CHAPTER 43
Cal
Eventually I raise my face from my hands and look up at my brothers. I’ve been sitting on the chair next to Evander’s dresser in silence, eyes closed, doing my damnedest to sort this out in my brain.
I was right there in the room with Victoria and reps from the BLM, Interior, and tribal governments. I heard everything that went on. Yes, I did step away to arrange for the suite at the Fairmont and call the jeweler in Tahoe, so is that when it all happened? When she betrayed us?
I refuse to believe it. “She wouldn’t have done that,” I say for about the tenth time in fifteen minutes. I don’t sound convinced myself, so I know I’m not convincing my brothers.
Finn looks at me with sympathy. Special K’s face is as blank as a slab of granite. Declan is shaking his head, pissed as hell. And Evander looks guilty.
As he should. It was his idea to send Victoria to negotiate in his place.
And yet I still don’t fully understand what’s gone down. Maybe I’ve been too furious to pay attention. “Walk me through it again,” I tell Evander. “Explain it like I’m five. Fuck that—explain it like I’m three.”
Evander sighs, then flips his laptop around so we can all see.
“Here’s our last BLM agreement from ten years ago.
See here, where we renew our ten-year lease for the two hundred square miles of public lands between our northwest pastures and Sulfur Springs?
The way we always have and always will, with all the access rights? ”
We all nod.
Evander points to the printed document. “Here in the new version, we cancel the current lease and relinquish all rights to that BLM land. That means Sulfur Springs is no longer connected to the rest of Yosemite Ranch and becomes a standalone parcel, dramatically tanking its market value.”
“Victoria had to know that,” Finn says.
“Yeah, since she’s a land speculator,” I mumble.
“I gave her the boilerplate language,” Evander continues. “All she had to do was get the BLM to agree to terms and price. She’s a Yale business school grad, for fuck’s sake. Extending the lease was the entire point of the negotiation and the reason you flew out to San Francisco.”
“But I watched her in action. She talked them down in price. She got them to give us access to Pine Creek, which we haven’t had for three decades. I saw her do everything we asked and then some.”
“Got that right,” Special K mutters.
I’m sick to my stomach. I’m so fucking pissed off that I’m seeing spots.
But I’m not angry at Victoria. I’m angry at myself.
For the first time in my life, I gave my dick domain over my brain.
And because of that, I’ve failed at my mission—maintain the MacLaine legacy of a fully operational Yosemite Ranch.
I know better than to trust anyone outside our circle. And I knew better than to trust her.
And I did it anyway.
I jump up and snatch the document from Evander, as if I could read it again and find some loophole that would exonerate Victoria, some way to prove she didn’t do this to us.
I flip through all sixteen pages, from the introduction to the signature page, the BLM attorneys’ scrawl in the left column and Arlo’s on the right. Standard.
What the fuck did I expect? She came here to do a job for her daddy, and she did a fucking bang-up job, while fucking my brains out.
Literally.
I throw the agreement to the bed and turn to leave.
“Hold up.” That’s Declan. He’s standing right behind me. “You can’t go off snorting fire, Cal. We need a plan. We need to turn it around, make the situation work for us.”
“Like that time in Somalia,” Special K says. “Remember the translator who was spying for the terrorist cell, offloading our info to the people who could inflict the most damage?”
I’m so sick of K’s SEAL mission metaphors that I’m about to slice him to shreds, but then I realize he may be right. I turn around again, already knowing who the terrorist is in this equation—dear old daddy Nigel Backlund. The translator is Victoria.
I bark out my question. “If we relinquished our lease a few days ago, could someone else have already snatched it up?”
Evander nods, his eyes widening.
“Can you figure out—”
“On it.” Evander clicks away at the laptop keyboard, then lets out a long whistle. “Well, fuck me.”
“Let me guess. Renaissance Empowered.”
“One of their divisions, yes.”
“Hey,” Finn says. “Not everything is as it seems. There could be an alternative explanation. Victoria may not have done a damn thing to us.”
I laugh. I sound as bitter and angry as I feel.
“Here’s what we’re going to do.” Evander shuts the laptop and leans back on his stack of pillows, arms crossed over his chest. “Mention to Victoria in passing that the BLM deputy director just reached out to us after seeing the sudden one-eighty change in our longstanding agreement. Tell her they won’t finalize until we clarify. ”
“But they’d never do that,” Declan says. “They don’t give a shit whose name is on the lease, as long as the money’s coming in.”
