CHAPTER TWO
Bree zipped the royal blue sundress outlined with white ribbon and slid her feet into a pair of wedges. After arriving home from England, she’d told Marcus to order whatever was needed for the latest plans he'd received. When she got hold of Mr. Ward, she was going to tell him they couldn’t afford to wait on his uncertainty. She’d heard many wonderful things about him, but he was being so indecisive she couldn’t imagine why everyone loved him so much.
Bree blew out a breath as she tried to push Mr. Ward from her mind. Today was her older sister Elle and Drake’s wedding shower, and she had to prepare for it. Bree and her younger sister, Allegra, knew the pitfalls of a wedding shower after being ambushed at the last one. Bree looked in the mirror and tried to find a serene smile. “Why, no, I’m not dating anyone. Yes, I know I’m not getting any younger. No, I don’t feel unfulfilled with my life because I’m not married,” she practiced saying to her reflection.
Elle and Drake defied the odds. They were two immensely powerful people who found a way to make the quality of their time together more important than the quantity of it. She’d never seen her sister happier and Drake already felt like another brother. Speaking of brothers . . .
“Hello, Reid,” Bree said into her phone. Reid, the oldest of the Simpson clan, was probably trying to find any excuse to skip the couple’s shower this afternoon.
“Yeah, so I don’t think I can make it today,” Reid started.
“Washing your hair?” Bree asked sweetly.
“If it gets me out of going to this thing, then yeah.”
Bree let out a long-suffering sigh that only sisters with brothers could make. “Reid, if Allegra and I have to be subjected to this, then so do you. You’re Elle’s one and only brother. You have to be there. Besides, Mallory just told Elle she can’t make it, and Elle’s devastated that her best friend can’t come. You can’t do this to her. So grow a pair and get your butt over there to support your sister.”
“Well, I guess I can make an appearance. I’ve heard showers are a good place to pick up women.”
“I think you were adopted,” Bree said dryly before hanging up to the sounds of Reid’s chuckles.
Bree grabbed the present and her keys and headed out the front door. When she saw her car, she knew something was wrong but couldn’t tell what it was until she looked down. The tires were flat. She felt her chest tighten as she looked wildly around. Was the person who did this still here or was it a freak accident? As she stepped closer to the car, she got her answer. The tires were slashed.
Stepping around the car, Bree felt all the blood drain to her feet as her body went numb with shock. In bright pink spray paint were the words
I like getting nailed by big hammers
. She stared at the letters as cars drove by and honked their approval. Her face went red with embarrassment, but it quickly turned to anger. Bree dug around her purse and pulled out her cell phone. She called the police and then a tow truck.
There was really only one person she could call who was going to the shower and who had bad enough eyesight that she might not notice the neon pink spray paint. While she waited, she sent a text to Mallory to ask her to dig up some dirt on Logan Ward. She wasn’t above blackmail to get this job done.
Standing on the side of the road as far away from her car as possible while the tow truck hooked it up, Bree held out her hand and waved. The red sporty convertible swerved across the road and came to a screeching halt.
“Hello, dear.”
“Hi, Shirley. Thanks for picking me up.” Bree smiled at her father’s former secretary who was now the office manager for Simpson Global. Shirley wouldn’t tell anyone her real age, but Bree and her sisters were pretty sure it was well past eighty.
“No problem. Just don’t plan on a ride home. I’m picking up a nice young buck. These parties are easy pickings. So are fraternity parties for that matter.”
Bree was pretty sure she’d just found Reid’s birth parent. Margaret, their mother, would never dream of picking up men half her age . . . or younger. No, Margaret was a stickler for Southern manners. It didn’t matter that she was born poor. She believed manners made the woman. However, it also didn’t stop her and Shirley from being close friends. In fact, Shirley acted as if Margaret were her daughter and Bree and the rest of the Simpson gang were her grandkids. Which worked out perfectly for Bree, because who else could she have called with a sexual innuendo written on her car?
“That’s fine. I’m sure Allegra can take me home. Happy hunting,” Bree said as she tried to angle her body to shield her car as they drove by. Too bad it didn’t work.
“Hammer, huh? Men. Always overvaluing what’s between their legs. I’d say it’s more like a pickle, maybe a zucchini if you’re lucky,” Shirley said casually as she sped off down the street. Bree groaned, waiting for the inquisition, but it never came.
“I’m telling you, I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve. You don’t live as many years as I do without learning a thing or two. There was this one time during the war I walked into a bar where all these sailors were on day pass and let me tell you . . .” Bree stuck her fingers in her ears and started humming. Maybe she should have called Allegra after all.
