Page 86 of Due Dilligence (Takeover)
Chapter Eighteen
Todd sprinted from the public parking garage to Fazil and Eli’s hotel, blood pounding in his ears and the scene from earlier playing out in his mind.
Same horror, same shock. He’d left the meeting and gone back to his cube. But his gut had burned with fire and anger, so he’d gotten up and walked into Sandra’s office while she was still on her call with the board.
He must have had every emotion on his face, because her hand hit the mute button and the next words out of her mouth were “Close the door and sit.” He’d sat there while she finished. Then, as she grew paler with his every word, he’d told her what had happened at the meeting she’d ditched.
Once back in his cube, the rest of the day had been excruciating. He hadn’t dared venture to Fazil’s and Eli’s conference room. It might have been his imagination, but every time he got up—for water or tea or even to take a piss—Nathan was there. That sent a bolt of ice into his heart.
He’d called Fazil as soon as he’d gotten into his car.
“We’re at the hotel,” Fazil said. “Getting drunk.”
Todd found them in the bar. Neither man smiled when he approached their booth, though Fazil’s shoulders dropped and his face softened.
“Thanks for coming.” He slid over to give Todd room.
Todd sat, and Fazil’s hand was in his, warm and real. “Are you all right? Are you both...” The answer was obvious from Fazil’s death grip on his hand.
They weren’t.
There were dark circles under Eli’s eyes, and he shifted in his seat. A half-empty martini glass sat in front of him. “I’m feeling better now.” Soft words.
This wasn’t good. “What can I do to help?”
“Take good care of Fazil next week. Keep the assholes away from him.” Eli lifted his drink and there was a shaking in his hand.
“I’ll befine,” Fazil said in a tone that meant he’d said it several times before.
An argument in progress. Eli’s words sank in. “Wait, Fazil will be here next week?”
Fazil gripped his full glass of beer. “In theory. We’ll see what happens tomorrow.”
“You’ll stay.” When Eli looked over, his eyes were rimmed with red. “In the same situation, I would, despite my better judgment.” He tipped his drink to Todd.
Because of him. Todd squeezed Fazil’s hand.
“Well, there’s also the job. I don’t want to let Sam down.” Color touched Fazil’s cheeks.
That drew a smile out of Eli, but it clashed with every other line on his face. “That makes two of us.” Choked words. Eli cleared his throat and took a sip. “Don’t you dare tell me it wasn’t my fault again. I know that.”
“I don’t work with Ryan. He’s not going to come after me.” He lifted his beer. “Besides, I’m not your typical Muslim.”
Todd’s blood ran cold. That didn’t matter to someone like Nathan, whodidwork with Fazil.
“Fazil, my beer-drinking, bacon-eating, queer compatriot, you can’t change your blood to these people. That’s all they see. Believe me. Iknow.” Eli threw back the remainder of his drink. “It’s not just Ryan.”
“That was three, by the way.”
Eli set down the glass. “I’m not so drunk I can’t count.” He frowned at the glass. “I’m also not so drunk that I don’t regret saying I’d stop at three.”
There was a tiny smile from Fazil. “I won’t tell.”
“Yes, you will.”
Todd shrugged. “I won’t. Looks like you only had one from here.” He raised his hand to flag the waiter. “And I wouldn’t mind having a beer.”
In the end, Eli didn’t order another. Todd chose the second beer the waiter rattled off—a local IPA. Didn’t matter to him. All the local beers were good.
