Page 24 of Nothing to Beat (Nothing to… #13)

TURNED OUT BASTIAN’S presence helped when leaving the hotel suite in the morning.

His company gave her a reason to request Tripp and Roxie stay behind.

They couldn’t barrel into Ackley’s office like a posse.

A show of force wouldn’t win her any grace.

And, to be honest, the fewer people who knew what she intended to say, the better.

Her hands were clammy; her fingers wouldn’t stay still.

It wasn’t nerves, she’d been in plenty of high stakes meetings.

She could keep her cool, be articulate, persuasive—this wasn’t just high stakes.

This was forever. This meeting could dictate the rest of her life.

Not just hers. Breck’s, his whole family’s.

It could be the difference between them having a child, and her giving up on the idea for good.

In Chicago, she may not have known the reason for their destination until it was upon her, but Roxie had personal capital with Porter.

Like love and affection type capital. If he’d shot her down or tried to kick her out, Roxie could’ve stepped in.

With Ackley? She didn’t have the same safety net. She couldn’t fuck this up.

“I’ve never seen you anxious,” Bastian said from her side as they strode down the marble floored hallway.

Yeah, uh huh, because that was a helpful observation.

“I’m not anxious.” Clenching her fists, she pulled back control. “There’s a lot riding on this.”

“Have you spoken to Breck?”

“Not yet.” There was nothing to tell. Nothing more than she’d known that morning or yesterday. Though she’d feel better right then if he was holding her hand. Which she couldn’t complain about because it was on her that he wasn’t present. “I told you he doesn’t need to know about this.”

“He said your phone is off.”

Stopping suddenly, she caught him almost off-guard by body-blocking him to a halt too. “You’ve spoken to him? When? If you told him you saw me—”

“Yesterday, before I knew you were in town,” Bastian said, the picture of calm. “He told me yesterday your phone was off. Which is something he said you only do when you don’t want him to know your location.”

“Did you tell him? That I’m here?”

“No, but if he knows you’re with Roxie, the world knows where she is.”

Yeah, she’d been trying not to focus on that. Damn her conversation with him in Tripp’s bed.

“I’m with Tripp, I’m safe, he knows his brother won’t abandon me. Breck will give me time to figure this out.”

He’d said as much, though hadn’t put a number on just how much he’d give.

Bastian frowned. “Wouldn’t it be easier just to turn off the tracker?”

“That makes no difference when he knows the man who designed the phone.” She started walking again. “My guy can be overbearing.”

He ducked a little, still in stride with her. “Protective. It’s a sign of love.”

“So I’m told. Do you say the same thing to Keely?”

He laughed. “All the time.”

“Poor girl.”

His sister was anything but poor, in every sense of the word. Yet she was also one of the kindest, most dynamic women she’d ever met.

In the middle of the corridor, she stopped again, this time to face the doors that would take her to Ackley. Time for business…

“Do I have to remind you that you don’t have to be in this?” she said to the man at her side. Focused straight ahead, her scrutiny zeroed in on the handles that would grant her access. “Get me in and then you can walk away.”

“Haven’t forgotten and I’m not going anywhere.”

Nope, of course not, these billionaires could be audacious to the point of rude.

“Promise me this won’t change anything.”

“I thought changing things was the idea,” he said, concern creeping in. “If you’ve changed your mind—”

“No, I know what I have to do.” She glanced at him. “I don’t want it to change things between us.” Ackley could tell her to go to hell and Breck would never know what had been said. Except if Bastian was right next to her, hearing every word, she couldn’t deny the truth. “I value our friendship.”

“As do I,” he said and took her hand to kiss the back of it, locking their fingers together. “And you’ll always have it.”

“Okay.” One nod. “Let’s do this.”

Passing through the doors, into a busy bullpen of cubicles, the offices left and right contained people too, everyone lost in the importance of their business. Should it be so busy on a Sunday? Didn’t these people take any time off? Maybe it was a case of, if the boss was in, everyone was in.

