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The weight of their words hung in the air, as heavy as cigar smoke curling towards the ceiling. I stared at my pocket aces, symbols of strength I wasn’t sure I possessed anymore. “Can we just play? I’m done talking about the past. I didn’t come here for a therapy session,” I insisted.
Jack held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright. But don’t come crying to us when it blows up in your face.”
There was no response except for us to continue the game in relative silence.
Several hands in, Archer cleared his throat. “So, gentlemen, shall we discuss therealreason we’re here tonight?”
The atmosphere in the room shifted and an undercurrent of purpose ran through us. This was the other side of our gatherings, the part that went beyond friendship and into something darker, more dangerous.
A purpose created the day we ruthlessly went after the company Archer’s older sister Isabelle had worked for. She’d been victimized by the CEO, and the day she died Archer had found her diary explicitly detailing everything that had been happening for months. She’d endured the abuse because their family needed the money.
Without the funds and social standing, his family, who’d been barely scraping by, couldn’t hire a lawyer to fight such a well-respected person and business, so it was all swept under the rug.
Untilwehad the money and expertise to make Isabelle’s boss pay.
After that experience, we decided to continue our behind-the-scenes destruction, choosing people and companies that found ways to screw over the little people. Individuals and their associates that would never have been forced to pay for their sins if we didn’t exist.
Luke grinned. “I call this meeting to order. I want to note all the Merry Men are in attendance.” The asshole had dubbed our group that after we’d decided to call our shell corporation, Sherwood Inc, aptly named since we took from rich corrupted assholes and gave back to the people they fucked over.
Ignoring our eye rolls, Luke continued. “Trey, please share which target has been selected this month.”
“A 2-4 vote, for Zennial Corp., submitted by Archer.” We were not allowed to vote for our own submission to keep everything fair. “Archer, take it away.”
“Zennial Corp.,” he said, his voice hard. “They’ve been cutting corners on drug trials, falsifying data to pharmaceutical companies to make it through to the next rounds of testing putting lives at risk. They have various foreign research labs that on paper don’t seem to link back to them, so their negligence is far-reaching.”
“What else?” Trey asked.
“They’re massaging the numbers. Giving more participants the placebo so they can sell the rest of the product on the black market. Most of the drugs they’re selling are narcotics or psychotropic. And from what we can tell, they’re working with various drug cartels.”
“How bad?” I asked, leaning forward. I had a bad feeling about this and made a mental note to tell Judd.
“Bad,” Archer replied. “We can’t confirm numbers, but between their falsified data and using the drugs not for their intended purpose, people are dying and they’re covering it all up.”
“Jesus,” Luke muttered.
Archer continued. “They’re targeting low-income communities for their trials, preying on people who can’t afford more than basic healthcare.”
A heavy silence filled the room. We were all very familiar with the lack of health care the population they were using faced.
“So,” Trey said, his voice uncharacteristically grim. “How do we take them down?”
For the next hour, we strategized. Archer had already gathered a significant amount of evidence, but we needed more. We divided up the tasks, making a plan to gather intel using our contacts for inside information, assigned members to surveilthe company and key personnel, and obtain access to high-level events, as well as using our combined tech skills to hack into their systems.
As the night wore on and our planning wrapped up, the conversation drifted back to lighter topics. But even as I laughed at Jack’s latest locker room antics and debated the merits of method acting with Luke, my mind kept wandering to Trissa. Not because I cared, just because her request was a complication I didn’t need.
Whatever I’d felt for Tris needed to be squashed. If I decided to help her—and that was a bigif—it would be on my own terms.
Chapter Seven
TRISSA
My stomach churned as I rode the elevator to the executive floor of VS Music Productions. I scrolled through social media, looking for any mentions of Peter. Even though I didn’t immediately see anything of concern, my nerves didn’t subside. This meeting might have been labeled a check-in, but my instinct demanded that I needed to be prepared for anything.
I’d called Peter this morning to remind him about our meeting. The call had gone straight to his voicemail. To say I was feeling déjà vu was an understatement.
The elevator dinged and its doors slid open to reveal the sleek, modern lobby outside Jareth’s inner sanctum. I smoothed down my charcoal pencil skirt, took a deep breath, and stepped out just as a text from Leo came through, letting me know he’d dropped Peter off minutes before I arrived.
Leo needed a raise.