“I said no. We are not going to the Feds. That would destroy the company I’m trying to save.”
“There’s no reason it has to go public.”
“We’ve had this conversation. Leaks happen all the time. Are you going to tell me they don’t?”
“Dead people happen all the time with Martina too. That’s my concern. You are the only thing standing between Martina and Brandon Enterprises.”
“Adrian is second to his father. He doesn’t have the final say.”
“Roberto Martina is well known to be a brutal killer.”
“Exactly,” I say, having read up on the man the moment I’d heard of their involvement with Derek. “That’s my point. Roberto bragged about killing Adrian’s brother for costing him money.”
“Because he betrayed him.”
“Failure to a man like Roberto is betrayal. We need to convince Adrian we’re the kind of fire he can’t put out. I planted the seed. I told him there is a reason cartels stay away from legit operations. We are watched like hawks. That’s where you get Nick and his men, to make that seem like reality.”
He studies me for several drawn-out moments. “It’s a long shot.”
“That we’re going to make work.”
“I’ll talk to Nick. We’ll come up with a way to spook him.”
“Do nothing until I approve it. Moving on.” I tap the paperwork in front of me. “Have you studied these documents?”
“I made copies. I haven’t had time to analyze them.”
“I’ve been comparing the transactions for Mike Rogers in this folder to the company database. One in four don’t match up. He’s too smart, and too involved with my father, to be a victim.”
“We’ve always thought your father was helping him hide money.”
“We also thought he had too much to lose to ultimately stand with Derek, but the man owns a professional basketball team and Martina is marketing to professional athletes. I can’t ignore where that’s leading me.”
“While I agree,” Seth says. “He’s also filthy rich and well insulated. We have nothing to prove he’s dirty.”
“We don’t have time for ‘well insulated’ to be the only answer you give me. He’s a twenty percent stock holder, the vote that hands the company to Derek.” My lips thin. “My father called a board meeting for Wednesday, after requesting a family dinner meeting on Sunday.”
“Where do you think that’s headed?”
“He may not have a choice,” I say, the words acid on my tongue. “Not if he wants to be around for it. The bylaws require the board have sixty days’ notice. He told me last night he’s not going to be around long.”
“He has to be afraid you’ll cause trouble at the meeting.”
“I assume that is why Sunday night is happening.” I tap the folder again. “The hedge fund. And our transportation division, which I assume is a placeholder for someone else he’s hiding. I don’t believe for a minute that this is legit. It’s my father’s last hurrah, and he has nothing to lose.”
“And Mike’s involved. We find out what it’s about and we have our leverage on him we can use for the vote.”
“And clean up this damn company once and for all.” My cell phone beeps with a text and I glance down to read a message from Jessica: Stop blowing me off. I glance at Seth. “Jessica is trying to reach Brody’s people. Any news on him?”
“Still missing. Nick’s folks are nosing around. I’ll come back here, once I have a full update.” I nod and he stares at me. “Say what it is you want to say,” I press, “but if it involves the Feds—”
“The best way to find out what’s happening with that hedge fund is to squeeze those involved. Are you prepared to do that?”
A month ago, I would have asked him to define squeeze, but a month ago Adrian Martina wasn’t inviting me for a morning chat, with Emily living in my home. “Get me what I need on Mike.”
He gives me a sharp incline of his chin and turns for the door. I hit auto-dial on my phone and call Jessica. “It’s about time,” she greets me. “I’m in the lobby about to come up.”
In other words, there are things she doesn’t feel she can say on the phone. It’s an epidemic today. “You know the code and the door is open,” I say, ending the call, standing and walking to the refrigerator and grabbing a protein shake, which I pop open and guzzle.
The door opens and Jessica’s heels click on the floor before she appears in the kitchen, sans coat, and eyes the paperwork I have spread all over the island. “You really should tell your secretary when you plan a work-from-home day,” she says, setting her purse and a file on the counter.
“I didn’t plan to work from home.”
“Considering you gave Emily the Bentley, I figured as much, but I didn’t know. I thought maybe it was a ploy for breathing room.”
“From my family, not Emily. What was urgent enough to bring you here?”
She slides the folder toward me. “Your father’s having a meeting with six bankers at four o’clock in the conference room.”
“Is he requesting my presence?”
“No,” she says. “We only know about it because of Emily.”
I indicate the folder. “And this is?”