The Family Cross Page 10

  “Edgar wasn’t happy you left the benefit early. You missed his speech.” My father paused at the door, hand lingering on the handle. His brown eyes, a mirror image of my own, were somehow more frightening inside his skull.

  “Someone was murdered outside my condo.” My hands shook. Gripping them together behind my back didn’t help either. “It was horrific, and I was having a hard time.”

  “And that officer leapt off the roof. I saw it on the news.”

  It hadn’t occurred to me that he might’ve seen the news. That he might have known about Popped Collar and Officer Farrell. My father had known about them both dying outside my door, and he couldn’t even be bothered to call?

  “Only a coward runs away, Matilda.” With every word, my ribs curled closer together to crush my heart again. “And Ashbys aren’t cowards.”

  Fourteen

  Even if my father hadn’t told me Hudson and Gerard waited in his office, I would’ve known it the second he opened the door. Hudson’s cologne soaked every pore in my nose, and beneath it there was a layer of cigarette smoke. He’d been out the night before. I didn’t need to see the hickey on his neck to figure it out.

  “Look who decided to show up?” Hudson quipped from his place in a leather chair, his red-checkered tie hanging loose behind his jacket. There were two chairs in front of our father’s desk, and despite one being empty, Gerard remained standing by the wall of windows.

  “She was probably working. She doesn’t camp out in here all day like you.” Gerard crossed his arms over his chest.

  Hudson didn’t say anything in response, but his smile vanished.

  The tension in the room would’ve been more bearable if I didn’t have more to deal with. More important things like staying alive. Richard dealing with an account he didn’t have authority to deal with didn’t matter. My father’s indifference didn’t matter. Hudson being a jerk didn’t matter. None of it mattered if I died.

  “Enough.”

  Milton’s voice echoed along the high walls of his office, bouncing along the mahogany bookshelves and high-backed chairs in the corner. There was a long glass table off to the side surrounded by ten black chairs, all of them pushed right to the edge. If he’d used the table for a meeting today, I couldn’t tell.

  “To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence, Milton?” Gerard uncrossed his arms and pushed his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. “I can think of a thousand things I’d rather be doing than standing in your office, and that includes digging my own grave.”

  “I think you speak for all of us, son.” My father walked around to the chair behind his desk and slowly pulled it back. His voice was tired now. It wasn’t tight or disapproving like it had been only moments ago.

  “I rather like it in here.” Hudson angled his head back to look at Gerard.

  “Yeah. You fit right in.” Gerard snorted. “A self-important ass deserves a self-important office.”

  “Enough, you two.” Milton left no room for argument, and he settled in his chair. While sitting down sounded nice, I didn’t dare sit beside Hudson. Instead, I stood a few feet away and hoped I could get through the rest of the meeting unscathed. “Just…enough.”

  The room shook beneath the weight of his exhaustion. My heart, twisted in grief from our conversation in the hallway, lightened as the crack in my father’s voice rattled into my eardrums.

  “This Saturday,” Milton said before my brothers could get other quips in, “you’re needed at a meeting.”

  I inhaled and closed my eyes to steady my heart. If I were still alive by Saturday, I’d rather be searching for the person who bought my kill contract. Not sitting in some meeting while assassins lie in wait.

  “A meeting?” Gerard asked with a scoff.

  “Yes. No exceptions.”

  Hudson, frowning enough to give him permanent wrinkles, threw up his hands. “I already have—”

  “Plans?” Milton snapped. “You already don’t work during the week, so spare me your attempts at sympathy.”

  The silence that followed was more telling than anything Hudson could hope to retort with. Milton Ashby had never once acknowledged Hudson was worthless. Never.

  Gerard’s eyes had widened considerably in the wake of our father’s declaration. His mouth hung open, matching the eyebrows that had long since buried themselves in his shag of bangs. His face looked how I felt. What could have happened to prompt such an outburst from a man with the emotional constitution of a brick?

  “What time would you like us here?” I asked, to detract from the awkward silence.

  Hudson sat gobsmacked, rubbing the back of his neck.

