Love After All (33 page)

“So you gonna help me or what?”

The voice was too loud and too obnoxious.

“Shh,” he mustered with great difficulty. The sound seemed to add to the sizzle as his brain fried.

“What? Don't hush me, you promised to help me, so what are you going to do?”

He was in bed, that much he surmised, and by the close feel of the sheets he was naked. The question was, where was he and who the hell was screaming at him. He began to doze off again when the fire was stoked and his head reignited into a full blaze.

“Eric, do you hear me talking to you? I know you hear me. Answer me. What are you going to do, are you going to help me or what?”

The loud noise needed to stop, but he had no idea how to turn it off. He didn't know any prayers to say, so he said the only one he could think of.

“What the hell are you talking about, now I lay me down to sleep? Are you crazy or something? I bring you home with me this afternoon and you can't even get it up to show me what you got and that's all you can say is some children's prayer. What's wrong with you?”

“Please stop,” he said, his voice trembling in angst.

“What?”

“Stop,” he begged slightly louder. “Just shut up.”

“What? Oh, no, you didn't just tell me to shut up in my house. Get your butt up out of my bed and get out, now.” She watched as Eric's smile widened and he began to snore. “Fine, I'll do it myself, it was time for you to leave anyway.” She stomped out of the bedroom.

Eric smiled and slept in peace. Whatever banshee he'd just defeated he was proud of himself. But for a dream, or rather a nightmare, it felt awfully real. The thought eased his mind and nearly extinguished the fire burning in his head.

The next time he woke up he was butt naked on the pavement on Hollywood Boulevard and being forcefully helped into a car by two police officers.

“Y
ou knew about Lincoln and Eric from the beginning, right?” Samantha asked.

Jefferson nodded.

“So why didn't you just stop them before now?”

“I got there too late. By that time Eric had already set you up and you were walking right into it.”

“That's when you called me at his apartment?”

“Yes.” He looked over at the screen. “Is everything ready?”

She nodded.

“Okay, let's get started. Jackson should be on his way to the office and Jessie will need this.”

“He's not going to be happy about this.”

“The final outcome is all that matters. Daley Communications will be safe and he'll have control and that's what Rachel wanted.”

“I've been manipulating him from day one.”

“He'll understand that everything you did was to protect him, Jessie and Rachel. Trust me, I know what I'm doing. I've been doing this a long time.”

Samantha nodded. She did trust her brother.

“You're in love with him, aren't you?” he asked, smiling happily.

Samantha smiled back and looked at Jefferson as he took her hand. “Is it that obvious?” she asked.

“Only to your brother and possibly the rest of the world,” he said.

“I know, very unprofessional. I remember the golden rule, never make it personal and never fall for your mark.”

“First of all, lollipop, you're not a professional and Jackson was never a mark, and secondly, everything you did was because of love, for him, for me and for Dad.”

“He won't see it that way.”

“He will, just give him a chance and don't run.”

The doorbell rang. Both Samantha and Jefferson turned.

“Are we expecting someone else?” she asked. He shook his head.

“Then I guess I'd better get the door,” she said.

Samantha opened the front door. Shauna was standing there. “Shauna,” she said, “this isn't a good time.”

“I want to speak with Jackson now.”

“He's not here, you just missed him.”

“No games, Samantha Lee Taylor,” Shauna said nastily. “Yeah, that's right, I know your real name and what you are. So just run along and tell him I'm here. I left my sunglasses the last time.” She pushed past Samantha and walked in and dropped a pair of sunglasses on the foyer table. After pausing a second to glance in the living room, she turned back to Samantha. “Where is he?”

“I told you, he's not here. And I would think that you could afford more than one pair of sunglasses,” Samantha said, then picked up the sunglasses on the foyer table and handed them to her. She ignored them and continued looking around.

