Chapter 8 - The Things Men Inherit
Gideon Marsh was charged forty-eight hours later.
Fraud.
Kidnapping.
Coercion.
Conspiracy.
Medical-record falsification.
More charges were expected.
Preston Halloway began cooperating before his attorney finished reading the indictment.
Cormack was not surprised.
Men who sold other people cheaply usually sold each other even faster.
Royce survived a gunshot wound from Calumet.
His wife’s death was reopened as a homicide investigation.
Riverline was temporarily frozen.
And Sloan went back to her apartment.
Alone.
Cormack hated that part.
He did not say so.
For three days, he stayed away.
On the fourth, he found himself sitting in a car across the street.
Fitz looked at him from the driver’s seat.
“You realize this is strange.”
“I’m checking security.”
“We installed new locks.”
“They may be inadequate.”
“Three deadbolts?”
“Cheap metal.”
“Cormack.”
“What?”
“You’re sitting outside her apartment because you miss her.”
Cormack looked at him.
Fitz sighed.
“I value my employment, so I’m going to pretend that look was gratitude.”
Cormack got out.
Sloan answered after the second knock.
She wore jeans, socks, and an old college sweatshirt.
Her hair was tied messily.
No fear.
No polished smile.
Just surprise.
“Hi.”
Cormack held up a paper bag.
“You haven’t eaten dinner.”
Sloan looked at the bag.
“Are you surveilling my meals now?”
“No.”
A beat.
“Yes.”
She laughed.
The sound hit him harder than expected.
“Come in.”
Cormack entered.
The apartment had changed.
The puzzle was finished.
Hospital bills sat in a neat pile.
A new law-school brochure rested on the table.
Cormack noticed.
Of course he did.
Sloan followed his gaze.
“Toby sent for it.”
“Did he?”
“He says I boss everyone around like an attorney anyway.”
“He’s correct.”
“Don’t encourage him.”
Cormack placed the food on the table.
Chinese.
Sloan opened it.
“You remembered.”
“You ordered sesame chicken the night after Calumet.”
“You notice too much.”
“So I’m told.”
They ate.
For a while, they spoke about nothing important.
Toby’s rehab.
Fitz’s terrible jokes.
Royce’s recovery.
Sloan’s neighbor who had called Cormack’s security team “handsome but emotionally unavailable.”
Eventually silence settled.
Not uncomfortable.
Different.
Sloan looked at him.
“Why did you help me?”
Cormack’s answer came too quickly.
“You asked.”
“That’s not enough.”
“It was for me.”
“Why?”
Cormack leaned back.
He rarely explained himself.
Explanation was a type of exposure.
Sloan waited without pushing.
That made it harder.
“My father believed everyone belonged to someone.”
Sloan stayed still.
Cormack looked toward the window.
“He controlled employees. Politicians. My mother.”
His jaw tightened.
“When I was sixteen, she tried to leave.”
Sloan said softly, “What happened?”
“He used my younger sister to make her come back.”
Sloan’s face changed.
Cormack continued.
“My sister died two years later. Not because of him directly.”
A pause.
“But by then my mother had stopped trying to escape.”
He looked at Sloan.
“When I saw Marsh’s hand on your wrist…”
The rest stayed unspoken.
Sloan understood anyway.
“He reminded you of your father.”
“Yes.”
“And you?”
“What about me?”
“Did I remind you of your mother?”
Cormack considered it.
“No.”
Sloan waited.
“You reminded me of what she might have become if someone had believed her the first time she asked.”
The room became very quiet.
Sloan looked down at her hands.
“Cormack.”
He waited.
“I was terrified of you.”
“I know.”
“At Calumet. Even after you rescued us.”
“I know.”
“But then you carried Toby.”
Cormack’s gaze lowered.
“You didn’t make him feel weak.”
“He was weak.”
“That isn’t the same as making him feel it.”
Cormack looked at her.
Sloan smiled faintly.
“You notice things.”
“So do you.”
Their eyes held.
Cormack stood slowly.
Sloan stood too.
He moved closer.
Then stopped.
No assumption.
No hand on her wrist.
No demand.
He waited.
Sloan understood the question.
She stepped into him.
Their kiss was gentle.
Almost uncertain.
Nothing like either of them.
Cormack touched her face as though she might change her mind.
Sloan’s fingers curled into his jacket.
When they separated, she laughed softly.
“What?”
Cormack frowned.
“You looked terrified.”
“I was.”
“You walked into Calumet Harbor with four men.”
“This was different.”
Sloan smiled wider.
Cormack realized he would probably spend the rest of his life wanting to see that expression.
Then Sloan’s phone rang.
Toby.
She answered.
“Hey.”
His voice came through the speaker.
“So are you kissing Batman?”
Sloan froze.
Cormack stared at the phone.
“Toby.”
“What? Fitz said—”
Cormack closed his eyes.
Sloan burst out laughing.
“Toby Whitaker, I will personally unplug your Wi-Fi.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
She hung up.
Cormack reached for his phone.
“Who are you calling?”
“Fitz.”
“Why?”
“To discuss confidentiality.”
“Don’t murder him.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
Sloan narrowed her eyes.
Cormack added:
“Probably.”
Her laughter returned.
For the first time in years, Cormack’s home did not feel like a place he owned.
It felt like somewhere he might want someone else to enter.
But happiness had never arrived in his life without a bill.
The next morning, Riverline’s lead bank withdrew financing.
By noon, two investors followed.
At 3:00 p.m., federal prosecutors requested every financial record connected to Cormack Vale’s companies for the previous decade.
Fitz placed the subpoena on his desk.
“They’re coming for everything.”
Cormack looked toward the skyline.
He had expected this.
Sloan had not.
“You could lose Riverline.”
Cormack turned.
“Yes.”
“Maybe more.”
“Yes.”
“This happened because of me.”
“No.”
“Cormack—”
He walked toward her.
“Listen carefully.”
She looked up.
“I spent ten years trying to turn Riverline into proof that I was not my father.”
He glanced at the subpoena.
“If it only survives by protecting men like Gideon Marsh, then it proves the opposite.”
Sloan’s eyes filled.
Cormack continued.
“I’ll lose it before I become him.”
May you like
That night, for the first time, Sloan understood something about Cormack Vale that frightened her more than his reputation ever had.
She was falling in love with him.
