Page 43 of Things We Left Behind

“Then what is it?”

“Sloane.”

My grip tightened on the pen in my hand. “You don’t seem like the type of woman to let other people call the shots in your life,” I said evenly.

Lina scoffed. “Sloane didn’t tell me not to take the job. My hesitation lies in the fact that you’re an asshole to one of my only friends for vague reasons that you both refuse to explain.”

I said nothing and Lina continued.

“Maybe you’re carrying some multi-­decade grudge about something that happened when you were practically children, which would be pathetic. Or maybe you had a secret torrid affair that went south and now you can’t stand her, which would be immature. Maybe she ran over your pet tarantula when she was learning to drive. I honestly don’t care about the why. The bottom line is I don’t want to dedicate my working life to a man who treats my friend badly. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a politician to blackmail.”

Trip Armistead was a blond-­haired, blue-­eyed southerner who prided himself on his charm and pedigree.

He was also an asshole who had officially outlived his usefulness.

He entered my office, arms spread, palms up, a man certain of his importance. I looked forward to ruining that.

“Lucian, old friend. We should have done this in Atlanta. I was in my shirtsleeves on the golf course two days ago,” Trip said, heading straight for the decanter of bourbon I kept on a side table. He poured himself a glass and gestured toward me with it. “Want one?”

“No thanks, Trip. I’m afraid our meeting won’t last long enough for you to finish that.”

“Now what’s this all about?” he asked affably as he took a seat in one of the chairs in front of my desk.

“You’re not going to run for the Senate. In fact, you’re not going to run for reelection. You’re going to resign your position and scurry out of the spotlight like a cockroach on a kitchen floor.”

“I beg your pardon?” His knuckles whitened against the glass.

I got out of my chair and rounded my desk. “When we came on board, you assured me there weren’t going to be any problems, any dirty little secrets. Do you remember that?”

Trip swallowed reflexively. “Of course. I gave you my word. I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I’ve been nothing but—­”

“I’m going to stop you there, Trip, because if you lie to my face, this will get ugly. And I don’t have time for ugly.” I handed over the folder Lina had prepared in record time.

The glass slid from Trip’s hand.

I caught it before it hit the ground and placed it on my desk with a hardclink. “I see I have your attention.”

“How… Why?”

The bravado, the confidence was unraveling faster and faster now.

“You do know who I am, don’t you, Trip? You understand how serious I am about protecting my clients while paving their way into history. Can you really be that stupid to think I would take you at your word? I protect my investments…even from themselves.”

“I have a wife, daughters.”

“You should have thought of them before you hired two sex workers in less than twenty-­four hours.”

He was visibly shaking now.

“I warned you what would happen if you crossed me,” I reminded him.

“I didn’t cross you. This isn’t what it looks like,” he sputtered.

“The girl you hired this morning? She turned eighteen last week. Your oldest daughter is what? Sixteen?” I asked.

“I-­It’s a sex addiction. I’ll get help,” Trip decided. “We’ll keep it quiet, I’ll get treatment, and everything will be fine.”

I shook my head. “I see it’s not sinking in yet. You’re finished. There’s no way for you to throw yourself on the mercy of the court of public opinion, because they’ll eat you alive. Especially seeing as how you missed the vote on veterans benefits because you were paying to have your cock sucked.”