Page 123 of Damaged

I’m sure he’s going to ask me to withdraw my candidacy for the board of The Society. So be it. That’s fine. Two months ago, when I first shot that burglar, I thought I’d be ostracized from that group forever anyway, and I’d gotten over the fact just fine.

I’d let him release his blackmail if it only affected my relationship with The Society. But my business. My business needs to survive.

When we’re taxiing at Teterboro, I go to the bathroom and open a concealed panel under the sink. I keep a nine millimeter handgun here just in case. I put it in the waistband of my pants and sit back in my seat.

Cody wants me to meet him at an old wharf in New Jersey. I tell him I’m taking security, and he doesn’t push back, which means he’s probably not going to make an attempt on my life.

Which means this blackmail isn’t an excuse to meet. It must be real.

The sky is gray, and in New York, it’s too warm for it to snow. A cold rain beats down as Brock is waiting for me in the Mercedes. I didn’t bring security to Quebec because I thought I’d be with Sophia the whole time.

Now she’s alone. But what could I have done? Told her to come with me and wait on the plane?

No, it was the right call.

The wrong call was taking my heart from behind the safety of my skin. My ribcage. The harbor of my body and putting it in Sophia’s hands. It’s only as safe as she is now.

The derelict industrial buildings are all boarded up and raked with bubble-lettered graffiti. This is the kind of place you meet someone when you want to kill them. I’m sure Cody is trying to prove a point—no more meeting at the club. Our relationship has gone from back rooms to back alleys.

I see him standing next to his security guard. He’s in the wide open of the concrete wharf that extends into the river. His Escalade is parked sideways. He stands under an umbrella.

This loser has watched too many movies. He could’ve just sent me whatever this blackmail is on WhatsApp.

We park, and I tell Brock to wait in the car. I’m not going to take long.

I get out and leave my umbrella behind. I’m in nothing but my overcoat as I walk to Cody.

His sparse, wet blond hair looks like a wheat field in blight. It doesn’t stop him from beaming. “James. You made good time.”

“Let’s get right to it, Cody. What have you got?”

He pauses. He’s taking his time, like he’s fantasized about this moment and wants to revel in it.

He shrugs and holds his phone out. I lean in under his umbrella to watch. I see a woman enter an elevator. The footage quality isn’t exactly top notch, but I can tell it’s Sophia. A man enters behind her. For a moment, my heart sinks. I feel ill.

She’s cheating on me.

Wait. No. I’m just a dumbass and this camera isn’t HD.

The handsome devil behind her is me.

I remember this. We were going to the top floor of the Beverly Building for dinner a couple weeks ago. The elevator ride was a little long, and we had it to ourselves. I watch us kiss. I watch my hands go up her dress.

Then I watch myself turn my head up to the ceiling and survey it. I remember this. I was looking for a camera. There were none. At least, not visible. The camera was hidden, and I was so goddamn horny, I didn’t second-guess that it might be.

I watch myself press the emergency elevator stop. I take the dress straps off Sophia’s shoulders.

I watch for another minute before taking my attention to Cody. “Oh, thank Christ,” I say, and he frowns. “I was afraid this shitty camera was going to make my dick look small.”

Cody snarls. “I talked to the DA. He agrees this is a fairly open and shut case of indecent exposure.”

“Oh fuck off, Cody.” A part of me is so relieved he has nothing serious on me that I’m not rageful that he dragged me out to this rainy wharf.Yet.“Who do you think I am? Bill Clinton? This is nothing.”

“You’re young, James. And it shows. Call me a daddy’s boy all you like… At least I know how the old guard who still run the world think.”

“You know how theyactin public. In private, they’re probably wondering if Sophia and I have an OnlyFans they can sub to. They’re horny old men. I hope you didn’t fucking send them this smut.”

“Your contract is dead.”

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