Bree got out of the sports car and walked around to the tiny trunk to help Shirley pull out her walker.
Blink if you think I’m sexy
was hanging between the handles of the walker. Bree shook her head as Shirley gave her a wink and headed for the house.
Leaning into the back seat, Bree picked up the gifts for Elle and Drake, followed Shirley inside, and almost laughed out loud when she saw her mother’s living room set up like a middle school dance. The girls were all in a circle on one side of the room talking while the men stood along the other side looking horribly uncomfortable.
Reid came out of the kitchen with a handful of beers. As he passed Bree, he leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Hey, sis. Please tell mom men don’t drink those fruity drinks. If we’re going to suffer through this, sneak us the good stuff, will ya?”
“Seriously? It’s only two hours long.”
“Games, Bree. There are shower games,” Reid said almost desperately.
Bree cringed. “In that case, I may join you.”
Reid darted away as Aunt Flory zeroed in on Bree.
“Coward!” Bree hissed at her brother’s retreating back. “Hi, Aunt Flory.”
“Oh, you poor dear! It must be so hard for you to be here.” Aunt Flory’s dyed red hair bobbed as she pooh-poohed Bree.
“Um, no. I’m actually pretty happy to be here.” Bree put on her best smile and searched the room for a rescue. Allegra was hiding behind a ficus tree and Reid was doing his best to use Finn, Elle’s former driver who had been promoted to sports agent when he earned his law degree, as a shield.
“To see your sister so happy and your cousin, my baby, so in love with Phillip, must hurt right here.” Flory thumped her chest over her heart.
“Ah, but they’re stuck with one hammer now. I like all kinds of hammers.” Bree smiled before doing the fake wave to an imaginary person across the room and leaving her aunt standing in total confusion.
She knew she only had minutes until her mother found her and called her to task for saying something crude, but Aunt Flory had always looked out for number one and never really cared about them until they became rich. Now they just tolerated her for the sake of Cousin Mary. Mary had blossomed when she stepped away from her negative mother and found love with Drake’s best friend and assistant, Phillip. He was outgoing, funny, and somehow had broken through Mary’s shell and brought her true self out.
“Hammers? Really, Bree?” Her mother had caught her before she’d made it to the hiding spot behind the ficus tree.
Bree looked at her mother decked out in her white trousers and bright yellow silk shirt and sighed. Reid had been right to try to get out of coming, but she loved Elle and would somehow find the inner peace to survive this.
“You’re thirty-one years old and you’re talking about
hammers
? If only
hammers
were the truth, then at least there’d be a shot of getting married! Now mind your
P
s and
Q
s and mingle. And for God’s sake, get your sister out from behind that tree and don’t you dare sneak a bottle of bourbon for your brother. Alma! It’s so good to see you again.” Bree’s mother disappeared just as fast as she had appeared.
“We’ve been busted,” Bree told Allegra.
“Shhh. I don’t want Aunt Flory to find me. Mom’s friends have asked me constantly about my love life.” Allegra, the VP of Simpson Fashion, must have planned her hiding spot. The beautiful jungle-green sheath dress she wore blended perfectly with the ficus.
“Yeah, she already caught me. Where did Mom hide the bourbon? It’s going to be a long evening and this fruity concoction isn't gonna cut it.”
“Behind her cookbooks. Oh, crap.” Allegra looked up and saw Aunt Flory lock eyes with her. “I think I’ve been found. Thanks a lot, sis.”
“Love ya!” Bree giggled as she hurried away to talk to Elle.
Bree fought her way through the crowd of women toward her older sister. “Elle,” Bree called out. Elle smiled at her and held out her hand, parting the crowd so she was able to hug her sister.
“Excuse me, ladies. I have to talk maid of honor stuff with my sister,” Elle said in her politest boardroom voice. The reaction was immediate as they all smiled and, with hungry eyes, turned on the men. “Oh dear, Aunt Flory has Allegra cornered.”
“This is what I call a moral dilemma. Save her but sacrifice myself or save myself,” Bree said seriously.
“You may not have to. Look,” Elle gave a quick glance to where Finn was extricating himself from the clutches of the women. And who could blame them. Finn was a retired major league baseball player and six foot three inches of muscled hotness. The light tan suit contrasted with his dark skin, giving him an appealing look of casual elegance. Too bad she thought of him more as a little brother, even if they were the same age.
“What’s going on there?” Bree wondered as she and Elle watched Finn walk over to Allegra and wrap his arm around her.
