Page 57 of Justice Denied

Ryan digested the information. “How did you respond to that?”

“That I had no idea, since you hadn’t mentioned it to me.” He shrugged. “Then someone else came up and that was that.”

“When was this?” Ryan allowed his frustration to give a snap to his words.

“Two days ago.” Luis held up a hand. “Before you ask, I haven’t said a word to anyone else.”

“What else have you heard?” Luis had earned a reputation in college for sniffing out the facts behind many a rumor and used that knowledge to his advantage. Although he never resorted to blackmail or was particularly malicious, his friend firmly believed knowledge was power.

Luis rested his bag on the ground. “That Maxwell Technology caught wind of it and that’s the real reason for their hostile takeover bid.”

The bottom dropped out of Ryan’s stomach as his greatest fears were confirmed. He’d strongly suspected Maxwell Technology knew about Project Z because of their continued hard press after the initial rebuff by the board. Could a board member or one of the shareholders have tipped off Maxwell Technology about the project?

“Thanks for letting me know.” Ryan didn’t elaborate, and his friend took the hint and changed the subject to the upcoming game between the Washington Commanders and the Dallas Cowboys as he hefted his bag and resumed walking toward the next hole.

Ryan followed, his mind spinning. Word had leaked out about his supposed secret project. Would that help or hurt his bid to keep the company in his hands? He would have to return to the office instead of heading home. Cynthia would understand his skipping their dinner engagement at the Gordon-Lightsmiths. He’d always detested Dalia and her insipid conversations revolving around her darling grandchildren or her dogs, so missing it would be a relief. His wife only cultivated the acquaintance because Michael Gordon-Lightsmith was chair of the board of her favorite charity, and she felt a few dinner parties a year was worth it to stay in his good graces.

Ryan finished the last couple of holes on autopilot, his mind busy with how to use the information that Project Z had become more common knowledge to his advantage. The board had narrowly voted against recommending acceptance of Maxwell Technology’s bid, but one member had called for a special shareholders meeting in one week’s time. Peter had railed at Ryan, calling him incompetent and worse for allowing such a meeting to be scheduled. This time, rather than ignoring his father’s rant like he usually did, Ryan had responded in kind, reminding Peter he had approved the bylaws when he had taken the company public, bylaws that allowed for that circumstance to happen.

His lips thinned as he relished the memory of his father’s face. The older man had gaped, as Ryan’s hit had found its mark. Then Peter rallied, insisting if Ryan were a better leader, no board member would have dared to call for such a meeting.

“Good game, Mr. Topher?” Ryan jerked, so caught up in his thoughts he hadn’t realized he and Luis had arrived back at the clubhouse. The head caddy, who took care of making sure his clubs were cleaned and stored in the Topher locker at the clubhouse, reached for his bag.

“Yes, Juan. Thank you.” He slipped the man a $20, then turned to Luis. “I’ve got to run—dinner date with the wife and some people I can’t stand.”

“See you at the Children’s National charity tournament in two weeks.”

Ryan nodded, then slipped out of the clubhouse. Instead of waiting for the valet to bring his car up, he grabbed the keys and walked to the parking lot. An idea formed in his mind about how he could use the rumors to his advantage. The sure knowledge one of his siblings had sold him out burned bright in his mind. He would find out who was behind the leaks, solidify his grip on the company, and make sure other potential problems wouldn’t surface to play into the hands of those plotting for his—and his company’s—downfall.

ChapterTwenty-One

Jetta rested her hand on Bingley’s head, which lay in her lap as she sat at the kitchen table. The dog hadn’t left her side since she’d returned home from the rehab facility as if sensing Jetta’s worry over her still-missing mother. The baby stirred but the dog didn’t move. She rubbed Bingley’s silky ears, her body tired but her mind unable to focus on any thought but her mother’s safety.Please God, don’t take her from me. I need her now more than ever.

The doorbell rang. Seth had followed her home, then left to snap pictures of another construction site fire, this one on the opposite side of the county from the first one. He wouldn’t have returned so fast. Rapid knocking on the door followed another peal of the doorbell. Maybe the police had found Mom. She refused to believe the visitor was bringing bad news.

Jetta heaved herself to her feet and made her way to the front door. She hesitated, then peeked through the peephole to find Melender standing on her stoop, her long, silvery-blonde hair escaping from a single braid down her back. Jetta yanked open the door.

“Oh, thank God you’re okay.” Melender placed a hand on her chest. “When Brogan told me about your mother, I tried to call you, but your phone rolled over into voicemail. With Seth at the fire, I thought you might like some company, but when you didn’t answer my text, I was concerned something might have happened to you as well.”

Jetta frowned and checked her phone, which had registered several texts and a missed call from Melender. “Sorry, I have it on silent and must not have heard the buzzing.”

“No problem.” Bingley shoved past Jetta to greet Melender. “Hey, boy. You keeping a close eye on your mistress?”

Jetta blinked back tears at the other woman’s thoughtfulness. “You came all the way over here to check on me?”

“Of course.” Melender smiled. “What are friends for?”

Her innocent question brought forth a gush of tears. Melender nudged Bingley out of the way, then guided Jetta back into the house and into the living room. “I’ll make some herbal tea.” She gave her a push toward the sofa. “Put your feet up, and I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

Jetta sank onto the couch, toeing off her shoes and swinging her legs up on the cushions. Her mother would be appalled to see feet—even sock feet—on the sofa, but Jetta didn’t care. Tears eked from her closed lids as she battled to regain control of her emotions. By the time Melender re-entered the room carrying a tray with a teapot, Mom’s honey jar, and two cups on saucers, the tears had stopped.

“I seem to cry at the drop of a hat these days.” Jetta accepted a cup of tea into which Melender had put some honey. She drew in a breath, the scent of lavender wafting to her nose. “I smell lavender but something else too.”

“Chamomile.” Melender sipped from her cup. “It’s Yellow & Blue from Harney & Sons Teas, one of my favorite tea purveyors. I love this blend as it’s caffeine-free and it tastes good. Yes, I brought some with me just in case.”

Jetta tried a small sip. “The honey is a nice change from my usual sugar as the sweetener.”

The two sipped their tea while Bingley rested on the floor. Melender put her empty cup back onto the tray with a click. “How are you holding up?”

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