“You’re absolutely right,” Evander says. “It’s total bullshit.”
“If Victoria’s dirty, what are we looking for?” Finn asks.
“Any echo of this bullshit,” I say. “She’ll tell her daddy and it will get back to us. And it’s all tied up in a neat little bow.”
Of betrayal.
“This is a closed-system experiment,” Evander cautions. “No one can say anything to anyone except Cal, who tells only Victoria. That way we’ll know for sure. Understood?”
We understand.
I leave Evander’s, but I’m not ready to go back to my place.
My head is spinning, and I don’t trust myself to remain calm.
The same set of facts keeps cycling through my brain: I'm a grown-ass man.
I'm a Navy SEAL. I'm CEO of a billion-dollar corporation.
But a beautiful woman in a pair of high heels shows up and I lose my fucking mind? I completely forget my priorities?
How have I let this happen?
It doesn’t matter now. It’s happened. I let it happen. It’s my mess, and now it’s my job to clean it up.
I walk. I find myself on the dock, staring at the lake water until I need to move again.
I breathe deep, getting enough oxygen in me to clear my head.
I walk out to the south paddocks and then the west pasture.
Eventually, I wander into the barn. As I continue down the center aisle, I see a light on in the office.
The door is cracked open enough that I see Arlo at this desk, on the phone.
He catches my eye and abruptly hangs up, then motions for me to come in.
“Didn’t mean to disturb you,” I say.
“Don’t be ridiculous. What brings you down here? Please, sit.”
It’s a mess in here. Arlo has never been much of a housekeeper.
“Everything okay, Cal?”
“Fine. Just needed to get some air.”
Arlo leans forward on his paper-covered desk and peers at me from under his bushy white eyebrows. His pale blue eyes are cloudy.
“You don’t look fine,” he says. “I’ve known you since you were born, Callum, and I know when something’s up.”
I shrug. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You can always talk to me. You know that, right?”
“Sure. Thanks.” I do know that. Arlo is one of us. He’s been here forever. His world has always been entwined with ours, in business and in friendship. But I can’t tell him what’s going on because I just promised everyone that I would speak to no one but Victoria.
“Is it Miss Backlund?” He grins at me. “Everyone’s noticed the two of you. I was hoping it might turn into something more—”
“No.” I cut him off and stand. “Sorry, Arlo. I don’t mean to be rude, but I gotta go. I have a roast in the oven.”
“Sure, son. Take care.”
I’m a pressure cooker when I get back to the house, but I can’t stay outside all night. I will do whatever it takes to keep the lid on with Victoria. I just don’t look forward to the conversation about why I won’t want her in my bed tonight.
I open the back door to find Jasmine gone and Victoria in the kitchen. She’s just taken out the roast and is tossing a salad. Her laptop is open on the counter next to her—planning her next sinister move, no doubt.
When she looks up at me, her eyes flash and she smiles. Like she’s the sweet and fun woman she pretends to be instead of the traitor she is.
My chest is tight with sadness. My head swims with regret.
“Where have you been?” She comes toward me. “I was just getting ready to track you down. Are you hungry?”
She reaches up, clasps her hands behind my neck, and rises on her tiptoes to kiss me. That scent, the citrus and flowers, makes me ill. When she doesn’t get the response from me that she expects, she settles back down on her feet.
That little divot appears between her brows. I used to think it was cute. Now I’m just disgusted.
With myself. With everything.
“What’s wrong?” The happiness I saw on her face is gone. She looks serious, and maybe a little scared. She may already know she’s been caught.
“I think I’m tired, Victoria. Maybe not feeling so great.” I’m frozen where I stand. My arms hang limp at my sides.
“Cal?” She reaches out and places her hand in mine. When I don’t curl my fingers in welcome she steps back. “Tell me right now. Is everyone okay? Has something happened? Your dad? Phyllis? One of your brothers?”
The only thing I see is the fucking sparkly necklace at her throat. I want to rip it off and grind it into the wood floor with the heel of my boot.
“You’re scaring me.” She’s breathing hard. I see her pulse pounding in her neck.
I’m an asshole. Because I want her, despite my fury. Or maybe because of it. And I decide to have one for the road. Because I can.