Page 72 of Nothing To Lose
My hands trembleas I read it again. And again. Trying to decipher the obvious threatening undertones. Whose future is at risk? Mine or Isaacs? What kind of information could he have that could affect Isaac's business?
He wouldn't. Would he?
Of course he would.
I stand up so fast I nearly knock over my chair, my untouched drink forgotten. I find an Uber close by, and go directly to my father's office. I need to know what that bastard thinks he has on Isaac, then somehow make sure he doesn't do anything stupid.
* * *
The elevatorto my father's top floor office is silent aside from the buzz of a dying fluorescent light. The doors open to a sterile, cold lobby, all marble floors and modern furniture that no one actually wants to sit on. My father's assistant sees me making a beeline directly for his office and gives me a tight smile. She buzzes me through, either realizing I'm there to make a scene, or expecting me. I'm sure I arrived just on time.
Sure enough, he's waiting at his desk like he was expecting me. I ignore his smug expression, because I'm here for one thing and one thing only.
"What is it?" I demand, standing rather than sitting on the opposite side of his massive desk.
"Tyler," he says, voice smooth as the lying sack of shit attorney he is. "I wasn't sure you'd come."
The look I give him could cut through steel.
He sighs like I'm exhausting. Like I've always been. Then he opens a sleek black folder and slides it towards me.
"Your boyfriend is an interesting fellow. His background has a few red flags, though, if I do say so myself."
"You did a background check on my boyfriend?"
"Of course not. I hired a private investigator to do it for me. He came upon some pretty concerning stuff, I'm afraid."
I sit. Slowly. My hands pick up the folder before I can stop them.
School records. Transcripts. Disciplinary reports from when he was in grade school. A copy of his GED. Credit report. Records of unpaid balances and delinquencies from years ago. Proof of his involvement with an illegal fighting and gambling ring.
None of this is anything I didn’t expect or already know about.
There's a document with notes written in the margins. It looks to be a falsified work record. Isaac lied about his age and experience to get a job on the oil rig his father died working on. I can't even bring myself to be surprised. He was desperate.
Then there are the photos.
Isaac in a dark warehouse, surrounded by people. Shirtless. Blood on his knuckles and on his teeth, which are bared in a feral grin.
He's terrifying. Wild.Beautiful.
I stare at that photo a little too long. My heart aches in a way I can't explain.
"That particular photo was taken a week ago," my father says pointedly. "Not surprising that a man like him would be involved with illegal activities, honestly. You know what they say about lying with dogs." He gestures vaguely, as if bored by the discussion.
"Are you going to tell me why I'm here?"
He raises a disdainful eyebrow, clearly unimpressed that I am aware or uncaring about the information he's presented to me.
"I don't need to tell you how certain people are about things like these," he says vaguely. "It would be a shame if the Small Business Association were to catch on, though. They're already uncomfortable with someone like him opening a fighting gym in their town." He leans back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach. "I know people. People on the town council. The SBA. The zoning board. The mayor's office. I'm on an advisory committee, you know."
"Since when?"
He shrugs nonchalantly. No doubt he paid his way in to influence Isaac's likelihood of being successful. I wouldn't be surprised if he was responsible for some of the trouble Isaac's been having lately.
"Why are you doing this?" I ask pointedly, glaring directly into his beady eyes. "Is this because I don't want to follow your plan? Or because I chose him over the business connection you arranged?"
My father leans forward and puts his forearms on the desk, steepling his fingers. "I don't want you throwing your life away. You were meant for more than to be used and tossed away by someone so beneath your status."
