Chapter 24 #2
Tatum looked at Archer. "So why suddenly kill them when they're all set to go to prison anyway? Slap on the wrist, they disappear, they get paid off. Why kill North and Lebowitz?"
"North tried to blackmail Anderson," Kelly said.
His voice had gone flat and quiet. He reached for the scotch bottle, found it empty, and set it back down with a dull thud.
"He was terrified of going to prison. Didn't matter that it was supposed to be easy time.
The idea of being locked up had him completely undone.
So he told Anderson he knew someone else was behind it all, and if anyone asked, he'd offer up Anderson.
He wanted his fifty million now and his freedom, and he'd disappear. He wasn't going to prison."
Kelly's voice shook. "He told me he'd done that.
I told him it was the stupidest thing he'd ever done, and then I tried to get as far from him as possible.
" He stopped and pressed his knuckles to his mouth for a moment.
"And then they killed him. And they took out Lebowitz because now we're all a danger to them. And I know I'm next."
He looked at Archer, and the desperation in his eyes was raw and unguarded. "Archer, you can't let that happen. You gotta keep me safe, man. I know what I did is horrible. I know that. But…please."
Archer nodded. "That's why you're here. Don't leave the Society building. You'll be fine."
"Am I supposed to spend the rest of my life here?" Kelly groaned, but the fight in his voice was gone.
"For the foreseeable future," Archer said unsympathetically. Kelly had made his bed, and as far as Archer was concerned, the man was getting off way too easy. "I have more questions. But first, you're going to shower, and I'm going to have this place cleaned up. My office in forty-five minutes."
Kelly looked like he might argue. Instead, he just nodded, the nod of a man who had stopped having preferences about much of anything.
Archer picked up the phone, ordered a cleaning crew, and called Ryker. "I need you to stay with Kelly. Make sure he showers and sobers up. My office in forty-five minutes."
"Got it," Ryker said.
Archer looked at Tatum. "Come on."
The door opened, and Ryker walked in. He stood across from Kelly, taking in the state of the room with the expression of a man who had seen considerably worse.
"I got this, boss," Ryker said.
Archer nodded to Tatum, and the two of them left. They walked into Archer's office, and he closed the door. He crossed to the bar and poured himself a drink. He needed one.
"I'll take one of those," Tatum said.
"I'm not sure you should with your head."
Tatum rolled her eyes. "I told you, I don't have a concussion. I'm fine."
Archer gave a small shrug and put two fingers of bourbon in a glass with ice. He handed it to her, letting his fingers brush hers for just a moment, and she looked up at him. Neither of them said anything.
"What do you think?" he asked, moving to his chair. He sank down, mostly to hide the burgeoning situation at the front of his pants. This woman…
"I think he was telling the truth. Kelly told us what he knows." She turned the glass slowly in her hands. "I'm not sure what else he can tell us."
"I'm going to get him to give me bank names and company names. And I have a few other questions about the Society's rules."
Tatum looked up. "You're thinking Davis broke some rules here."
Archer raised his glass. "Here's hoping."
She nodded slowly and then stared at the bourbon for a moment. "Ryker brought all my stuff. It's in the apartment?"
"It is."
"Good." She set down the glass and got to her feet, and he watched her move carefully, still favoring her head without realizing she was doing it. "I want to go over some of the paperwork with fresh eyes."
"Anything I get from Kelly, I'll bring to you."
Her eyes met his. "You promised you wouldn't hold anything back."
"I won't."
She held his gaze for a beat longer than necessary, then looked away. She looked like she was going to say something. Instead, she drank the last of her bourbon, set the glass down quietly, and walked out.
Archer sat for a moment after the door closed.
He had to fight everything in him not to follow her. Not to go back to last night, to the way she'd felt in his arms, the way she'd looked at him.
He'd gotten up this morning knowing it couldn't happen again. He was a target, and she was already in enough danger without him adding to it. He needed to clean up Davis and Anderson and find the Curator before anyone else got hurt.
But if it came to it, if there was no other way, he knew what he would do. He would end Kelly himself. The case would die. Tatum could try to sue Granite Industries, but there was nothing left, and she'd know it. It would be over.
She'd be safe.
He'd spent his youth on the streets of Europe doing things most people couldn't imagine. He had no hesitation about doing what was necessary to protect someone he cared about. And he cared about Tatum. More than he'd cared about anyone in a very long time. More than was wise.
He thought about Davis. It still surprised him mildly that Davis was involved in trafficking.
Davis liked to see himself as above that kind of ugliness.
However, he was friends with Eli Fisher, and that sort of activity was right up that asshole’s alley.
But after the vice presidency imploded, Davis had needed money, and he'd needed relevance more.
Whoever the Curator was, they had known exactly how to use both of those needs against him.
The Curator had a gift for finding people's pressure points. Davis applied them to others. The Curator applied them to Davis.
His phone went off. He glanced at the screen and swore under his breath.
He answered. "Austin."
"Archer." Davis's voice was warm and easy, and completely artificial. "I'd like to call a meeting of the board."
"We don't have one scheduled for another month."
"I know, but I think we need a discussion. A deep discussion about these cameras."
"Austin, I told you. There are no cameras."
"That's not what I'm hearing," Davis replied. "You're hiding things, Archer. Keeping secrets. It's time for some transparency."
"If you want to call a board meeting, you need to give me proof. I'm not dragging everyone in based on hearsay. I'm quite busy. Call me when you have something concrete."
“I do have something concrete,” Davis said, his voice smug.
“I have already sent out the email. The board meeting will be in three days. I invoked the bylaw that allows board members to call an emergency meeting when there is an issue before the board that the head of the Society refuses to address. I had Fisher sign off on it and Alan Forgerty, which is the requirement. Two board members to back up my claim.”
“I see,” Archer said, his voice even, but his stomach had knotted, and bile was creeping up his esophagus. This was it. The board meeting would be the last battle in their war, and Archer had to win. “Then I guess I will see you in three days.”
He ended the call.