“See what happens when you listen to me?” I gloat, watching as she fights to keep the fury off her face as I lean against my doorway. Looks like things are shaping up to get interesting around here.
“Oh, I’m sure someone as great as yourself is always right. Thank you for that wonderful insight. Now, what’s the code so we can bypass this in future?” Her sarcastic tone has me itching to make my earlier thought a reality.
Shaking that thought off, I roll my eyes as I tell her, “It’s in your emails.” Then, I leave without a backwards glance at the distraction that is my new PA and her ass in that skirt.
“Do you really think we’d accept that? You’re low balling us, and we both know it,” I drawl, winding the phone cord around my finger and leaning back in my chair as I listen to the man on the other endrush to defend his offer. Marketing doesn’t come cheap, and you’d think people would understand by now that you get what you pay for. If you pay for cheap, you’ll get cheap results. Alan here has been trying to weasel out of coughing up what we quoted him, demanding to speak to whoever crafted ‘these ridiculous prices’, which landed him a phone call with me. He probably thought this would be the kind of call where I try to smooth things over, offer him a deal, and promise to handle his case directly. He’d be sorely mistaken. One thing about me: I’ll always double down on what my employees said. Even if they’re wrong, I’m not going to admit that to people like Alan. No, I’ll get them to cough up and then talk to whoever I need to internally to make sure the staff member doesn’t make the same mistake again.
Midway through his pathetic excuses, my computer pings with a message. Wedging the phone between my shoulder and ear, I continue making listening noises as I click to open the chat.
Helen.Montgomery:
Permission to take a lunch break?
Jonathan.O’Neill:
Permission granted. Use the company card, get me a sandwich from the shop across the road. They know my order.
Helen.Montgomery:
Yes, sir. Three bags full, sir.
Biting back a laugh at her use of the classic childhood rhyme, I tune back into the conversation just in time to hear him concede and offer to pay our original quote. Smirking, I seal the deal, passing his information on to the next cog in the wheel before picking up my phone.
“Brennan, any updates?” I ask as soon as he answers.
“No one is looking for either of our little friends, noteven the wife. The chatter about Senior seems to have lost a bit of traction, at least for now. And all’s fine with the clubs. How the fuck were you pulling these shifts plus the office and not collapsing?” He lists off with a groan. Sounds like the exhaustion that’s been my best friend for years now is catching up to him. Welcome to the club.
“Don’t remind me. That shit was killer.” I snort. “That’s not odd at all.”
What kind of family are the Hayeses if both her husband and son have disappeared, and Mrs Hayes doesn’t even bat an eyelash? The husband, I can understand, but the son? It makes no sense.
“Do some digging into the Hayeses. See if you can’t find out why she doesn’t care about their disappearances. And pass a message to the others to meet at Seniors after nine tonight, yeah?” At his confirmation, I hang up just as my door swings open. Looking up with a reprimand on my lips, it dies in my throat. Helen has given up on attempting to control her hair, and seeing her curls loose around her shoulders for the first time is a sight to behold.
Her arms are full of our lunch, and she’s using her hip to hold the door open. Clearing my throat, I make my way over to her, relieving her of the burden of my lunch. As I do, I graze the skin of her wrist with the back of my knuckles, and we both freeze at the contact. Her eyes flash as they meet mine. It’s a standoff, both of us caught in the grasp of the electric current zapping through us. Neither of us blink; hell, I don’t think we breath for a solid thirty seconds as we silently weigh each other up before she mutters something about eating at her desk and excuses herself.
I almost reach out, wanting to drag her into my office, to eat with her, to catalogue her likes and dislikes. I shake that stupid notion away and watch her hips sway with her steps instead. Watching her go is both a blessing and a curse, a tease and a torment at the same time.
Chapter 10
“You want to issue a public challenge?” Seamus says the words slowly, drawing out each syllable like it’s possible he misheard me. I can’t blame him. It’s practically unheard of these days and runs the risk of creating an even bigger mess for us to contain. But no matter what way I twisted the facts around in my head, I couldn’t see an alternative. Protecting Da and keeping the Points in the family are the two most important things, and if killing Billy is the only way to do that, well…hand me a gun.
Glancing around the room, I take in my mates and their varying degrees of “what the fuck”. It’s clear they think I’ve lost the plot once and for all.
“It’s the only way forward.”
“Senior approved this?” Declan presses, bracing his elbows on his knees as he pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s no doubt trying to weigh the pros and cons; fucker lives and breathes by a pro and con list.
“One better: he’s going to be on video call during it.” It’s going to require a bit of finesse and team work to do so whilekeeping his health a secret, but there’s a reason Brennan is considered our computer whizz. I just need to feed him enough info to help without compromising everything.
Easy.
And then maybe, I’ll go out and buy a winning lottery ticket.
“How can we help?” Jack might be the one saying the words, but he’s echoed by sighs and grunts of agreement that make it clear he’s speaking for all of them.
“Right now, all I need is Brennan’s help with some IT shit while we spread the word. Saturday, noon, at the Pit, I’m claiming Billy’s spot.” Shared looks of determination pass through us as we make plans to take the first steps toward our collective future. For as much as it’s my seat I’m fighting for, we all know I’ll be bringing them to the top beside me.
The days blur into an endless, monotonous rhythm of meetings, preparing for Saturday, and avoiding Helen as much as possible. Before I know it, everything’s in place, and it’s show time. Bren is at Da’s house, with strict instructions to monitor the video call and interfere if the falsified background so much as glitches. Our men may be loyal to a fault, but weakness isn’t something they’ll take lightly. And neither is the fact we’ve hidden it for so long. It won’t matter that he’s the Boss or that I’m his heir if they think we’ve betrayed them.