“Jackson,” Shauna called out, then waited. “Jackson, it's Shauna, I need to talk to you now.” She began climbing the stairs, then stopped when she heard the sound of water running in the kitchen. She smirked at Samantha, turned, and headed toward the back of the house. “Jackson, we need to—” She stopped, seeing Jefferson at the sink wiping a glass clean. “Who are you?”

Jefferson smiled as Samantha and Shauna entered the kitchen. “Where's Jackson?” Shauna asked.

“As I told you, he's not here,” Samantha said.

“But you are and you have a friend here, too. That's interesting.” She looked Jefferson up and down admiringly as she walked over to him. “Shauna Cooperman, and you are?”

“Pleased to meet you, Shauna,” Jefferson said without introducing himself.

“We're right in the middle of something right now,” Samantha said.

“I bet you are,” Shauna answered, smiling, assuming that she had something on Samantha.

“I'll tell Jackson that you stopped by.”

“Don't bother, I'll tell him myself,” she said, not taking her eyes off Jefferson.

Shauna turned to Samantha. “You are so busted.”

“Goodbye, Shauna. Don't forget your sunglasses.”

“What did you say your name was?” she asked Jefferson.

“I didn't,” he said, smiling.

Shauna nodded slyly, smiled and walked back to the front door. Samantha followed. “Here, don't forget these; I'm sure you wouldn't want to make another trip here.”

Shauna took the glasses, still smiling like the Cheshire cat. “You are so busted,” she said again.

As soon as the door closed she walked happily over to her car. This was even better than she had planned.

 

Marcus had sat in the main lobby of Cooperman Enterprises and waited for the past thirty minutes. He stood and walked over to the security desk. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

The security guard looked up from his newspaper. “Yeah, I know you. I worked at your company a few months ago. I got laid off.”

“Well, things are tough all over. I'm waiting to see George Cooperman. Is he here?”

“I'll check,” the guard said, then went back to reading his newspaper.

Disgusted, Marcus walked over to the bank of elevators and pressed the button to the one marked Penthouse. Nothing happened. “This isn't working,” he called out down the hall. The guard ignored him. He walked back to the large semicircular desk. “I need the key.”

“Sorry, no one goes up without being invited by Mr. Cooperman personally.”

Marcus fumed and walked back over to the waiting area and sat down. He opened his cell phone and called Eric again. There was still no answer. He called George's private line, no answer. Furious, he stormed out.

 

Driving like a madman, Jackson arrived at Daley Communications in record time. He headed straight to his sister's office. Her door was already open.

“What's the emergency?”

“I got a call from a friend of mine. Eric was arrested this evening.”

“Good.” Jackson smiled, feeling somewhat vindicated that at least something went right today.

“He was picked up on Hollywood Boulevard passed out and drunk.”

“This keeps getting better.”

“Dad gave him a ten-million-dollar cashier's check. He was naked when they picked him up. No identification, no clothes, no check.”

“You mean ten million dollars just disappeared?”

She nodded.

“Where's Dad?”

“I have no idea.”

Jackson sat down just as Jessie's phone rang. She picked it up, nodded and smiled. “Thank you, we owe you.” Whoever responded and whatever they said made her smile. She hung up.

Jackson looked at her. “Who was that?”

“A friend of the family,” she said as she sat at her desk and waited, looking at the computer screen.

“Who, Paul?”

“No, Jefferson Taylor, Samantha's brother.”

“Jefferson Taylor, as in Robert Taylor's son?”

“Yes.”

“You know him?” he asked, stunned. “How is that possible?”

“We met a long time ago. Mom introduced us.”

“Mom?” he asked. “Wait, you knew about her past, didn't you?”

Jessie nodded.

“She told you and not me?”

“She never wanted to disappoint you, Jackson. You put her on a pedestal, she was perfect as far as you were concerned.”

Her computer message sounded. She opened her e-mail, read quickly, smiled, then looked up at Jackson. He walked to her and stood over her shoulder. He read the message, and then together they opened and read through the attached files.

