Page 8 of The Bargain (Dalton Family #2)

Chapter Eight

Ethan

M y office for the day is the kitchen island of my New York City apartment.

A couple hours into my day, I’m dressed in a gray suit and matching gray silk tie, a freshly brewed cup of coffee steaming next to me atop the dark wood countertop.

The entire place is decorated in brown tones, leather, and industrial style fixtures, that feel as “bachelor” as I did when I made the choice.

There’s a change in the air now though and her name is Sofia.

She’s on my mind. She’s always on my mind, this morning included, despite not one, but two meetings, with clients related to the European division of Dalton Enterprises.

I’m about to dial another when my cellphone rings with Harper’s number.

I answer on speaker phone. “Tell me Sofia signed the damn contract.”

“No, but she finally spoke to me and she’s letting me take over negotiations. We’ll get it done.”

The relief is real. I do not want whatever I did to piss Sofia off, to stand between her and the success of Zoey. For her. Hell, for all of us. I believe in her and her brand enough to believe we’re going big places with Moore’s.

“Damn good news,” I say, reaching for my mug and sipping. “I was starting to think I needed to hop on a plane and go get her back on track.”

“That would be a conflict of interest, considering your role on the board, and the present state of negotiations, but I’m sure that would have pleased her. She’s confused, Ethan, but she’s far from done with whatever it is that’s between the two of you.”

She’s more than confused or she wouldn’t have ran again , I think, but that’s between me and Sofia, not me and Harper. “What else?” I ask, moving us through the call.

“Walker Security wants to meet with you. Their man, Adam, can come to you or you can meet them at a bar named Trudy’s at eleven.”

“Have you met Adam?”

“No, but everyone over there is either a former elite operative or service member of some sort. They’re all top notch, highly skilled, and discreet.”

“In that case, just have him come here. I’m too busy to go track down some bar.”

“How soon?”

“Now. What do you know? What is this about?”

“They have information they say you’ll want. That’s all they wanted to tell me. I’m not the direct client.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“Don’t be pessimistic, though your brother is involved, so maybe pessimism is realistic. Whatever the case, call me after. Talk soon.” She disconnects.

Almost instantly my cell rings again and I end up on another business call for the next twenty minutes.

I’ve been off long enough to refill my mug when I receive a notification from security that I have company.

I approve entry and five minutes later, I’m opening the door to be greeted by a man at least an inch taller than my six three.

He’s an athletic guy, thirty-something, wearing jeans and a Walker Security polo.

His nose sharp, his jawline sharper, with a day-old shadow, the look on his face unreadable.

“Adam,” he says, offering me his hand but not his last name.

“Ethan Dalton,” I greet, engaging in the shake before I back up and welcome him. “Come on in.” I start walking and call over my shoulder. “Coffee?”

“No thanks, man. I’ve had a pot this morning.”

“My kind of man,” I say as we sit at the island. “What’s your story, Adam?”

“My father was CIA. He trained me. It sucked. I enlisted. I was SEAL Team Six. Now I’m a member of another elite team, which is Walker.”

“Impressive resume. What kind of fucked up shit is my brother into?”

“It’s not the mob,” he assures me. “I’d guess that’s Anna trying to get your attention.”

“That’s one piece of good news but if not the mob, what are we dealing with?”

“These guys involved in this cybersecurity company are shady as fuck. They steal from their investors. They bankrupt them. They have a trail a dozen deep. They tell them all this is it. This is the big one and they’re those ‘selling ice to Eskimos’ sales pitch kind of people.

They convince the investor to hand over more and more money.

The real problem here is the propensity for extortion if there’s that option.

Which is part of how they bankrupt people. ”

“Holy fuck,” I murmur. “And this is the company he’s recommending to the board as an investment.”

“That’s the other thing I need to mention,” Adam adds. “These guys convinced Grant to buy in on the backend. He doesn’t look like an investor, but he is. Therefore, when he goes to the board, he won’t look as if he’s connected, but he’s double dipping.”

“And when this goes belly up, he’s in the dirt.”

“Exactly.”

I scrub my jaw and reach under the counter, pull out a bottle of fine whiskey and two glasses, setting one in front of Adam. “You in for a shot? I fucking need it.”

“I’m a better shot one whiskey down, so yeah. Hit me, baby.”

I laugh and fill his glass. “Dalmore 30 year. It’s a hell of a bottle. Enjoy.”

“I love a good Dalmore,” he says, making it clear he’s not without money or taste, before he lifts his glass. “To kicking the ass of dumb brothers.”

“You have one, too?”

“Yeah. His name is Rick Savage, and he’s a brother from another mother, my Walker brother, and he frequently needs his ass kicked.” He lifts the glass but pauses to add, “but he’s the guy you want by your side when all hell breaks loose.”

I laugh and we tilt the shots back at the same time, and for me, the burn oh so good. We both plant our glasses on the bar. “Damn good,” Adam murmurs. “Thanks, man.”

I’d like to offer us both another, but my brother and his monkey business has to come first. “Where is my father now?” I ask

“About to have lunch with Grant at Francine’s. They have reservations for eleven am. Need a ride? One of my guys is downstairs behind the wheel of an SUV.”

“Let’s do it.”

A few minutes later, I’m in the backseat with Adam next to me. “Anything else I need to know?”

“You can save the company’s involvement, but your brother is in this. He’s going to need help to get out.”

“Can you handle it?”

“Of course. We enjoy getting rid of scavengers, but it would be easier with his cooperation.”

“Assume it won’t be easy and do it anyway, even against his will. I don’t care what it costs me.”

Adam inclines his chin. “Consider it done.”

We pull up to the restaurant, a Fifth Street spot my father favors for its high-profile clientele that allows him to rub elbows with the who’s who of the city. “Send me your contact information,” I say, opening the door.

“Already in your email, as is proof of everything I just told you,” he replies, “but I’ll shoot you a text now as well.” He pulls his phone from his pocket and a moment later, my phone pings. “If you need me,” he adds, “text. Any time of the day or night.”

There’s something about Adam; a calm quietness, that is somehow as brutal as it is lethal. He’s a decent man, but not so decent that he won’t kill you if you force his hand. I wouldn’t want to cross him and I like that about him.

“You want us to hang out and give you a lift out of here?” he asks.

“I’ll hire a service. Thanks, man.” I incline my chin and exit to the street, stopping at the doorman’s post. “I need a car in fifteen minutes.” I palm him a large bill, and I’m already entering the building.

During the ride up the elevator to the top floor, I scan the proof Adam has emailed me and it’s solid. My brother is in trouble and he wants to drag us all along for the ride.

That ends now.