Part 19 (1/2)

”Come on,” I say. ”I'll tell you on the way.”

I share my theory with Jackson and Evelyn as we hurry up the stairs to twenty-seven on our way to Trent's office, and as soon as we reach the landing, Jackson bursts ahead of us.

”s.h.i.+t,” I say, hurrying to keep up.

Karen, the receptionist, stands as we pa.s.s by, her eyes wide. ”What”

”Call Damien,” I snap. ”Tell him to get down here. And Aiden, too.”

I glance at Evelyn as we both pick up our pace. I want to hear what Trent has to say for himself. More than that, though, I'm a little afraid that Jackson is going to pummel him into dust before I get there.

The truth is, my theory is only a theory, sparked by the idea that the resorts really are duelingfighting it out, and playing dirty. I'm betting that whoever is developing Lost Tides has a chip on their shoulder against Stark Internationaland that they recruited insiders to do their dirty work. Trent, who was p.i.s.sed off he lost out on managing Cortez. And Nathan Dean, who wanted a shot at designing the resort and wasn't even in the running.

Part of me hopes that I'm wrong, even though that would mean that we're left with a mystery.

But most of me knows that I'm not.

”You son of a b.i.t.c.h.” Jackson's snarl fills the hall, followed by a loud crash. I burst into the room to see that Jackson has Trent up against a bookshelf that obviously got rattled during the impact, sending books and knickknacks tumbling. Jackson's arm is tight against Trent's throat, and Trent looks as if he's about to p.i.s.s himself from fear.

”Jackson!” His name is ripped from me. Not because I'm afraid he's going to hurt Trent, but because I'm so d.a.m.ned on edge about the murder investigation, and any flash of temper could bite him in the a.s.s.

Aiden Ward, the vice president in charge of the real estate division and both my and Trent's immediate supervisor, hurries into the room. ”Let him go.” The words are clipped, Aiden's British accent more p.r.o.nounced in anger.

Jackson ignores him. ”Is it true?” he asks, getting right in Trent's face. ”Are you f.u.c.king with my resort?”

Aiden looks at me. ”What the h.e.l.l?”

But I don't have to answer. Trent's doing that for us. ”It got out of control. I never meant for itand the vandalism on the islandI swear that wasn't me.”

”b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l,” Aiden says. Apparently all the pieces have fallen in place for him, too.

”Let him go,” I say to Jackson, only my voice is softer than Aiden's was. A little sad, even.

Jackson hesitates, but he complies. Even so, he's taut as a wire and practically vibrating with energy. He wants to beat the s.h.i.+t out of Trentthat much is obvious. Honestly, I understand the feeling.

”You're a f.u.c.king lunatic,” Trent snaps, rubbing his throat. ”I bet you did kill that a.s.shole. Christ, you practically killed me.”

”Don't make me regret that I didn't.” Jackson's voice is low and very dangerous.

Behind us, pretty much the entire department has gathered in the doorway. Beside me, Evelyn s.h.i.+fts, and I know that she's thinking what has already crossed my mindif anyone who's witnessed this scene tells the police, it's not going to look good for Jackson.

I tell myself they won't. They're loyal to Stark. To the project.

And I tell myself there's not a d.a.m.n thing I can do about it right now, anyway. Right now, I just need to focus on this.

I draw a breath. ”Are you the developer? Is Lost Tides yours?”

He shakes his head. ”Nono, they came to me. They knew I got pa.s.sed over, andwell, they came to me.”

”Who?” Aiden asks.

”The development team. But Roger Calloway's the main guy.”

”I know that name,” Jackson says, looking at me. But I just shake my head. There's something familiar about that name for me, too, but I can't place it at all. I look at Trent. ”Who's Roger Calloway?”

But it's not Trent who answers. It's Damien, who has arrived and is striding into the room. ”Calloway was one of the players in the Brighton Consortium,” he says, and another piece clicks into place.

The Brighton Consortium was an Atlanta land development deal that I was actually working on through my old boss back when Jackson and I first met. It was also the deal that went completely south after Damien s.n.a.t.c.hed up a huge amount of acreage, ensuring that the project couldn't be completed. Jackson had been p.i.s.sed as h.e.l.l at his half-brother, and had only recently learned that the consortium's investors were about to be buried in all sorts of fraud and racketeering allegations. Damien's Hail Mary ploy had saved Jackson's a.s.snot to mention all the others who were about to get burned.

But now I can't help wonder if maybe Calloway didn't know that, either. And maybe he's been thinking of Lost Tides as a way to get back at Damien. And the sabotage as a way to ensure that Cortez floundered.

Honestly, though, I don't give a f.u.c.k about Calloway's motive. All I want is for the sabotage against Cortez to stop.

”Talk,” Damien says.

”IHe got Nathan on board, first. And that's aboveboard, honest. Nathan learned what I was doing, but never did anything himself. Nothing but work on the plans.”

”But you did,” Damien says.

Trent nods. ”Calloway wanted details on design, vendors, marketing plans.”

”He wanted you to spy for them,” I say.

He nods.

”They had you hack the security feed. Leak emails. All of that?” Aiden's voice is harsh. Demanding.

”Most of it. But I told them a few weeks ago that I'd had enough. And the vandalism on the islandI didn't have anything to do with that. I swear. They must have hired someone to go in and”

”That's enough,” Damien says. He turns to face me and Aiden and Jackson, as well as everyone who stands behind us, still lingering in the doorway. ”Go on. I'm going to speak to Mr. Leiter alone.”

Trent looks a little sick, but he doesn't protest.

I look at Jackson, and he nods. He looks exhausted, but I can't help but think that he also looks relieved.

When we're out in the hallway, with the door to Trent's office shut behind me, he confirms that a.s.sessment. ”It's f.u.c.ked up,” he says. ”But at least we have an answer now.” He drags his fingers through his hair. ”It's more closure than I have in my life, that's for d.a.m.n sure.” He looks at me. ”I'll see you later. I'm going to go back to work.”

He brushes a kiss over my cheek, but before he can walk away, Evelyn stops him. ”I hate to be the bearer of more bad news, but I didn't get to finish telling you everything before our dramatic interruption.”

I catch Jackson's eye, and I can see that he looks just as uneasy as I feel.

”Bad news?” he asks.

”Well, it's not good. I don't have confirmation, but rumor is that another production company is courting Graham Elliott, and he's still keen on making the movie. I'm sorry.”

”Wait. What?” Jackson asks, as if he can't quite make sense of her words.