“So the going rate for four employees twenty-four seven isn’t cheap,” Taggart began.
“Ian.” Deke sat beside her.
“I was hoping we could negotiate a project rate.” She wasn’t some shrinking violet. She’d worked in big tech for years, and she’d had to stare down bigger assholes than the one in front of her. Getting a good deal was an artform.
“Has anyone mentioned who she’s investigating?” Deke’s question held an air of expectation.
MaeBe’s eyes had gone wide. “I thought for sure you would have told him. I was wondering why he was so calm.”
Charlotte Taggart sat up straight, her hand going to the landline phone that sat on the conference table. It likely linked to an inhouse communication system. They used something similar at Byrne Corp to conference in people in different buildings on campus. Charlotte’s hand hovered close to the system. “Who does she work for, Deke? I wish I could guess, but the truth is my husband has a whole lot of triggers.”
The boss’s blue eyes rolled. “I do not have triggers. I have a couple of people I don’t like.”
“Yeah, it’s called the phone book,” Kyle said under his breath.
“Uh, I think you really hate this one, boss,” Boomer added. “But I also forgot who it was. I was hungry when she first showed up. Did you try the srirancha?”
“I don’t know what that is.” They were all weird. “I work for Nolan Byrne.”
Ian went still. Like preternaturally still. Like he was being so still because he was about to murder someone still.
“Shit,” Charlotte said and picked up the phone. “Yasmin, we have a meltdown. Yeah, bring the good stuff. Everything you have.”
The conference room walls were made of glass, and no one had closed the shades, so Maddie was able to see the receptionist fly past, sprinting on her way to wherever she was going.
Maddie leaned toward Deke but did not take her eyes off Ian. He hadn’t moved, but his face was going red, like he was a tea kettle rapidly heating up. “Is he okay?”
“Nah. He’s working his way through something. Don’t worry. When he explodes, it’s usually pretty funny.” Deke sounded amused, but then she was starting to remember that the world had always amused this man. He’d gotten through some tough times by never taking anything too seriously. “What is your tolerance level when it comes to curse words? He’s big on the frankenswears.”
“Oh, I’ve heard them all. What did Nolan do to him?” Nolan Byrne was known for his perky nature when it came to reporters and for being utterly ruthless in all other regards.
Charlotte winced. “We try not to say that name.”
“He stiffed Big Tag on a bill,” Kyle said with a shrug. “My uncle holds grudges over tiny things.”
MaeBe gasped. “You are so bad.”
“It was a hundred and twenty-five thousand fucking dollars and fifty-nine cents.” Ian finally exploded. “This company built the security system for one of that cockwaffle’s companies. Built it. Installed it. Trained his security team on how to use it, and do you know what he did when the bill came due?”
Oh, she could bet. “He had his lawyers tear apart the contract and bilked you out of everything he still owed you?”
“He called me incompetent,” Ian said, his voice low. “Fucker. I should have shoved my fist up his asshole and then smashed his face with my fist so he could taste his own shit.”
Boomer’s eyes lit with recognition. “Oh, that guy. Yeah, we hate that guy. I almost sniped him but Charlotte said no.”
“And that is why we fail,” Ian announced.
The doors came open and Yasmin rushed in with a box. She set it on the table and opened it, passing the contents to Charlotte.
“You took him to court,” Kyle said with a seemingly sympathetic shake of his head. “You did all you could do.”
Charlotte’s eyes narrowed as she opened…was that Scotch? “I will not protect you from him.”
Kyle shrugged. “It was a very mature decision. I mean, the old man’s been out of the game for a long time.”
“Old man?” Ian started to turn on the dude who did not seem to be able to read the room. “I will show you how much of an old man I am. I don’t think your momma spanked you enough.”
“Ian, drink.” Charlotte managed to get the glass in her husband’s hand before he could stand up. “See. Good Scotch. Old Scotch. Expensive Scotch.”
“Is he okay?” She looked to Deke, who was grinning ear to ear.
“He will be. Charlotte knows how to bring him down,” Deke said.
That was the moment she realized she’d reached for his hand. At some point she’d put a hand on his. She’d done it unconsciously, as if her body remembered that he was safe, that he would protect her.
She eased her hand off his.