At the other side of the space were double doors. Solid, private, concealing what went on inside. Bastian guided her around the room to those doors. Without waiting he went inside and closed them in.

Quiet. The rumble of business they’d just left still hummed behind the wood, but it wasn’t intrusive. Privacy, maybe, hopefully, went both ways.

Bastian released her hand to continue the couple of steps to a desk occupied by a woman wearing a headset, fingers poised over the keyboard like they’d interrupted her mid-strike.

“Dierdra.” The warmth of Bastian’s voice betrayed his smile. “How are you doing?”

“Well, Mr. Hunt. He’s eager for this meeting.”

Huh, maybe she should’ve asked exactly what Bastian said to get them in.

“That’s nice to hear,” Bastian said. “It’s always nice to be welcome.”

As she rose from her seat, Dierdra laughed, a light flirtatious sound Bastian probably heard everywhere. Sure, the woman was probably twenty years older than him, but did that ever matter?

“You’re always welcome,” the assistant said and retreated to another set of double doors. Dierdra knocked once, then, without waiting for a response from inside, opened one of the doors.

Bastian’s arm rose as he twisted her way, calling for her to go first, or at least with him into the room beyond.

Shit. It was nerves. No way of denying that now.

With an exhale, she went to Bastian, walking with him, his hand on the small of her back. The touch was comforting, but it didn’t slow her speeding heart. Adrenaline got her over the threshold.

Breck. He’s who mattered. He was what she had to hold onto. Nothing that could happen in that room, or any other, would change how he felt about her… right?

“Bastian!” Ackley, a tall man with a tan and graying hair with flecks of white at the temples, came around to shake his hand. “I hear there’s a matter we have to discuss.”

“Yes.” Bastian’s hand strengthened in time with Ackley’s focus landing on her. “My friend has important business. I’ll let her introduce herself.”

Right, because they hadn’t spoken about how much of her identity she wanted revealed up front.

Did she want her heritage flagged at the head of this meeting?

Yes, because everything hinged on her credibility.

Were Gambattos credible? In a room like this, for the most part?

No, they wouldn’t be. But Ackley had to believe her words carried weight, that she was more than just a passerby.

Funny for how many years she’d done everything in her power to conceal her identity, and there she was, ready to declare it to a man with the power to dismantle her whole life.

“Mr. Ackley,” she said, edging just a little closer as her shoulders pushed back to hold her confidence. “I’m Sequoia Gambatto.”

The flare of his nostrils was the first hint of surprise. He didn’t immediately say anything. No, he’d need time to process. Men like him, confident public figures always had something to say and always assumed to be right.

Porter Clement, a Chicagoan, elbow deep in a case involving her family, might immediately recognize her, and even he hadn’t. Ackley had no reason to know who she was at all, he may not know she existed.

“A sister,” he murmured, surprise becoming intrigue.

Ackley backed off to gesture at the chairs facing his desk as he went around to his grand red, leather chair.

This was LA, the city of sleek and modern, Ackley may buy into that at home, he didn’t in his office.

Broad desk, bookcases behind, flags, this was the full deal.

Thank God she wasn’t easily intimidated.

“Thank you for seeing us on a Sunday,” she said, holding onto her assuredness while projecting respect. Soften up the ground, be sure, not pushy. Not yet. “It’s short notice, you couldn’t have expected us.”

“Bastian said he had a friend who needed my attention, deserved my attention. I could never have predicted this.” He glanced between them. “You’re a long way from Chicago, Ms. Gambatto. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Smart, also not presumptuous, could be an act.

“I did travel from Chicago, but I don’t live there. I live in New York; my relationship with my father was severed years ago.”

“Intriguing, rather than whet my appetite, she tempers my expectation.” This meeting was for her, yet he spoke to Bastian. Was it about gender? Money? Familiarity? “Are you here to ask for something, or give me something?”

