Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 53052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
“What I’m going to tell you has to be confidential, except for Lucas because he needs to know, too. But it’s not my story to tell, and the only reason I’m revealing it to you is because it impacts the new club.”
Tristan leans forward in his chair. “Whatever it is, we’ll deal. Confidentiality goes without saying.” He inclines his head and waits for me to speak.
“Taylor has a … situation.” I go on and detail her problem with Senator Chandler Cross and my phone call to the man. “He’s more than two steps ahead of his opponents. If it didn’t stand to hurt our club, I’d have to admire his chess play.”
Tristan scrubs a hand over his face, then says, “Kaylee had an asshole ex, too. But he wasn’t a threat to anything but his own ego, though he did give breaking us up his best shot.” He rubs his thumb over his lower lip. “As for the Charleston club—”
“I’m not going to let him derail us any more than I’m going to allow him to continue to torment Taylor. She’s mine and I’ll protect her with everything I have.”
“That makes her one of ours.” Tristan smiles, but it’s more of a pulling of his lips that reassures me he’s not kidding around. “We’ll figure out all the angles,” he tells me. “Starting with me talking to our lawyers in Charleston to see what we can do about any attempts to screw up obtaining those permits.”
I pick up a pen left from the desk and roll it between my palms. “One of my cousins, Damon Prescott, is married to a PI. Her name is Evie Wolfe. Now Prescott.”
“Retired football player.”
“Right. I’ll give Evie a call and see what she can dig up on the senator. He’s got his hands in so many pies, I can’t imagine there isn’t a trail of some kind for her to follow. Anything I can find to induce him to back off.” Sometimes it pays to have so many relatives in the area.
Tristan nods approvingly but he leans forward, his expression serious. “I mean it when I say I have your back, but we’re dealing with someone with the right connections. This might be a fight we can’t win.”
I brace my hands on my desk and rise to my feet. “I won’t accept that.” Not for our business and definitely not for Taylor. I’m going to free her from that son of a bitch and then she can decide what she wants for her future.
I’m hoping that’s me, our baby, and the family we could be.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Taylor
It’s only been three days since I was honest with Jack about Chandler and though I’m glad I shared this with him, my ex lived up, or should I say down, to my expectations of him as a first-class jerk. Apparently, he’s been having me watched, already knew about Jack, and threatened to undermine his new nightclub.
I’m due home soon and though I considered leaving early, now that Jack is on Chandler’s radar, returning won’t change anything. It will just give the senator what he wants while hurting someone I care about.
Despite my worry, Jack doesn’t seem concerned. He’s hired a private investigator to look into Chandler’s dirty dealings, and his lawyers are preparing to take on the senator if there are issues with the permits. I admire his calm. I, on the other hand, am not sleeping well and it’s been hard to enjoy my time here when, internally, I’m freaking out.
As a means of exerting some kind of authority, I don’t return any of Chandler’s messages, no matter how unsubtle they become. He’s angry and wants me to promise I’ll be home in time for that festival so he can look the part of the powerful senator with the doting woman on his arm. I’m in no mood to pacify him. I don’t worry he’ll throw me under the bus because of my so-called involvement with his campaign fraud. Should he pull that trigger, I’ll pull mine and we’ll both go down. Not something Senator Chandler Cross wants to happen.
I’m on my own this morning. Jack has a meeting with his partners, so I walk downstairs to the lobby. I approach the front desk and discover on the daily hotel paper that there is a yoga class on the beach in ten minutes. It sounds like the perfect antidote to anxiety, so I rush up to my room to change and hurry outside, walking past the restaurant and the sitting area until I finally reach the sand.
I spend the next hour under the Florida sun, breathing deep, inhaling the scents of salt water and coconut sunscreen, stretching, and finding some measure of peace. By the time the class ends, I’m more relaxed than I’ve been in a long time.