Page 14 of Nothing to Beat (Nothing to… #13)
THERE WAS NO TIME to answer because the nearest door opened, and a guy popped his head out. He blinked once, then came out to fold his arms.
“RoRo. This is a surprise. Z didn’t tell me you were coming.”
“What is with Casanova buddying up to the men in my life?”
“Am I in your life?”
Fully entitled, Roxie marched on over and shoved his door further open. “We have to talk.”
“We?” he asked, then landed his focus on her and Tripp. “Or all of we?” With a quick arm jab, Roxie wrung a snicker from Porter who went inside, gesturing for them to follow. “Come on in.”
“Great place you’ve got here,” Roxie said, opening her arms to turn on the spot.
Filled with Porter’s things, not Roxie’s, obviously, the furniture was laid out differently, but, yeah, from what she saw, one apartment had the same footprint as the other.
“Didn’t think you’d have a problem with it. Z thought you’d prefer me somewhere safe and the Grand isn’t exactly home.”
That was a matter of opinion.
“I don’t have a problem,” Roxie admitted. “But I draw the line at the magician. He shows up looking for a place to live, you and Z just turn him right around.”
“The magician?” Tripp asked, clearly amused.
Porter explained. “An ex.”
“Not one I care about being safe.” Roxie’s compliment softened Porter’s smile. In typical fashion, Roxie pulled the sentimentality back fast. “Though I wouldn’t have to think about your safety if you didn’t make dumb, suicidal career decisions.”
“Still on that?”
“Why is it you needed a new place to live?” Roxie asked, tapping a straight forefinger on her jaw. “Oh, that’s right, because your last place got torched.”
“Now I have round the clock security.”
“ I have round the clock security.” Roxie’s manicured middle finger touched her breast. “You’re taking advantage of it.”
“You’re not here to use it!” Porter laughed. “And don’t you have a security team in New York too?”
Somehow, she figured, he knew the answer to that question.
“I’m moving on.” Roxie hitched her chin. “What you got to drink in this joint?”
Like the words were a command for Tripp, he swung the door closed and drifted into the kitchen to begin the hunt.
“Didn’t think I’d see you before the wedding,” Porter said, smirking. “Second thoughts? Come here for one last hurrah?”
Roxie’s shoulders dropped. “Yes, Porter, I’m here to beg you to take me back. Want to run away together?”
“Might be hard with the guy you’re jilting owning his own jets.”
“And the building you’re standing in,” Tripp muttered, landing on vodka in the freezer. “Oh, this is good stuff.”
“Help yourself.” Wasn’t exactly clear if Porter was sincere or not. “You’re not one of her usual girls.”
“Yeah, given the penis and all.” Roxie went toward the desk in the corner. The huge desk, covered with papers, bearing an open laptop. “Tripp’s an honorary girl.”
“Tripp…” Porter whipped around fast. “Wait, you’re not—you are.”
“A Breckenridge?” Roxie asked, twirling into the tall desk chair. “Yeah, so he can afford to replace the liquor… ‘can’ but probably won’t. Bill Z for it.”
“Tripp Breckenridge.” Porter shook a pointed finger at him. “You’re number seven.”
“In the line of succession?” Tripp was still investigating the kitchen. “I’m somewhere around there. Impressive. You a groupie?”
“I know your mother well.”
“Does my dad know that?”
Porter blanched. “I don’t know—I—I know of her. I follow her work. She’s an incredible woman. And your brother, your eldest brother just walked away from the corporation. That was a shock move.”
With a quick glance over his shoulder, Porter seemed to expect confirmation from Roxie. Except the woman was poring over the papers on the desk, lifting one to peek at another. Porter marched on over there to close the laptop and gather everything up.
“What?” Roxie asked, aiming for innocence. “It’s not like I don’t know what you’re working on.”
“Why did you bring me Tripp Breckenridge?”
“He’s not for you. He’s just here. He has a habit of it. Ignore him.”
“Not easy to ignore a guy like him. Tripp Breckenridge, the most infamous of the Breckenridge Boys.”
“Infamous?” Tripp asked. “Nah. I’m the handsomest Breckenridge, the most thoughtful, caring.
” Hmm, and would the world believe that?
“Definitely the best lover.” Though given the brothers didn’t share women, there was no one qualified to verify that.
“And you, sir, are Porter Clement. Got your heart broken by our own Roxanna Kyst here.” Roxie’s ex?
“And are first chair on the Gambatto prosecution.”
