Hellion, a New Adult Romance Novel (The Rebel Series) (28 page)

Speak of the devil, the guy who’s acting as the referee in this mess walks back into the room.

“Okay.
 
I have a response for you.
 
As you know, you’ve asked for the initial public offering of the company to be delayed until the issue of share ownership is resolved.
 
I recommended to the acting CEO that they do so.”
 
He pauses to make sure we’re all paying attention.
 
He’s like a fucking theater actor the way he stands there moving his bushy eyebrows around and clasping his hands together.
 
Just when I think he’s about to bust out a ‘To be or not to be…’ soliloquy, he says, “But they have declined to take my recommendation.”

All the attorneys in the room either sigh heavily or swear.

“What does that mean?” asked Teagan.
 
“How can they go ahead with the IPO if they have this lawsuit coming from me?
 
You said that all pending lawsuits would have to be resolved before they went public.”

I reach over and put my hand over hers.
 
She’s clearly upset, and I don’t blame her.
 
All this stuff is ridiculous.

The main attorney looks at her and leans forward, resting his forearms on the table.
 
“Generally speaking, that is the case.
 
Investors do not like the threat of litigation hanging over the company.
 
If the company were to lose any pending suits, it’s the investors who would end up paying in the form of reduced value of the company and therefore reduced value of the shares they bought.
 
So for that reason, most IPOs do not take place until all threats of litigation are at least managed.”
 
He turns his attention to the mediator.
 
“Did they offer up any explanation for their thought process on this one?”

“Unfortunately … yes.”
 
He looks over at Teagan for a second before completing his explanation for the lawyers.
 
“Apparently, they are of the opinion that because the information received by Ms. Cross was confidential, and because she was not entitled to receive that confidential information, it cannot be used as evidence in any case against them.”

“That’s fine, we’ll just get discovery in pre-trial.
 
Problem solved,” says one of the lawyers.

“Not so fast,” says the theater-major.
 
“What they’re claiming - and I’m not vouching personally for their ability to prove this, but you must consider that it’s possible they will convince a judge of this - is that the documents that were put on that thumb drive by Mr. Cross were attorney work product and not subject to discovery.”

“Bullshit!” says the youngest lawyer in the room.
 
“That is complete and utter bullshit and you know it and they know it!”

The main lawyer holds his hand up at the other rowdy one and addresses the mediator calmly.
 
“Is there anything they said that gives you reason to believe they might be able to make this work?”

The mediator looks at the floor, drawing out the silence on purpose, I’m sure of it.
 
He clasps his hands behind his back and rocks up on his heels as he looks at the ceiling next.

Teagan and I are squeezing the crap out of each other’s fingers as we wait for him to deliver the goods.

“Well?” asks the young lawyer.
 
Apparently he doesn’t have the patience for theater.
 
Thank God for that guy.
 
I give him a smile that he nods acknowledgment of.

“I don’t want to mince words,” the mediator says, casting a glance over at Teagan.

She and I share a WTF look.

“By all means, don’t.
 
We need to know,” says the older lawyer.
 
“What did they say?”

The mediator sighs.
 
“They are saying that Mrs. Cross, the acting CEO, had been in the process of having her husband declared incompetent before his death, and that the financials that were being drafted up and the memos that went back and forth were for the legal team she hired to manage that process.”

“Incompetent?” Teagan says, sounding lost.
 
“What does that even mean?”

Her question probably sounds stupid to these lawyers, but I know exactly what she’s getting at.
 
Her father was the smartest guy I’ve never met.

The lawyers around the table share stunned and confused looks.

Only the main guy seems non-plussed. “Is there any medical evidence to support this claim?” he asks.

“It appears as if there might be.”
 
The mediator looks at Teagan.
 
“I’m sorry, Miss.
 
I know this probably comes as a shock to you.”

Teagan stands.
 
“Are you trying to tell me that my father was somehow looney tunes, and that he wasn’t capable of running his business anymore or something?”

I stand next to her, my legs too jumpy to manage sitting anymore.
 
I feel like running until I drop. Fight or flight?
 
Why, yes, thank you.
 
I’ll take flight, please.

“Yes, it appears as if that’s the case,” says the main lawyer.
 
He sounds tired.
 
“Do they have medical records?”

“Yes,” says the mediator. He’s lost most of his pizzaz. “Fully documented incidents of confusion, mistakes made, and other behaviors very out-of-character for him.”

“I talked to my dad once a month.
 
There was never anything wrong with him,” says Teagan.
 
Her vehemence trails out near the end, and it makes me grab her wrist and fumble around until I can get her fingers to weave in with mine.

“Come on, Teagan. Let’s go,” I say.
 
I’m afraid we’re both going to start bawling if we don’t get the hell out of here.

“We need to give them a response,” the older lawyer says, standing up.
 
Everyone around the table follows his lead.
 
I feel like I’m at a funeral with all these suits around us.

Teagan opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. When her chin starts to tremble, I start talking.

“You can tell them that we know better and that we are not going to put up with their bullshit any longer.
 
We have the evidence and we know Mr. Cross was more than competent, and if he wasn’t, it was something they did to him.”
 
I look at Teagan.
 
“Right, Teagan?
 
They can take that lie and shove it, right?”

Her bottom jaw juts out as her eyes fill with tears.
 
“Yes,” she finally croaks out.

“Right.”
 
I look around the room as I tug her towards the door.
 
