Chapter 26 The Buttons
THE BUTTONS
KAIDEN
The air in Maddox's workshop hums with cooling fans.
I drop the folder onto his desk. The investigator's latest photos. “How did James appear from nowhere? I asked you to find him the moment those messages started. Last night, he was standing on her doorstep.”
Maddox doesn't look up from his monitors.
Fingers keep moving across the keys for a few seconds before he leans back.
“The guy went off the grid. I blocked any new number in his name from reaching her phone. Strangled his digital footprint.” He meets my eyes.
“I've been tracking the arsonist. Tracing the market irregularities. I haven't been sitting idle.”
I pace the narrow room. “Find out where he's staying. I want to pay him a visit.”
Maddox turns his chair to face me, takes in my clenched fists. “Doesn't it strike you as odd? He was gone for months. Emma gets involved with you, and he magically finds her apartment in a city of millions?”
The logic cuts through my anger. I think of the paparazzi photos from the fire. Emma and me, standing together in the smoke, splashed across every tabloid.
“The photos,” I mutter. “He could have seen her in the press coverage. Figured out where she was.”
“Maybe.” Maddox's eyes are steady. “Or maybe someone made sure he saw them. Someone who knows exactly which buttons to push to get you distracted.”
Before I can respond, the intercom on Maddox's desk crackles.
“Mr. Rhodes?” It's Jenny from reception. “There are some... gentlemen downstairs. They didn't want to come up, but they said you'd want to meet them.”
I glance at Maddox. He raises an eyebrow.
“Tell them I'll be right down.”
The elevator deposits me in the underground garage.
Three bikes are parked in the visitor section, engines still ticking as they cool.
Rex leans against his Harley, arms crossed.
Next to him, a man I haven't met. Tall as me but built like a wall, shaved head, tattoos crawling up his neck and disappearing under his cut.
The patches mark him as Sergeant at Arms.
Rex straightens when he sees me. “Rhodes. Figured we'd save you the trip.” He nods toward the bigger man. “This is Tank.”
Tank doesn't offer a handshake. Takes me in with a slow, assessing look. The kind that's measuring threat level, not making friends. Whatever he sees, he gives a short nod.
“Rex says you've got a situation.”
“My girl has an ex. He showed up at her apartment last night. Put his hands on her.” I keep my voice level. “I need someone who can make sure that doesn't happen again.”
Tank's jaw tightens at put his hands on her. “He still breathing?”
“For now.”
Something shifts in his expression. “Tell me about him.”
I give him the short version. James. The history of abuse. How he found her in a new city.
Tank listens without interrupting. When I finish, he nods slowly. “I'll need her schedule. Workplace, home, anywhere she goes regular. I'll get a feel for the layout. Vulnerabilities.” His eyes meet mine. “She won't know I'm there unless she needs to.”
“That's what I want.”
Rex pushes off his bike. “Tank's the best we've got. Doesn't spook. Doesn't ask questions that aren't his business.” He tilts his head toward me. “He’s doing this as a favor to the Prez.”
“I appreciate this.”
Tank is already on his bike. “She's covered, Rhodes. You have my word.”
They ride out, the rumble of their engines echoing off the concrete. I watch them go, feeling something loosen in my chest. Emma has protection now. Real protection.
My phone buzzes. Dylan.
Reminder: Lunch with Mrs. Hammond. Le Vallois. 12:30.
I'd forgotten. My mother's quarterly check-in, scheduled weeks ago. The dutiful son performance she requires to maintain appearances.
I check my watch. If I leave now, I can make a stop first. I take the Ducati. I need the wind and the roar to drown out the noise in my head.
The phone store takes fifteen minutes. I pay cash for a new device and pocket it before heading to the restaurant. Dylan doesn't need to know about this one. No one does. Until I figure out who's feeding my father information, I'm keeping a line open that can't be traced back through my assistant.
I weave through traffic, park on the sidewalk outside the restaurant, still wearing my leather jacket over my dress shirt. Helena will have to deal with it.
She's already seated when I arrive. Immaculate in cream-colored silk. She offers her cheek for a kiss before gesturing for me to sit.
“You look stressed, Alexander.” She sips her sparkling water. “I heard there was a small scene involving a rather persistent visitor from your new girl's past.”
I stiffen. “Information travels fast.”
“We're Hammonds. Information is currency.” She sets down her glass. “The board meeting for the quarterly review is approaching. I need your proxy for the voting shares. Your father is being difficult. Let me handle the friction so you don't have to.”
I recognize the play. She wants my shares to bolster her position against Victor.
“I'm considering a different path,” I say carefully. “Giving the shares back to Victor. Reverting them. Being done with Hammond business for good.”
Helena's hand freezes mid-air. For a fraction of a second, her face animates, eyes widen and mouth agape. Then she shuts it down.
“Don't do that.” Her voice is urgent. “You've worked so hard to establish your independence. If you give those shares back, he wins. Total control.” She reaches across the table and taps my hand. Her skin is cold. “Let me handle the board. Let me be your shield.”
I pull my hand away. The word shield feels wrong from her. Sounds like a cage.
“Mother, I have to go. I have a meeting.”
“Think about what I said,” she calls after me. “Your father doesn't forgive, Alexander. He only consumes.”
I walk out into the afternoon light. The Ducati gleams at the curb, waiting.
Maddox's words echo in my head. Someone who knows exactly which buttons to push.
The timing of James. Helena's sudden appearance. Victor circling.
All the threads lead back to one place.