Shit—what? That line was for her. That’s why they were in Chicago. This guy. Porter Clement.
“There’s a squad of us,” stated the modest prosecutor, “we’re a team.”
“I’ll bet.”
This wasn’t a trip to see Trish or a second betrayer.
Though Porter should be just as concerned about keeping his life as any turncoat.
His place was torched… oh, God. Roxie brought her to the man gathering the facts.
The man who had evidence maybe even Trish didn’t have.
Was it possible he knew more than Trish?
The man was aware of strategy, the strength of the case, the chances of conviction.
She hadn’t even considered approaching the prosecution…
“Oh my God,” she whispered, fixating on the man who’d been nothing to her a moment ago. “This is why we…” Her hand rose in his general direction while Roxie nodded. “He’s the one prosecuting my brother, my family.”
“Your—shit.” Shock widened his mouth for a second. “You’re Sequoia Gambatto.” She forgave him a few moments of incredulity; her needle was stuck in the same groove. “You changed your hair.”
That was why he hadn’t recognized her? In his defense, Roxie and Tripp were the distracting types. He probably hadn’t really looked.
“Since I was eighteen? Yes. I did. A few times.”
“Eighteen. The last pictures of you were…” Porter said. “You went to college and never came back to Chicago.”
She’d been back, though wouldn’t admit that to this audience.
“My father and I had a falling out.”
Among other things.
“You’ve been out of it for so long…” His demeanor changed. “Don’t mistake me, I’m grateful, but how can you help us break down current operations?”
“Sequoia’s not for you either.” Roxie tsked. “Geez, what do you think I am? A matchmaker or a madam?”
“We only got Trish because of you.”
“You only got Trish because of Zairn,” Roxie said. “You remember how I reacted when I found out?”
Now she wanted to know how Roxie reacted. That wasn’t exactly the best moment to ask.
“But you brought me her sister anyway.”
“I didn’t bring you her sister, I brought her sister to you. You’re the gift, not the recipient.”
Swiping something aside, Porter picked up a phone. “We can record this here or we can go to the office. It’s late, but for something like this Tim will—”
“Whoa,” Roxie said. “Grab those reins, big boy. It’s not time to saddle up.”
In an involuntary move, she took a step back and came up against Tripp who clasped her shoulders, holding her against him.
She hadn’t known he was there, yet he held her up.
Tripp was one of those guys who didn’t upset people.
Unless he wanted to. He could be the most powerful force in the room or completely invisible.
She hadn’t thought much about his presence, they’d known each other for…
ever. Often he was part of the furniture in her life.
Not right then. In that moment, she’d never been more grateful for him.
Her surrogate brother would never let anyone hurt or harass her, which was ironic given that her biological brother, Joey, would happily sell her for scrap.
“I don’t understand,” Porter said, his hand with the phone sinking to the desk. “Sequoia, you don’t want to testify? Why else would you come here? Why else would you want to talk to me? Are you here to plead for mercy?”
Quite the opposite. Did that make her a bad person? A selfish person? What kind of a person wanted to see their family behind bars? Wait, how many people did her father hurt and torment on a daily basis? Surely one outweighed the other. His guilt had to outweigh hers, whether he felt it or not.
“There is more to life than work, Porter, honey. And this is off the books.”
“Off the books?”
“Completely,” Tripp said. “As far as anyone else is concerned, this conversation never happened.”
“I’m a public servant.” Porter’s edge of suspicion was understandable. “Anything shady—”
“Tripp looks the way he looks, we can’t help the bad boy thing.” Roxie tapped the desk. “The rest of us are squeaky clean… ish. All we need from you is some information. Just a few lousy words. That’s not too much to ask given how much information we’ve funneled your way, wouldn’t you say?”
He laughed. “You’re just through telling me Zairn was my ticket. How does that mean I owe you something?”
“Him. Me. One and the same. You know I can pull this any time.”
The air got serious. “Don’t play that card.”
“What card?”
“You think I don’t remember that night?” Porter asked. “Zairn got your permission. He needed your permission.”
“It’s not permission.”
“You’re threatening to have your boyfriend pull the deal. What happens to Trish then?”
“I’m not threatening anyone with anything.” Roxie stood. “Let’s have a drink. Take this kettle off the heat.” Rounding the desk, Roxie paused to bounce up and kiss Porter’s cheek. “I’ve missed you.”
The former couple embraced. “Life’s never the same without you around, RoRo.”