“My dad used to take a room at the Seaton Arms years ago when he wanted to get away on business. But I think he really wanted to get away from my mom and all us kids. God knows what he was up to there. It was like deja-vu staying there last night. I thought I could even smell his old cigar smoke.”
“Your father was a good man, Frank. As you know, he was one of my first investors. In those days, it meant a lot too.”
“He was. And I miss him, that’s for sure. I’m a better businessman today because of all his yelling and prodding he gave me over the years. He never liked that I worked for the IRS, until he had a big audit himself. And then he accused me of orchestrating it so he’d get off my back. But in the end, we both weathered the storm. He drilled that entrepreneurial spirit into me and trained out the wild side somehow. He was right. Made me a better man. You remind me a little of him, sir.”
“Please, Frank, we are the same age. Don’t call me sir. It makes me feel old, and I don’t need to be reminded I’m not in my twenties. It’s been how many years now? Let’s not be that formal.”
“No, I understand. Just showing some respect and wanted you to know how grateful I am to have a job with Bone Frog.”
I figured that was a little cover his ass in case I knew about the resumes being sent out. He was smarter than he looked sometimes.
“Duly noted.”
He finished off his Breakfast in Boston, and our waiter asked if he wanted another. He put up his palm, no, before checking in with me. He asked for scrambled eggs on the side, and watched as oatmeal was delivered to me, covered in strawberries.
“Wait. I’ll have one of those,” he changed his mind, pointing to my bowl.
“Very well, sir,” the waiter answered and left without a sound.
“I slept like a baby last night. How about you, Marco?”
I smiled, but my stomach gurgled and my groin got hard just thinking about the delightful romp I’d had.
But right now I had raw meat between my teeth and I was ready to tear apart the animal who had caused me pain. Now wasn’t the time for screwing or rising to new heights of pleasure. Now was the time for getting bloody, preparing for combat. I always carried my Glock, even when I was in cities where guns were outlawed. I had every license and clearance known to man to conceal carry. It would be like showing up naked to a cocktail party not to have my favorite sidearm, which had been with me longer than even my former wife.
We completed our breakfast and the table was cleared. Frank opened his briefcase and placed a sheaf of papers in front of me. Some were reports. Some were graphs attached to supporting documents. One was a subpoena.
“What’s this?” I said, holding it up between my thumb and two fingers like it was a piece of dirty laundry.
“Came in last night just before I was leaving the office. By courier.”
“Nice touch. Just before you’re to come report to me. Who leaked?”
“I think it was a coincidence, really. Your gal, Jennifer, seemed very surprised.”
I glanced at the cover page. It was an order to appear and bring records, at Rebecca’s attorney’s office.
“When it comes to Rebecca, there are no coincidences,” I said. “She shits on a timetable. I don’t think she’s been surprised since that fuck, she got at her daddy’s horse ranch when she gave her virginity up to a man she thought was a crown prince who turned out to be a royal con man instead.”
“Wow.”
“Oh, don’t be surprised. She grew up hard. Not a lot of love in that home.”
“Well, that’s harsh. I mean, sorry for her.”
“She’d slit your throat if she heard you say that, so be careful.”
Frank adjusted his tie, touching his neck right where the knife would go in smoothly for the kill, and looked at me warily. “Marco, you’re going to have to make some tough decisions. What they’re asking about is your construction project in Florida—the veteran-ownership venture, building homes for injured vets”
“Bone Frog Development. The Trident Towers project.”
“Exactly.”
“Makes perfect sense. She’d want to hit me where it hurt the most. Odd that she would go for a non-profit like that. I don’t expect to make a dime. I’ll probably lose my shirt on it. Why the hell would they care about that?”
“You’re asking me? You were married to her. Anything I’ve heard would be just gossip.”
I pushed the papers forward and leaned back in my chair, folding my hands together over my chest. Now we were getting to the good stuff. The truth.
“Try me.”
“Excuse me?” His eyes were wide and his glasses slipped down his nose, needing to be pushed back again. From years of interrogating bad guys and judging tribal leaders as to whether or not they could be trusted, I saw the dilation in his pupils, along with a slight worry line crop up between his eyebrows. He knew he got caught.
“What have you heard? Spill it, Frank.”
When a subject looks down at his hands with fingers locked together, I knew he was looking for a way out, a friendly hand to give him a solution to wiggle free.
He was out of luck.
I’d already been told he was saying to others he doubted I would survive the coming months. This was about whether or not I could trust him. I didn’t begrudge his opinions, but I damn sure better get the truth to a direct ask. This was his chance to keep his job, if he still wanted it.
“I’m a numbers guy, Marco,” he said as he raised his gaze to meet mine. He was fortunate he didn’t look away as he spoke his truth. “I’ve seen all these things coming and going, and you’re
