for the rest of my goddamn life.

I pushed that thought away, focusing instead on the sensor network details.

The tech specs were on point. The emergency pod system was particularly brilliant.

Completely redesigned for rapid underwater evacuation, with integrated tracking to ensure no one was left behind.

The designer had thought of everything, right down to the acoustic deterrents that would keep marine life away from work zones without causing harm.

“The environmental barriers are biodegradable,” I said, breaking the silence. “Fully containing construction debris while naturally dissolving once the job’s done. No one else has anything close to this.”

Mike opened his eyes. “And that’s worth diving into underwater construction?”

I flinched at his pun, but didn’t comment on it.

“Not alone, maybe. But considering what this system is capable of—this is our chance to do something right. Something that could really make a difference. You know it’s always the local community that suffers when a project starts.

Companies pull in workers that aren’t skilled, they overwork them, they underpay them .

. . and they have no regard for their safety. ”

It was Mike’s turn to flinch. He turned to look out the window for a minute, and I pulled in a deep breath. There was never going to be anything we could do to make up for what had happened, but we could try.

“I know, man. I get it. I just want to make sure you’re looking at the big picture. It’s not going to be easy.”

“Easy isn’t what we signed up for.”

Mike nodded slowly. “You’ve got that fucking right.”

Mike closed his eyes again, and I flipped a few pages forward on the tablet to review the project lead’s CV again.

Definitely smart as fuck. MIT in three years.

He’d been working for Richard Sterling ever since.

I was less stressed about the takeover than I was about making sure this engineer stuck around afterwards.

I’d already ensured my lawyers had an offer ready for Charlie Winters in case he made noises about leaving after the announcement tomorrow.

Adam gave us a quiet update over the intercom, and the plane began to descend over the lights of L.A.

Somewhere down there a car and driver would be waiting on a private runway.

It would be a twenty minute drive to my hotel, and I’d spend the night working in the living room instead of sleeping in the Frette sheets or drinking the 2002 Cristal that Cheryl always made sure to have on ice in my room.

All that luxury, and not a single person expecting me at any of it. Just the way I’d built it.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d enjoyed a night in a hotel, instead of just passing the time there. Then again, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d enjoyed a night anywhere.

This Charlie guy better be worth it. I had more on the line here than I’d ever risked—and I wasn’t talking about my portfolio.