“He got these, how?”

“Actually, Samantha sent them.”

“Samantha, but she's not a—” Jackson stopped midsentence and looked at his sister differently. “What's going on?”

“I was supposed to meet Samantha at the airport, then at the hotel. Imagine my surprise when my brother met her instead.”

“You knew Samantha before? Why didn't you—”

“No, actually I'd never met Samantha until that day at your house. She's just as I imagined. Mom once told me that if I ever needed help, Jefferson would be the one to call.”

“Because family is forever,” Jackson quoted Samantha.

She nodded. “Even extended family. Paul told me that one of his contacts heard in the wind that George Cooperman was going to make another attempt at getting the company. I needed help.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“It was right after Mom died and you were too busy keeping everything else together. You didn't need this, too. So I called in a favor.”

“Jefferson. But he's a con artist, they both are.”

“
Was
a con artist. He's very much retired. He works mostly with a friend of his now, Grant Andrews. But the story on the street is that he's either in jail or in hiding. He says it keeps him free and honest.”

“Grant Andrews, the FBI prosecutor?”

“Yes.”

Jackson's mouth dropped open as Jessie continued, “He was right in the middle of another case when I asked him for help. He couldn't come, so he got Samantha to come instead. And since Grant was going to need information from a computer system, she was perfect. The whole Eric thing was just a coincidence.” She began printing out several pages.

“She was with him the whole time?”

“I don't know. I do know that Jefferson sent Samantha to help with the computer part and apparently she did. I can't believe she found all this.” She handed him a few papers.

“What's this?”

“For your approval.”

Jackson read through the paper, smiling. “Fine, perfect, but with one little change,” he said, then picked up a pen and wrote it in.

“Are you sure about this?”

“One hundred percent. Where's Dad?”

“He was out earlier.”

Moments later, Jackson walked into his father's office without knocking. Jessie followed. Marcus stood at his desk packing his briefcase. He looked up to see Jackson walking over to him and Jessie taking a seat. “Make it brief,” he said.

“I can do better than that.” He tossed an envelope on the desk. Marcus picked it up and looked at it.

“I hope these are the documents. It took you long enough.”

Jackson smiled. “Open it up.”

Marcus picked up his letter opener and cut through the envelope. He pulled out a pink folded paper and quickly read through it, then looked up at his son. “Is this some kind of sick joke?”

“No, your services at Daley Communications are no longer needed. You will vacate the position of CEO immediately.”

“You can't do that. The board meeting—”

“Doesn't matter anymore. Jessie turned all of her shares over to me and I turned the company over to her.”

“You can't—”

“It's already been done and it's perfectly legal. We even had a federal prosecutor look it over.”

“Get out.”

“Actually that should be my line,” Jessie said, smiling.

“You think this is over? You have no idea what's going on.”

“Actually, we do. You've been working with George Cooperman to sell the company from under us just as you tried to do thirty years ago. Mom stopped you then, we're stopping you now.”

“This is my company. He turned it over to her.”

“She was better suited.”

“She was a con artist with a record. The only reason I married her was because he made me marry her to secure the deal. A deal I never wanted.”

“You were selling the company.”

“I'm expanding my options. And George—”

“Can't even help himself.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It seems that your plan to distract me worked too well. Yes, we got the information you and George planted, but we also acquired more damaging information. There's a federal warrant sworn out for George Cooperman. I suspect he's running about now.”

“What?”

“Apparently the FBI received an anonymous file containing a number of damaging documents. It seems he's been lying to a federal grand jury. That's a punishable offense—jail time.”

“He'd never get—”

“He's on the run.”

Marcus sat down slowly. The once-pompous man shriveled, dejected in his chair. He read through the papers again. “This isn't over.”

“It is. Your number-one ally has fled. Lincoln and Eric will be picked up and charged as soon as they're caught. And since there were warrants out on both con men already, they'll be unavailable for quite some time.”