  “I told the board and Edgar five o’clock. Plan accordingly.”

  The board?

  “Why is the board involved?” Gerard asked, voice softer now.

  “Because the agenda involves them.”

  Gerard glanced at me for a moment, but it didn’t last longer than a second.

  “That will be all.” Milton leaned forward on his desk and steepled his fingers, watching us squirm in the wake of his threat.

  My father knew what he had done. He’d intended to get us in there and fighting. Worked up. He’d wanted to stoke the fires of curiosity early in the workweek so all three of us could simmer in contemplation and worry until Saturday morning. He’d planned it all, and somehow that didn’t make any of it easier to swallow.

  Hudson, surprisingly, moved first. He stood wordlessly and pulled his cell phone from his pocket, thumbs darting along on the screen. Maybe he was texting the lady who sucked on his neck and canceling their next rendezvous.

  Gerard adjusted his glasses again and stared at our father. “You enjoy this, don’t you?”

  While I couldn’t be sure if Gerard meant the chaos, instilling fear in his children, or both, the disbelief that laced my brother’s voice caught me off guard. Ever since our mother died, Gerard never spoke to Milton with anything less than scathing disdain. Now, like a child again, he squirmed.

  “That will be all, Gerard.” My father sat as an obelisk, unmoving.

  Gerard stalked past me without casting Milton another glance. He did reserve one for me, however, and the hurt lingering there was a pain I understood all too well. My heart was still raw from our conversation in the hallway.

  Yet despite knowing my father as I did, I couldn’t keep from looking at him. His behavior couldn’t stop me from noticing the tremor in his fingers he’d tried to hide by propping his elbows on the desk. Had his face always been so gaunt? Had he always looked so tired?

  “Um…” I knew my fear was painfully obvious despite pushing my shoulders back and lifting my chin. “Are you all right?”

  My father took a deep breath, never once removing his unnerving eyes from my face. He pulled his hands from the desk and folded them in his lap, hidden away behind thick mahogany and glass.

  “I will be, Matilda.”

  The door to his office hung heavy as I made my leave. My father’s behavior in combination with the weekend meeting didn’t bode well, but it also didn’t make sense. To my knowledge, there hadn’t been anything too scandalous happening within the walls of the Ashby building, and given my position and inquisitive nature, I’d have some sort of clue.

  What could’ve happened to cause the emotionally constipated Milton Ashby to wither away so quickly? If it were that bad, it would’ve hit the press already.

  “What’d you do?”

  I’d been so deep in my thoughts I didn’t see my brothers perched in the hall until I almost plowed into Hudson.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You two left the benefit early.” Hudson gave both Gerard and I pointed glares. “This is your fault.”

  Gerard crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. He was a couple of inches taller than Hudson, but spindly, and likewise didn’t look intimidating. “I’ve made the company more money this year than you have in the entirety of your tenure here. I doubt my early departure rankled him that bad
.”

  Hudson opened his mouth to retort, but Gerard cut him off.

  “And don’t blame Matilda either. She’s found more errors in accounting in her three months than the last regional director did in a decade, and she has saved the corporation millions.” Gerard rolled his gaze from Hudson’s loafers to his nose. “What have you done aside from sleep with the interns?”

  “You don’t know what I do,” Hudson spoke through closed teeth.

  “That’s funny. You’re the chief operating officer, a man that’s supposed to be everywhere with his hand in everything, and no one knows what you do.”

  I bit my tongue to keep from saying anything. Gerard was right, but being right didn’t have to be mean.

  Hudson and Gerard stared at each other. Blair had completely swiveled backward in her chair at her desk, watching the two of them fight with wide eyes. If anyone walked onto the forty-sixth floor right then, they’d get an image to fuel office gossip for the year.

  “When Dad passes the company on to me,” Hudson muttered under his breath, “the first thing I’m going to do is fire you.”

  “I know.” Gerard’s lips curled. “I can’t wait.”

