Page 40 of The Biker's Brother

Bargaining.

Anger.

Revenge.

He wasn’t just angry about the loss of potential wealth. He was livid about the idea of being bested. He could not lose to his soon-to-be ex-wife. Hewouldnot lose to his soon-to-be ex-wife.

It didn’t matter what it cost him. He had to be the winner. Nothing less was acceptable. Sitting in the dark in the penthouse he’d once shared with Camden, he hatched a plan featuring Rich Hillfort as the lynchpin.

The next morning he phoned Heather Rebus. She was one of Mr. Carmichael’s three administrative assistants. She was a flamboyant orangey redhead who liked to wear red dresses, red lipstick, and stud earrings that always drew his attention because they were pearls far too big to be real, at any price.

When he’d first married Cami, Heather had made a point of flirting with Trey every time he went to see Carmichael. Not innocent flirting or romantic flirting, but fuck-me flirting. So he did.

Repeatedly.

Until he was tired of it and tired of her. But he’d managed to not burn the bridge by telling her that his wife was getting suspicious. He hated to give up his rendezvous, but what could he do? He was a married man.

The next morning he called her number. The contact had been disguised on his phone as Heath Inc.

“Mr. Carmichael’s office.”

“Heather, darling,” Trey purred.

“Hey, baby.” She dropped her voice as if she was talking to a lover. He almost rolled his eyes.

“How are you?”

“Not wearing any underwear if that’s what you’re asking. I heard you may soon be single.”

“Indeed. And when I am, guess who I’m calling first?”

She giggled. “Hope that’s me.”

“Who else?” he said. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll be in touch.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, I almost forgot. Is Carmichael going to be out of town anytime soon?”

“I can look. Why?”

“I don’t want him to see me surprise you at work. You know. I was married to his daughter.”

“Surprise me at work?” She sounded breathless. “Let me look.” After a brief pause, she said, “He’s going to the house at Kennebunkport on the twenty-second.”

“Good girl. See you soon.”

He ended the call wondering how God could have made women who were so gullible.

At precisely 10 a.m. on the twenty-second, Trey called Richard Hillfort.

“Hillfort,” he answered.

“Hello, Rich. It’s Trey.”

“Yes. I see that. You’re still in my contacts.”

“Right. I was wondering if you might get free for lunch?”

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