“You can tell that Mrs. Cross that we’re coming for her.
 
Are you guys prepared to do that?” I address my question to the head guy.
 
“Do you think Teagan has a chance?”

“I cannot say for certain, but their explanation needs looking into before we make any big decisions.”

“Fine.
 
You look into it and call Teagan when you’re ready.
 
I’m going to do my own stuff on the side.”

He tilts his head at me.
 
“Your own stuff?
 
What, pray tell, might that be?”

“You don’t need to worry about that part of it.
 
Just do your job.
 
Please.”
 
I pull Teagan the rest of the way out of the conference room and stride down the hallway, dragging her along next to me.
 
I have to put my shoulder into it because she’s turned into a human sandbag.

“I can’t believe it,” she says, her voice mostly a whisper.
 
“I can’t believe she would do something like that.”

We are out the front door before I feel comfortable answering.
 
I stop and look her in the eyes.
 
“What I said in there about your dad, I believe.
 
But they can’t just pull stories like this out of their assholes without some kind of evidence. This isn’t television. Judges don’t fall for that shit. Something was up with your dad, so we just have to find out what it is.” We start walking again.

“My dad was healthy and smart and totally with it,” Teagan says, her tone defensive.

We reach her car in the parking lot and I stop with her at her door.
 
“You don’t believe that one hundred percent,” I say, testing the waters.
 
I don’t want her flipping out on me, but I need her to be truthful.

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t.
 
I heard you hesitate in there and here now, too.
 
Tell me what you’re thinking.”

I put my hand on the door so she can’t open it.

She sighs heavily and swipes the back of her hand over her eyes.
 
“Fine.
 
The last time I talked to him he sounded weird.”

“Weird how?”

“Weird weird.
 
Like, not confident anymore.”
 
She shakes her head in frustration.
 
“Never mind.
 
It’s stupid.”

I turn her by the shoulders to face me.
 
“No, it’s not stupid.
 
It’s your dad. Tell me what happened.”

Tears come out and slide down her cheeks. She doesn’t bother to wipe them away this time.
 
“He was just … out of it.
 
He’s never out of it.”

“Details, Tea-Tea. Details.”

“When he called me, he sounded drunk.
 
But not drunk, you know?”

“No, I don’t know.
 
Explain.”
 
I feel like I’m talking to my brother right now.
 
I try not to get mad at her for it.

“Just disoriented.
 
Frustrated with himself.
 
And he told me he loved me.”

“You didn’t tell me that before.”
 
I know how weird that must have been for her.
 
“He’s never said that, has he?”

“No, not that I could remember.
 
I didn’t say anything about it because it was embarrassing.
 
My dad never lost his cool, never drank more than one drink, never said anything at all mushy.
 
He was just … him.
 
The boss.
 
The guy who paid the bills and made me come home every summer to be bored out of my mind.
 
He wasn’t a mess, which is what he sounded like that day.
 
I just wrote it off as a bad dream or something.”

I put my hands on her cheeks.
 
“You are not responsible for what happened to him.”

She bursts out bawling.

Crash!
 
Hammer goes boom on that nail head.

“I should have called a doctor!” she wails.
 
“I should have gone to see him!
 
I should have called him back!”

“Stop it!” I shout in her face.
 
And then I continue more calmly.
 
“
Stop
freaking out over something that’s not your fault.
 
When did he call you?
 
Can you remember?”

She shakes her head.
 
“It was weeks before he died.
 
It wasn’t just before it happened.”

I grab her by the shoulders and squeeze, giving her upper body a little wiggle to get her attention back on me.
 
“Listen, there’s nothing you could have done.
 
He had a heart attack and he passed away, which is awful, I know that and you’re right to be sad.
 
But if there’s anything that
they
did, those ass-munching company stealing I-don’t-want-to-say-the-word-I’m-thinking kind of people, we need to figure out what it was.”
 
I can’t say the word
murderers
in Teagan’s presence.
 
She’ll lose what little cool she has left and probably run out into traffic.

She nods through her tears.
 
Again, I’m reminded of Jersey.

“Come on.
 
Let’s go talk to Rebel.”

I take her keys from her and put her in the passenger seat.
 
Once she’s buckled, I drive back to Rebel Wheels, keeping one eye on the road and the other on my friend.
 
She’s fallen into a trance.

I text Rebel at a stoplight just a few blocks away from our destination and tell him to meet us outside so at least I won’t have to try and carry her in.
 
I’ve never seen her look so devastated.
 
I’m worried sick by the time we get to the Rebel Wheels parking lot.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

REBEL, COLIN, AND MICK ARE all standing outside waiting for Teagan’s arrival.
 
As soon as she sees that wall of gorgeously muscled badassery, she starts crying all over again.

I can’t help but be a little stunned by the picture they make myself.
 
Get in my panties, boys.
 
Holy, holy.

As soon as Rebel opens the door and scoops his girlfriend up into his arms, my brain goes back to normal function.
 
Mick is here.
 
There will be no sexy talk, so sexy thoughts, and no sexy sex.
 
We are just friends because our favorite people are in love.
 
That’s it and that’s all.
 
Ten-four, over and out.

“What in the hell are you doing out of the hospital?” I ask, slamming the door shut.
 
I sound mad, but I’m not.
 
I’m worried.
 
What if his stitches rip and his guts fall out?
 
How will I save him then?