“What is it?” she asked. “Alex. What’s wrong?”
“Someone’s been quietly buying our stock out from under us,” Alex growled. “Convincing the stock- holders to sell all at once so that we wouldn’t see it happening until it was too late.”
“What?” The word burst from Jamie.
“It’s not as bad as it could be. Thirty-five percent. I’ve still got the majority holding, but I’m going to have to convince someone to sell to me so that I can hold more than half myself, or we’re fucked when they get someone else to give it up.”
“Who is it? I mean, who’s buying?”
Alex flicked his finger over the screen, scrolling down. He slammed a fist against the counter, and Jamie jumped.
“What? Alex? Who?”
“Sunrise Investments,” he said, low and choked with anger. “It’s fucking Nicholas.”
Chapter 16
Someone was out on the bloody driving range.
Mark hadn’t been sure at first because it was dark, and from the window of his apartment over the restaurant, it was a long way down. But now he was certain. He’d see the flash of light off the metal end of a club. He’d opened the window and heard the distinctive wha—ump—ting when the driver or club hit a ball. Who would be out there so late, in the freakin’ dark? The course and range were closed, which meant it was either an employee or an intruder, though what kind of person would sneak into a country club to hit balls on the driving range he had no idea.
He hopped into a golf cart and headed down to the range, where a single beam of light shone on the course. When he got there, he was surprised to find Erica swinging her club, wrapped in a trench coat that covered her from neck to calves.
“Erica?”
She ignored him, finishing the swing she was in the middle of like he hadn’t even spoken. The ball soared out over the range, a light spot against the dark. Finally, she turned.
“Mark,” she said in echo.
“What’re you doing out here so late?” Was she drunk?
“What does it look like I’m doing?” she shot back.
Mark’s eyebrows lifted, his hands lifting with them, palm-out in a gesture of peace. “I can go, if you just want some alone time. Just wanted to come out and check who was out here… and make sure that you were okay.”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“You don’t sound fine.” He stepped a little closer, since she hadn’t told him to go away. “Why are you wearing a trench coat?”
“Why shouldn’t I be?” she asked.
He didn’t have an answer for that, and wasn’t sure he should. He glanced around at the night sky, not sure where to go from there.
The sudden click of the sprinklers turning on was all the warning they got.
An instant later, water rained down on both of them, soaking through Mark’s thin button-down in seconds and leaving Erica’s hair damp and clinging. Laughing, they ran for golf cart and Mark scooted through the sprinklers to the house. Mark was glad to hear her laugh join his own as they scurried for shelter. She couldn’t be too unhappy if she was laughing.
At the door, Mark let her go through first, then followed, stepping into the darkened interior of the club house.
“Want a drink?” he asked, still chuckling.
“Yeah. I’ll take a drink.”
The sharp, sarcastic edge had gone from her voice, and he was relieved.
“What do you want?” he asked, stepping behind the bar.
“Cranberry and vodka, thanks,” she answered.