Had to be one of those two, huh? Probably what he was used to, and in his defense, he was right.

“Does it have to be one or the other? Why can’t we do both?”

“Now she’s whetting my appetite. What would you like to give me?”

Okay, not overtly sleazy, but there was an undertone. Could be her imagination. Though bringing Bastian was working in her favor. Was she scared of Ackley? No. But she appreciated the witness all the same.

“My father.”

And his scrutiny narrowed. “Has he committed a crime?”

“Several.”

“In my city?”

“That’s for you to decide.”

“Okay,” he said, reaching for the laptop on the corner of the desk.

“No,” she was quick to object. “This is all off the record.”

His hand splayed on the desk. “Off the record? That’s of no use to me.”

“Maybe you should hear what I have to say first. My brother, I know, is in your sights. Trish makes that case for you.”

“She’s willing to testify.”

“Why don’t you hear what Sequoia has to say first?” Bastian was nothing if not a great mediator. “There could be irrefutable evidence. Maybe you don’t need her testimony.”

Now, with a hint of adversity in the air, this wasn’t seeming like such a great idea.

He could tell her to get out, that he planned to do nothing.

Wouldn’t be the first time a DA, or other official, had been paid off.

Ackley could be in her father’s pocket, which put her in a precarious position.

Risk was part of the plan; it had to be.

The potential reward at the end, if everything went their way, was worth tiptoeing into the lion’s den. Confident? Yes. But careful.

“There’s evidence. Only depends how hungry you are, Mr. Ackley. My testimony won’t hold much sway. As I said, I haven’t been close to my father for a long time. That doesn’t mean I’m unaware of his methods, his avenues of escape.”

“Communicating with your sister has been difficult. She prefers to work through a third party.” Probably Zairn. “She hasn’t offered us anything on your father’s relationship with my city.”

“Maybe after today, she’ll be more receptive.”

“Is she aware of what you’re doing here?”

“No one except the three of us are aware of this meeting or what I have to share,” she said.

“My father disperses his money throughout the country. He’s particularly proud of how he uses LA to legitimize his funds.

And he’s not the only one. Three men work together: him and two others. Catch one, you’ll catch them all.”

“A conspiracy?” he said and she acknowledged the question with a nod. “And you have details?”

“I’m not completely out of the loop, Mr. Ackley. I can have value without standing up in court.”

“I could subpoena you.”

“Yes, and I’d plead the fifth for every question, which won’t strengthen your case.”

“Why would you do that? Because you’re involved?”

“Because the last thing I want is to be involved. I give you my father… for a cost.”

“Ah,” Ackley said, pushing back in his chair. “The quid pro quo. You have a friend in one of my facilities? Need something expunged from a record?”

Did he really expect her to ask for a favor like that? What kind of people did he deal with every day? Probably best not to ask; this was as close to the criminal element as she ever wanted to get again.

“I’ll give you the information, and no matter what happens in Chicago, you promise to pursue this.”

“Until I have the information, I can’t make any promise.” Confusion edged in. “That’s what you want in return? Your father prosecuted?”

“I want him in a place that he can’t hurt anyone anymore. I don’t believe in miracles or lucky breaks, I believe in forward-planning, anticipating the unexpected. I like to have a backup plan where possible. You are my backup plan, Mr. Ackley.

“My father is dangerous and he’s resourceful. Don’t underestimate him. He’s been running illegal money through your city for years, laughing at people like you because you’re oblivious. Do you want him and his friends laughing at you?”

That hit the mark. Appealing to the man’s pride got his cooperation, how predictable.

Ackley bristled. “Tell me what you know.”

Good, his interest was encouraging. DA Ackley was a man who held a grudge, if Roxie and Zairn’s experience was any indicator. It wouldn’t be so bad if he developed one toward her father.

“Have you heard of a production company called Enter Out?” she asked.

“No.”

“Then let me enlighten you.”