“I don’t know, but I really want to find out. Look how wide Aunt Flory’s eyes are. I wonder what he said.”
“You don’t think they’re together, do you? I mean, look at how he’s looking at her. I’m growing hot all the way over here,” Bree teased.
“No kidding. But as far as I know, Allegra hasn’t dated anyone since that asshole last year.”
“At least I’m not the only one in a dry spell.” Bree found working with men all day had the opposite reaction one might suspect. She heard dirty jokes, complaints about wives and girlfriends, and saw enough spitting to fill the Mississippi River. When she got home at night, the last thing she wanted was to be with more men.
“You know my history wasn’t stellar until I met Drake. Just don’t let Mom think she had a hand in it or she’ll start matchmaking again.”
“Had a hand in what?” Drake, Elle’s tech genius fiancé, asked as he walked up with two mimosas.
“Hooking you two up,” Bree said before taking a sip and coughing. “This isn’t a mimosa.”
Drake smiled and she heard Elle sigh with pleasure. Ugh, she was going to have to be around this all the time now. “Vodka. I saw you with Aunt Flory earlier.” Okay, so maybe she could put up with mushy stuff. Drake was going to be a pretty awesome brother-in-law.
“We were just watching that,” Elle said with a nod to Finn and Allegra. “Do you know anything about it?”
Drake shrugged his broad shoulders. “They’re just friends. Allegra helped Finn a lot when he was putting together the proposal to buy the sports agency. Finn mentioned she was recommending a couple of big-name models to Simpson Entertainment Agency, too.”
“And I go to Finn’s gym with her in the morning, but I don’t see anything unusual going on between them.” Elle lowered her voice. “Don’t let Aunt Flory hear us, but look at Mary and Phillip. Since they got together, it’s like she’s a new person. Before she moped around the office and would never do much for us. But now she’s killing it in the PR department and looks so happy and confident.”
“Phillip, too. He’s pulled back some of his outrageous behavior and is suddenly using words like
future
and
I’ll check with Mary
,” Drake joked.
“I’m so happy for them.” Bree was interrupted by her phone. “Marcus?”
“Marcus?” Margaret’s head popped up from across the room.
“He’s my site manager,” Bree hissed as she put her hand over the phone. “It’s Saturday. What’s going on?”
Bree listened to Marcus and hung up with a sigh. Apparently it wasn’t only her car that had been vandalized.
CHAPTER THREE
Logan had worked without sleep for almost two days. His secretary was about to kill him, and he was about to kill the next person who dared talk to him. But he’d gotten two weeks’ worth of work done in two days and was back at Heathrow Airport. This was the first time he was looking forward to an eight-and-a-half-hour flight.
Dragging his carry-on behind him, he walked down the gate and found his seat in Business Class. He was asleep before the door was closed. Dreams of telling the spoiled Simpson heir to go to hell filled his head. While he didn’t know Mr. Simpson, he’d heard all about him building up casinos in Europe with his inheritance. And he’d be stupid if he hadn’t heard of Elle Simpson. Apparently she wrangled her brother in from Europe. When Logan was in Dubai, he’d heard that Simpson had left for some build in Atlanta. He’d already reworked the Atlanta corporate center plans more times than he could remember and Mr. Simpson was about to learn that he couldn’t get everything he wanted.
* * *
Marcus stood with his hands on his jean-clad hips waiting for Bree. She parked on the street and popped the trunk to the sports car Reid let her borrow. As soon as she got out of the car, Marcus walked toward her.
“I don’t know the extent of the damage yet. I’ve called the police and the crew. As soon as the police get here and document everything, the crew will start cleaning it up,” Marcus said with a hard edge to his voice.
Bree rarely saw this side of him. Marcus was always calm and collected. Bree slipped off her wedges and grabbed her boots from the trunk. “Let’s go see the extent of the damage while we wait for everyone to show up.” She reached in again and pulled out her pink hard hat.
“It starts here. The office is ransacked.” Bree stomped across the dirt and gravel to where the office windows were smashed and hot pink spray paint covered the outside. The words
slut
and
whore
were written along the walls of the trailer.
Bree stepped into the office and wanted to cry. Papers were everywhere. Desks were broken. Cabinets lay in splinters around the room. “Were you able to save anything?”
“Everything was destroyed except for the papers I had at home. Luckily, those were the ones we need the most. I’d also saved all the computer files to an external hard drive. So really, it’s just a fright to look at, but it won’t ruin us.”
“Thank goodness. When Mallory gets home, I’ll have her increase security and see if she can do something to help.” Bree paused and let out a slow breath.
