Page 38 of Just Between Us

JP swiveled in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees and pinching the bridge of his nose. “For years I have watched my father obliterate small businesses and rake in the profits, all while the former ownersthankedhim. How does he do that?”

I considered his question. “Charm? Charisma? False promises?” I had known plenty of shady businessmen in my lifetime, and oftentimes they were revered as thegood guys.

JP shook his head. “Control.” He chuffed out a breath. “Here’s an example: the historical society blocks the purchase of a building he wants? Fine. He’ll buy three others, only to knock them down and build a community center that he donates as a charity tax write-off. He comes out looking like the good guy, but the real win for him is simply proving he can do it.”

“Jesus.” I exhaled. “Did he really do that?”

JP nodded, and his flat stare was unnerving. “King Equities doesn’t care about small businesses or revitalizing the community. He cares about status and power and control.”

A prickle danced along my spine. “And you want to take that control for yourself?”

He huffed and shook his head.

Heavy moments passed before he finally spoke. “Something happened to my mother, and he used King Equities to hide it.” He dragged a hand through his hair, leaving it poking in all directions. “I just have to figure out—” When his voice cracked, he went silent, swiveling back toward his computer.

In that moment, he didn’t look like the suave businessman he presented as. Rather, he looked like a lost child, searching for answers about his long-missing mother.

I knew about control, and how important it was to save face. I unfolded myself from the floor, slipping into my discarded heels.

Gently clearing my throat, I slid a few file folders into my bag. “I’ve got a lead on some money trails that aren’t aligning with King Equities acquisitions. I might dig into the archives in the library and see if anything shakes out.”

He hummed, and I silently slipped out of the stifling office. Once in the hallway, I leaned against the door and sighed.

Shit, that was heavy.

It appeared ruthless, shifty businessmen in the city were nothing compared to the web Russell King had woven, and I was deep in it. If things panned out the way JP was planning, this could very well make national headlines, and my name would be attached to it. It could be the redemption I’d been praying for after Franklin & Mirth.

It still stung to accept that on paper I had resigned.

Only to myself could I admit the truth—I’d been pushed out for what I had done. No amount of foot stomping and pouting would change it.

Now it looked as though I had barely left behind one scandal only to be embroiled in another.

With my black leather bag slung over my shoulder, I left the office building. I needed fresh air and a little sunshine. The sidewalks were bustling with tourists who were shopping and finishing their lunches. I recognized the family that was renting the cute little cottage on my street. The mom was pulling a cooler on wheels while the dad dragged a wagon with their two boys behind her. The woman recognized me and offered a friendly wave.

With a smile, I returned it. It was sweet and simple but something that would never happen in the city. Everyone was in too much of a rush to get to where they were going to take the time to acknowledge an acquaintance.

From the top of the hill I could see the iconic Outtatowner lighthouse just down the roadway. Fishermen dotted the pier as kids zipped up and down the concrete walkway. The edge of the beach was barely visible, but I knew it was there. I could feel it.

I stopped to take a moment to soak up the summer sun.

How nice would it be to spend the afternoon burying my toes in the warm sand?

I sighed, tucking the wistful thought away for another day. I wasn’t there to play hooky and waste half a day on the beach.

I was there to do a job and do it well.

I crossed the street, and two women exiting King Tattoo caught my attention. They leaned into each other, giggling.

“Oh my god. Can you believe how hot he is?” the blonde said.

“Girl, those arms? That face? His tattoos?” Her friend giggled and squeezed her arm.

“Mmm.”

“You do realize when he does your tattoo, those hands are going to be all over you.” Her eyebrows waggled.

A spike of jealousy pinched in my chest. I knew exactly who they were talking about because I’d envisioned those very same hands.

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