“Any news on your missing kid?” Ryder asked.
God, he’d forgotten about Rick Gaines. But that was understandable, since the mother of his child had nearly died when her car ended up in a fast-flowing ditch and he’d discovered he had a daughter.
“Hold on a sec,” Cam told Ryder and quickly accessed his messaging app. Scanning his messages, he found the one he was looking for and released a long sigh. Rick was found at a shelter and Cam passed the news along to Ryder.
“Talking about the missing, has the body at the TCC construction site been identified yet?”
“No. And Sterling Perry isn’t talking, and neither are his people.” Ryder remained quiet for a few moments before continuing. “By the way, Perry has called an emergency meeting of the TCC.”
“Can he do that? The club isn’t official yet—it hasn’t been constituted. There haven’t been any elections of officials, and a board hasn’t been chosen. Have I missed something?”
“You missed nothing,” Ryder growled, obviously pissed. “I am furious that Perry pulled rank and called this meeting. And to make his boardroom the venue? That’s unacceptable.”
Cam knew a little of Ryder’s history with Sterling Perry. Ryder had worked for Perry, who’d fired him for no cause. There were rumors that Ryder had an affair with Perry’s wife, but Cam didn’t believe that. Ryder wasn’t the type to poach on another man’s territory. What Cam knew for sure was that Ryder was left an oil-rich piece of land by Sterling’s father-in-law and had built his massive empire on the oil he found on that land. Sterling, it was reported, had blown a gasket.
“So, are you going?” Cam asked. In the back of his mind he recalled an email about a TCC meeting but with the latest upheavals in his life—a daughter and her sexy, mind-blowing mother—TCC business had fallen way down on his list of priorities.
“I have no damn choice!” Ryder snapped back. “Everyone is going and I cannot afford to look petty. Especially since a representative from the state board of the TCC will be there.”
“Must I be there to hold your hand?” Cam teased and grinned at Ryder’s responding growl and muttered obscenity.
“I’m heading over there right now to give Sterling Perry a come-to-Jesus talk. In fact, I’m just pulling up to Perry Holdings now.”
Crap. This wasn’t going to end well. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“Probably not,” Ryder retorted. “But it will make me feel a lot better.”
“Life is...complicated at the moment but I’ll be at the meeting.”
Ryder’s voice dropped. “Are you okay, Cam?”
Cam hadn’t intended to tell him, wasn’t going to until the words flew out of his mouth. “I will be if you can tell me how to deal with having a baby daughter I never knew drop into my life. And how I should handle being reunited with a woman I’ve never quite forgotten.”
Ryder chuckled. “Holy crap, Camden. That’s huge. And, on one level, hilarious.”
Except it really wasn’t. It was his damn life.
* * *
“Angela?”
At the soft rap on her open office door, Angela Perry looked up to see Perry Holdings’ receptionist standing in the doorway to her office. Pulling her attention from the report she’d been trying to digest, she waited for Andrea to speak.
“Ryder Currin is here, wanting to talk to your father.”
Angela cursed as her heart took flight at the sound of Ryder’s name. Ridiculous, really. “My father is out of town.”
“I told him that but then he said he was sure you could take a message.”
Angela rolled her eyes. This had to be about the meeting her father had, rather high-handedly in her opinion, called, inviting TCC Houston members. Or potential members. Her father really had to stop acting like he was president of the world. So, in fact, did Ryder Currin.
Too many men, Angela thought, standing up. Not enough aspirin.
The public area at Perry Holdings was a room full of men, and a few women, but Angela immediately found Ryder Currin. It was as if she held the receiver to a homing device pinned to his shirt. Angela looked down at her blue-and-white-striped dress and wondered if the tangerine jacket was too much. Irritated with herself—she always second-guessed her outfits because she wasn’t quite as stylish as her twin, Miranda, nor as flashy as her best friend, Tatiana—she cursed her slightly damp palms and her accelerated heart rate. She was a shade off forty, dammit, a grown woman. Surely she shouldn’t be feeling fluttery when she laid eyes on him.