But I have a video that might. And right now, it’s a bargaining chip burning a hole in my pocket.
“I need to try.”
“By all means…” I gesture her way.
Sloan reaches for her phone, then eyes the people in the suite across the floor. “It would be better if I did this from home.”
In case her deadbeat father says something to upset her.
“Good call. Let’s go.”
We pack up and leave the suite as bare as the day Sloan rented it. I won’t be sad to leave this place. The desk is a bit too low for my tall frame, so between hunching over to see my computer and the shitty, unsupportive chair, my back is killing me. But the truth is, we can’t rule the throne from exile. We need to storm the castle first.
After we shove everything in the back of her car, she’s still visibly upset, so I take her shoulders in hand. “Why don’t you let me drive, baby?”
“I can do it.”
I swipe my thumb across her tear-stained cheek. “I know you can, but I’m trying to lighten your load. Why don’t you let me?”
“I can’t rely on you.”
Damn this stubborn woman. “Because you still think I’m the enemy?”
She takes so long to answer, I’m almost convinced she’s not going to. “No. Because I have to stand on my own two feet.”
“You don’t.”
“You won’t be here soon, and this will be my battle to fight alone.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
Her face hardens. “Get in the car.”
The ride back to her apartment is silent and tense. Wordlessly, we unload everything, then she disappears into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
Fuck this day. And fuck Shane. He isn’t smart…but he’s not as stupid as I thought.
I need to see Bruce Rawson. If I can’t, my plan is going nowhere, and Reservoir will be defunct in less than two weeks. The good news is, that means less competition for Wynam’s business. The bad news? Their demise will give more legs to some of the up-and-coming players in the data storage game. If Stratus can stay on top and either absorb or control Reservoir, all the Davids out there will find it damn near impossible to catch up to our Goliath. But the biggest reason to make this work is Sloan herself.
Suddenly, the phone in my pocket buzzes. The number on my display isn’t one I recognize. “Sebastian Shaw.”
“You meddling motherfucker,” says an unfamiliar voice that cracks and sounds slightly wizened with age.
“Mr. Rawson?” How did Bruce get my number?
“You think you’re pretty clever, don’t you?”
The old man wants to chew me a new asshole, and I’m not going to make it easier by admitting anything. “Excuse me?”
“Pretending to be the contractor I hired so you could have an open-book view of Reservoir’s financials. You must be quite the player, too. Sloan seems too smart to fall for your BS. Unless you fucked all the sense out of her.”
“That’s your daughter you’re talking about.”
“Shut your mouth.”
“I won’t. I’m not sleeping with Sloan—and not for lack of trying. She’s a smart, tough businesswoman, and you’ve undervalued her—to your own detriment. I can prove that. Just like I can prove Reservoir is about to go under.”
“Bullshit,” he growls.