  Hudson’s face reddened, but he kept his words to himself. His phone started to ring in his hand, and after another bout of staring, he walked toward the elevator with it pressed to his ear.

  “Why do you do that to him?” I asked as Hudson disappeared behind the elevator doors. “We know he’s ineffective. Everyone does. The only thing this will accomplish is both of us being unemployed when he takes over.”

  Gerard shrugged. “He’s a piece of shit, Matilda. I intend to remind him every second I can.”

  The urge to scream overwhelmed me to the point of needing air. I rubbed my temples with my fingers and strolled to the elevator alone, ignoring Blair’s floral perfume and the chill nipping at my heels from the air conditioner.

  I had to evade a hit man and navigate my family at the same time, and right then I was failing at handling both. Unless I wanted to either die or irreparably damage my relationship with my family, I needed to get a grip.

  Fifteen

  Samson sat in one of the chairs in front of my desk on his cell phone with his boots propped up on the edge, and he’d shoved aside my nameplate and penholder with his muddy soles. Eliza smiled into the receiver of her phone when she caught sight of me glaring at him and held out a pair of envelopes to grab on my way to my office door.

  My father’s weekend meeting threat clung to my insides like a bad breakfast, and I wanted nothing more than to leave and go on a hunt for this elusive contract buyer. Dealing with my family’s unrest wouldn’t keep me alive, although ignoring it certainly wouldn’t help my situation if I did manage to survive. My father had a way to make everything difficult, and ignoring his demands would definitely hurt in the long run.

  Samson didn’t turn to look at me when I jerked the door open, and even after collapsing into my chair, he didn’t acknowledge me for another three minutes. He didn’t talk much, but the person on the other side of the phone had a lot to say. I drummed my manicured nails on the desk until he hung up.

  “Cliff called in some favors and put out feelers for any news on your contract.” Samson tucked the phone in his coat pocket and pulled his feet down from the desk, scraping the dried dirt caked on his soles along the edge. He must’ve noticed my grimace because a few seconds later he swept the residual mud off onto the carpet instead. “He also gave me the schedule for someone we need to go see.”

  “Who do we need to see?” I asked and propped my chin in my hands.

  “Vee.”

  “Vee?”

  “Short for Vashti. But call her that and she’ll shoot you.”

  I gaped. “Then why do we need to see this Vee person?”

  “She’s pretty high up in Circle Seven.” Samson rubbed the side of his neck. Thanks to the fluorescents, a thin white scar glinted right under his chin. He had a little stubble growing along his jaw and throat, and a distinct white line ran through it. How had that happened?

  “Circle Seven?” I asked instead.

  “That’s what…” Samson made a face. “I can’t talk about it here.”

  Too many eyes. Too many ears. Too many opportunities for mistakes.

  “Call me crazy, but I feel like paying her a visit would only end with me…you know.” I dragged a thumb across my neck and winced. He could tell me more about Circle Seven later.

  “Nah. She’s only loyal to my old boss if it makes her money.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. “Can I smoke in here?”

  “Absolutely not.” Not only did it stink, but it would set off the smoke alarm. Samson scowled. “Wouldn’t fulfilling the contract make her money?”

  “Not enough to get her attention.” His knee bounced, and he turned the cigarette box around in his hand. My heart plummeted into my stomach as the dots connected.

  “A million dollars wouldn’t get her attention?”

  “No, and we’re old friends. She won’t get involved with anything I’m doing.” Samson’s nose scrunched up a bit, and I couldn’t help but wonder about their history. “Are you sure I can’t smoke here?”

  “Very.”

  Samson heaved an exaggerated sigh. He could get mad all he liked. I wasn’t going to subject the janitor or my nostrils to his bad habit. “Vee will be in town tonight. We can pay her a visit.”

  Richard’s face danced about behind my eyelids. The Dove. The dinner. His promotion. Ugh.

  His father’s position as CFO got him the promotion. Gerard had been right at the benefit: Richard screwed up a lot of accounts. He’d lost the company tens of thousands from simple accounting errors. While nice enough most of the time, he didn’t have the skill set required to do his job well.

