“Yeah.” Harry sighed. “Okay, I promised myself I wouldn’t ask why you were in Duck Springs, Colorado...”
Unexpectedly, Wes laughed. “Swan Hollow.”
“What’s the difference?” Harry asked. Then before Wes could speak, he said, “Just tell me. Is everything all right?”
Wes’s smile faded slowly. Things were as far from all right as they could get, he thought, but he didn’t bother to say anything. Harry and the rest of the company had probably figured out that Maverick’s email about Wes’s daughter had been nothing but the truth. But that didn’t mean he was ready to discuss it with everyone. Not even his friend Harry.
“Yeah,” he said, gulping coffee. “Everything’s fine. I just have a few...personal issues to work out.”
Understatement of the century. There was so much rushing through his mind, he hadn’t gotten more than a couple of hours of sleep all night. And this morning, Wes felt like his eyeballs had been rolled around in sand. In those long sleepless hours, his brain had raced with images, ideas. A daughter. The dead merger. A saboteur—perhaps even his ex—trying to take down his business. And then there was Belle. A woman he should know better than to want—yet apparently his body hadn’t gotten that memo.
“If you say so.” Harry didn’t sound convinced, but then he added, “When you’re ready to talk about it, I’m here. And if I can do something, let me know.”
“Find Maverick,” Wes said. “That’s what I need you to do. Keep everyone on it. I want to know who and where this guy is.”
“We’re working it, boss. Do what you have to do and don’t worry about what’s going on back in Houston. We’ll find him. I’ll be in touch.”
After Harry hung up, Wes tossed his phone onto the couch and grabbed the remote when he saw the stock report flash onto the television screen. Draining his coffee cup, he punched up the volume and then cursed as the anchor started speaking.
“Things are not looking good for TTG Inc.,” the man said in a low, deep voice. “Texas Toy Goods’ stock has taken a hard dip over the last couple of days. CEO Wes Jackson has not yet commented on the short-lived scandal that apparently was behind Teddy Bradford of PlayCo announcing the end of their much-anticipated merger.”
The stocks reporter then turned to the digital screen behind him and tracked the TTG stock on a downward slide. Meanwhile Wes’s temper inched up in an opposite trajectory.
“TTG Inc.,” the man said, “is down five points, and my sources say there are no immediate plans to put the merger back in play. PlayCo, the anticipated merger partner, on the other hand, has ticked up two points in the last twenty-four hours.”
Disgusted, Wes hit the mute button and wished fervently that his thoughts were as easy to silence. One thing he knew for sure. Once a stock started slipping, the whole thing took on a life of its own. People would worry and sell off their stock and his price would dip even lower.
He had to put a stop to this before he lost everything he’d worked for. Stalking to the carafe of coffee, he refilled his cup and carried it with him to the door when a knock sounded.
Who the hell could that be? Room service had already come and gone. He doubted very much that Belle would be dropping in for a visit. And he was in no mood to talk to anybody else. Riding on temper, he yanked the door open and demanded, “What?”
A tall man in a heavy brown coat with a sheepskin collar stood on the threshold. He had narrowed blue eyes, short, light brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard. Two men with a slight resemblance to the first man stood right behind him, and not one of them looked happy to be there. Wes braced himself for whatever was coming.
“You Wes Jackson?” The first man spoke while the other two continued to glare at Wes.
“Yeah, I am.” He met that flat cool stare with one of his own. “Who’re you?”
“Chance Graystone.”
Damn it. Well, Belle had warned him about her older brothers. Looked like he was going to meet the family whether he wanted to or not.
Chance jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “My brothers, Eli and Tyler. We’re here to talk to you.”
“That’s great.” They didn’t give Wes an opportunity to shut the door on them. Instead, all three of them pushed past him into the room. Each of them somehow managing to give Wes an accidental shove as they did.
“Well, sure,” he said. “Come on in.”
All three men stood in the living room of the suite, waiting for him. Their stances were identical. Feet braced wide apart, arms across their chests, features cold, mouths tight. They could have stepped right out of an old Western movie—three sheriffs ready to face the outlaw. Who would, he told himself, be him.
There was no avoiding this. Slowly, Wes closed the door then glanced down into the cup he held. “This is not gonna be enough coffee.”
Still, he took a sip to steel himself then deliberately took his time as he strolled out to meet Belle’s brothers. He had no idea what was coming. Did they want to talk? Fight? Ride him out of town on a rail? Who the hell knew? Setting his coffee cup down on the closest table, he faced the three men. Wes guessed Chance was the oldest, since he took the lead in the conversation.
“We’re here to set you straight on a few things.”
“Is that right?” Wes wasn’t intimidated, though he had the feeling the Graystone brothers were used to putting the fear of God into whoever happened to be standing against them at the time. Well, they were going to have a hard time with him. He didn’t scare easily, and he never backed down when he knew he was right.
“That’s about it,” Chance said in a flat, dark voice. “Isabelle’s our sister. Caro’s our niece. You do anything to hurt either one of them and we’re going to have a problem.”