Chapter 3 - The Man Who Bought My Brother
Kyle had three broken ribs, a fractured wrist and sixteen stitches above his right eyebrow.
He was also furious.
“I wasn’t drunk.”
“I know.”
“I wasn’t speeding.”
“I know.”
“The brakes stopped working.”
That one made Gideon look up.
We were in a private room at St. Catherine’s Medical Center outside Worcester. Gideon had somehow moved Kyle from the emergency department into the hospital’s secured wing within twenty minutes of our arrival.
I stood beside my brother’s bed.
“Tell him what happened.”
Kyle looked at Gideon.
They had met only twice before.
Neither occasion had gone well.
Kyle disliked Gideon because he believed my employer was dangerous.
Gideon disliked Kyle because he believed my brother had made me vulnerable to Alister.
Neither was entirely wrong.
“I left the lab around eleven,” Kyle said. “Car felt normal until Route 9. Then the brake pedal went soft.”
“Anyone work on it recently?” Gideon asked.
Kyle hesitated.
“Pemberton’s mechanic.”
I closed my eyes.
Kyle looked at me.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That isn’t your nothing face.”
Gideon saved me.
“Why was Pemberton’s mechanic working on your vehicle?”
Kyle frowned.
“Alister said my brakes sounded bad at dinner last week. Offered to have his guy look at them.”
Gideon and I exchanged a glance.
Kyle noticed.
“What the hell is happening?”
I placed the folder on his blanket.
He read for seven minutes.
His face lost color.
When he reached the page showing Haverford Strategic Holdings, he stopped.
“That’s impossible.”
“It isn’t,” I said.
Kyle looked sick.
“I signed those restructuring documents.”
“Yes.”
“I thought they were keeping the company alive.”
“They were transferring your obligations.”
He flipped another page.
“I never authorized this fee.”
“I know.”
“This signature isn’t mine.”
Gideon stepped closer.
“Which one?”
Kyle pointed.
The signature looked perfect to me.
Kyle shook his head.
“I stopped writing the middle initial after college. Look at the old investor documents. I sign Kyle Nash, never Kyle R. Nash.”
Gideon took out his phone.
“Photograph every page with a middle initial.”
Kyle stared at him.
“You think Alister forged these?”
“I think somebody did.”
Kyle looked at me.
Then his expression changed.
“Emery.”
“What?”
“He asked about Ferris.”
Gideon went still.
“When?”
“Months ago.”
“What did he ask?”
Kyle swallowed.
“Whether Emery ever brought work home. Whether she had access to acquisitions. Whether Ferris Group was really bidding on the Calder contract.”
I felt physically ill.
“You never told me.”
“I didn’t think anything of it. He was talking business.”
Gideon’s voice was dangerously quiet.
“Politicians rarely talk business for entertainment.”
Kyle bristled.
“And crime bosses do?”
“Kyle.”
“No, Em. We’re trusting him now?”
Gideon did not react.
“I don’t require your trust.”
“Good.”
“I require you to stay alive long enough to testify.”
Kyle stopped.
“Testify?”
“Potential fraud. Forgery. Corporate espionage. Depending on where the money came from, possibly campaign finance violations.”
Kyle looked at me.
“This is because of me.”
“No.”
“Yes, it is.”
“It started with you,” I said. “That doesn’t mean you caused it.”
His eyes filled.
I had not seen my brother cry since our father’s funeral.
“I thought he saved me.”
“So did I.”
Kyle turned toward Gideon.
“Why do you care?”
The question sat between us.
Gideon could have given a dozen professional answers.
He gave none.
Kyle looked from him to me.
“Oh.”
“Kyle.”
“Oh, hell.”
“Not now.”
“You’re in love with my sister.”
Gideon’s jaw tightened.
I wanted the hospital floor to swallow me.
Kyle actually laughed, then grabbed his ribs.
“Bad idea,” he gasped.
“Kyle.”
“You’re both idiots.”
Gideon almost smiled.
Almost.
Then the door opened.
A security officer entered.
“Mr. Ferris.”
He handed Gideon a sealed envelope.
“Delivered downstairs for Ms. Nash.”
My name was written across the front.
No return address.
Gideon put on gloves before opening it.
Inside was a photograph.
Me.
Leaving Ferris Group that morning.
On the back were six words.
WE ONLY NEED HER TO COOPERATE.
Kyle went pale.
Gideon did not.
He became terrifyingly calm.
“Who delivered it?”
“Courier. Cash job. Fake name.”
“Cameras?”
“We’re pulling them.”
My phone rang.
Alister.
Everyone stared at the screen.
“Answer it,” Gideon said.
I did.
“Hello?”
“Darling.”
Alister sounded warm.
Concerned.
Perfect.
“I just heard about Kyle. Is he all right?”
I looked at my brother.
Then Gideon.
“He’s hurt.”
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
Silence.
I had almost never told Alister no.
“Emery?”
“He needs rest.”
“So do you. Come home. I’ll have someone stay with Kyle.”
Home.
He meant his Beacon Hill townhouse.
Not mine.
“I’m staying here.”
Another silence.
Then his voice softened.
“I know you’re frightened. But this is exactly why you shouldn’t spend so much time around Ferris.”
My blood chilled.
I had never told him Gideon was here.
“Why would you think Gideon is with me?”
A beat too long.
“I assumed.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s obsessed with controlling you.”
Gideon’s eyes never left mine.
Alister continued.
“Saturday is important, Emery. We need to present stability.”
“My brother was almost killed.”
“Your brother had an accident.”
The certainty in his voice frightened me more than anger would have.
“How do you know?”
“What?”
“How do you know it was an accident?”
Silence.
Then:
“I’ll call tomorrow.”
He hung up.
Nobody spoke for several seconds.
Kyle finally whispered, “I’m beginning to understand why you hate him.”
Gideon looked at the phone.
“I don’t hate him.”
Kyle raised an eyebrow.
“No?”
Gideon’s gaze became flat.
“Hate is emotional.”
He looked toward the photograph.
“This is logistical.”
At 1:12 the next morning, Gideon took me to a secured penthouse above the Charles River.
I stood in the guest bedroom while he checked the windows himself.
“You sleep here.”
“And you?”
“Outside.”
“There are six bedrooms.”
“I know.”
“You don’t have to guard my door.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Why?”
He turned.
Five years of silence seemed to fill the space between us.
Then Gideon said the thing I had stopped allowing myself to hope for.
“Because Kyle was right.”
I could barely breathe.
“About what?”
May you like
His eyes held mine.
“You know exactly what.”