She knew that Elle would want to know, but Bree didn’t want to admit she had failed her big sister. Elle wouldn’t get mad; Bree knew that. But it didn’t mean admitting defeat would be welcome. Elle would become involved and the last thing she wanted was for her to be the target of those mysterious green letters. She needed to make sure she took control of the situation and handled it with competence to protect her sister.
“What else was damaged?” she asked.
“This is as far as I went. I can see spray paint on some of the equipment but thought I better call you first.”
“Let’s go take a look.” Bree set her jaw and focused all her attention on calculating the cost of the damage.
As she walked around the equipment, she saw members of the construction crew arriving. Soon police would come, but she had a feeling they wouldn’t be fast about it. Whoever was behind this had enough power to feel as if they were invincible, which usually meant they had a police or government contact.
Marcus tapped her on the shoulder as they took in the damage outside the building. “Police are finally here. It only took them an hour and a half,” he said with disgust.
“Ah, but that is good news,” Bree smiled as she waved to the uniformed officers and started to head their way.
“How?”
“Because that narrows my list of suspects to two. Only Trevor Marion and Jeff Henderson have those kinds of contacts. They inadvertently gave themselves away. Now we just have to figure out which one is behind this.” Bree stopped her explanation when some of the workers approached.
“What should we do, Bree?” Al, one of the workers, asked.
“As soon as the police wrap up, we’ll start cleaning up. I’m so sorry to call you all in today.”
“It’s okay. It gets us all riled up when this happens. Do you know who it was yet?”
“Not yet, but I have an idea. I’d better go talk to the police.” Bree and Marcus headed toward the police officers who were taking their sweet time getting out of the cruiser.
“You the senior site manager?” the older officer asked Marcus while ignoring Bree.
“That’s right,” Marcus said as he drew himself up. “And this is Miss Bree Simpson, the vice president of Simpson Steel and Construction.”
The police officer ignored her again. “What seems to be the problem?”
“The problem?” Bree asked incredulously. “You don’t see the spray paint everywhere or the broken windows?”
The police officer never looked at her. He slid his pad into his back pocket and addressed Marcus. “Probably just some construction hijinks. You know how it is.”
“Al,” Bree yelled. The group of workers stopped talking and big Al stepped forward. “Yes?”
Al was a loveable big teddy bear who also happened to be the size of a bear. He was at least three hundred and fifty pounds and six feet seven inches tall. More importantly, he could be very intimidating.
“This officer here believes all this damage was just construction site hijinks. Did you or any of the boys do this?” Bree called out. The men straightened to their full height and stared daggers at the officer whose collar suddenly felt tight by the way he pulled at it.
“No, ma’am. We’d never do something like that. You’re the best boss we’ve ever had, and I dare anyone to say otherwise,” Al said as he lumbered toward them. The other men all crossed their arms over their broad chests and nodded their agreement.
“Good, I’m glad we’ve got that cleared up. Al, why don’t you take this officer around the site and make sure he documents all the damage.”
“I’ll be happy to. Officer?” The officer gave an audible swallow and followed Al to the offices.
“I’m going to have a look inside. I hope they didn’t compromise the integrity of the structure,” Bree sighed.
“I’ll come with you,” Marcus said as they walked across the site toward the building.
* * *
Logan tossed his bags on the bed of the hotel and stepped to the window. Opening the curtains, he looked at the construction site he was here to visit. A pink hard hat stood out along with the hot pink spray paint that seemed to cover the site. It looks like Mr. Simpson was having some problems on site. Probably upset workers. If Mr. Simpson was such a pain in the ass to him, he couldn’t imagine what he put his workers through.
He looked around and saw the expensive sports car and the man standing next to the woman in the pink hardhat and bright blue sundress. She must be his trophy wife. Figures he’d drag some hot young thing along to the construction site with him. Men like him liked to show their virility through the women on their arms. Logan would deal with this later. He turned away from the problem and stripped off his shirt. A hot shower was needed before he dealt with B. Simpson.
Fifteen minutes later, Logan combed his wet hair away from his face and stepped into a pair of jeans. He looked back out the window as he tied his shoes and watched Mr. Simpson and his trophy wife with her “cute” pink hat head into the half-built building. Logan started to button his white shirt when an explosion rocked the hotel.
He grabbed the windowsill and watched in horror as part of the corporate center crashed to the ground. A cloud of dust left him unable to see anything on the site. Slowly it cleared enough for him to see fire lapping at the steel, smoke billowing into the sky, and men standing in shock as they stared at the collapsing building.