  “I can’t tonight.” The words were heavy leaving my mouth. Samson stared at me so intensely I couldn’t fight a blush from taking over my face.

  “You can’t be serious. This is literally a matter of life and death.” Samson leaned forward, brows pinched, looking me over again much like he had at the coffee shop when we met.

  I buried my face into my palms and breathed in deep before peeling my face from my hands. Might as well get it over with. “I know. But I have to go to this dinner, and…well, I don’t really know what I’m going to do yet.”

  His eyes got tighter, almost closed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means this guy I’ve been dating is going to propose tonight…I think.”

  Samson stared at me, unimpressed. “Dude can’t marry a corpse.”

  “I don’t want to marry him at all! Alive or dead,” I said and threw up my hands. He completely missed the point!

  “Then turn him down, and we’ll go see Vee afterward.” Samson stood and glanced at the clock on the wall. “Take an early lunch. I need to smoke, and we need to talk.”

  Talk. I hoped he meant talk about supernatural murderers, and that definitely wasn’t appropriate for an office with glass walls. Had he found anything in his search of the building? Did he get answers while I was squirming beneath my father’s gaze and Richard’s stare?

  How utterly pathetic. I deserved to be murdered at this point.

  Eliza agreed to hold all my calls and requested a salad from wherever Samson and I went for lunch. I’d bring her a gold bar if she asked me to so long as she kept Richard and my father from calling me. If she could buy me some time to figure out my life, I’d give her whatever she wanted.

  We got to the Mercedes without incident, but Samson wanted to smoke before we ate. Since smoking in my car wasn’t an option, we stood at the edge of the parking garage and stared down into the sea of vehicles parked along Madison Avenue instead.

  “Did you find anything?” I leaned against the concrete barrier, the only thing keeping me from splattering on the pavement below.

  Samson let out a stream of smoke, but thankfully had the foresight to turn h
is head the other direction. Not that it mattered. The wind blew it right back in my face. I swatted the smoke away.

  “Can you move—” I stopped and stared at his nose. There was something—blood—around his nostrils. “Wait. What happened?”

  Samson took another drag of his cigarette, making me wait until he was done blowing out more smoke to answer. How annoying. “Nothing.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “Did you kill one of my coworkers?”

  “No.”

  His lack of transparency was enough to send me into a spiral. If he didn’t kill anyone, did he get in a fight? Did he kill someone that wasn’t a coworker? Did another hit man come to try to kill me? “Are you sure?”

  Samson put out his cigarette on the concrete rail and flicked it into the wind. If his littering set the shrubs below on fire, it was coming out of his pay. “I didn’t. But even if I did, someone’s trying to kill you. You need to get some perspective, Fancy Pants.”

  My grip on my hips tightened. Power pose. Body language had a proven link to increasing self-confidence, and given the power disadvantage between us, I needed all the help I could get.

  “I have plenty of perspective.” He rolled his eyes, but I wasn’t done yet. “So…what did you do? Why is your nose all bloody?”

  “It’s nothing.” A growl vibrated in the back of my throat. “But I did coerce one of your coworkers to let me in a storage room. Bunch of boxes and filing cabinets.”

  If this didn’t potentially help us figure out who bought my contract, I’d be asking Samson for a name. Letting random people into our file storage was a breach in security and definitely a fireable offense.

  “I’m almost afraid to ask, but did you find anything?”

  “No, but it did make me curious.” Samson jerked his head toward the car. Apparently, he didn’t want to talk about this in the parking garage. He didn’t say anything again until we were tucked into the seats. It took a lot of restraint to keep my mouth shut. “Circle Seven is the name of my old employer. They operate on secrecy and private funding. Their benefactors are one-percenters. Government officials and their black budgets. Financiers. People with cash to dump toward an institution they might need one day. An institution that, in the minds of most people on the planet, can’t exist simply because it operates using people that shouldn’t exist. Makes hiding in plain sight easy, and the ones that were lucky enough to be passed over for recruitment don’t dare say anything out of fear they’ll be killed.”