Polished (22 page)

Jack could feel his stomach curling in on itself. “Fine. I will. Talk to you later.” He ended the call and turned off his phone. Next he walked to the blinking light on the landline and played the message. At least it all made sense now.

Rory and Spencer came traipsing back down the hall, bags in tow. Spencer didn’t even look at him. That was bad enough. Rory’s eyes were bloodred. She gripped the shoulder strap of her bag with white knuckles. She stared directly at Jack as they turned the corner toward the front door. That look felt like a dagger pressing into the center of Jack’s heart.

Something seized up inside him then, turning all that hurt into something cold and hard, something much more familiar. After all, Jack didn’t
do
heartache, right? He sure as hell didn’t stick around to pick up the pieces.

“Just make sure and lock the door behind you,” he said. Then he turned and walked in the other direction before he could catch another glimpse of either of them. He was a coward. No amount of righteous indignation could make him forget that one little fact.

The front door slammed and he punched the wall.

* * *

That evening, Jack drove straight from the Hamptons to Mayor Daniels’s discreet downtown apartment. The mayor had left his address on his voice mail, but Jack didn’t need the reminder. After more than a few dinner parties, the route was plenty familiar. Perhaps old Daniels had wanted to make a point with his message. Jack wasn’t the only cock for hire around.

Outside the unassuming brownstone, Jack took an additional moment to calm his nerves. He had a Viagra tucked into his pocket, just in case. It wouldn’t do to go in there unprepared. Not when old horny Daniels was expecting the full service. He laughed and immediately wondered why he had. Nothing was funny about any of this.

“So glad you decided to take me up on the invitation, Jack.” Mayor Daniels struck a gallant pose, ushering him past his personal valet into the dimly lit living room. “Would you like a drink?”

Jack nodded, searching for a place to put his gaze.

“You look tense, Jack,” Daniels said, as he handed him the tumbler of scotch. How he fucking hated scotch. “It’s just us here. You can relax.” The mayor’s fingers floated to Jack’s belt. “I was so looking forward to seeing you.”

Jack shut his eyes and willed himself to go numb. This was as good as it got for him. Sex in exchange for power or favors or just to get off. How could he have thought for one stupid moment that he deserved anything better?

The mayor was on his knees in front of him, where he claimed to be most comfortable. Jack tossed back the scotch and took a fistful of Daniels’s hair. He felt the ginger touch of Daniels’s hand reaching for his zipper.

Frowning, the mayor looked up. “I’d really like to hear you say it. Tell me to suck your cock.”

Jack opened his mouth to speak. An ocean of thick, black tar had taken up residence in his throat.

“I thought you were into this scene, Jack? Don’t tell me I was wrong about you.”

Jack stumbled backward, snatching at his belt and fastening his pants. He could finally breathe, sucking down big gulps of air and making his chest heave. “Yes… No… Fuck it. I’m done with this.”

Daniels got up and retrieved a cigar from the humidor on proud display in the middle of his mahogany coffee table. “Why the hell would you want to be done with such a cushy little arrangement? You give me what I need; I give you those no-bid contracts that keep your business in the black.” He clipped the end of the cigar and placed it in the corner of his mouth. “You’re not stupid. You know a good thing when you see it.”

Jack tore out of the door, taking two steps at a time down the front stairs and onto the sidewalk. People watched with curiosity as he continued to jog down the street.

He did know a good thing when he saw it. That was the fucking problem.

* * *

It took more than a week for the lead forensic engineer the city had lined up to finally get Jack on the phone. She was persistent—he had to give her that.

“Well Jack, if you were any more difficult to reach, I’d have thought you were dead. I was about ready to have a freakin’ séance.” Molly Burton’s voice was unmistakable, the same engineer who had investigated the Port Authority Bus Terminal debacle.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Molly.” Jack made sure to enunciate her name loud enough for his apparently inept temp assistant to hear.

“Oh, it’s not her fault that I got through. I told her that I found your cell phone in a cab.”

He had to laugh. “Sneaky tricks are beneath you, Molly.”

“Thinking you could get away with sending me a boiler plate e-mail for your statement was just plain ridiculous. You know me better than that.”

Jack sighed. “Just get on with it, why don’t you?” It wasn’t that he had any real contempt for the indefatigable Molly Burton. The fact was, he respected her no-bullshit approach. He only wished he’d had more time for the knot in his stomach to ease before she forced him to rehash the details of the accident. If he could have erased the entire memory of that day and everything that followed from it, he would have. Jack swatted the eraser shavings from the sketch he’d been drawing and redrawing all morning.

Molly’s voice softened. “I’m not the enemy, Jack. Not this time at least.”

Jack took a deep breath and told himself she was telling the truth. If she had thought those blasting orders he’d given Spencer were to blame, she would have sent him a registered letter demanding he appear before the city council.

Jack thought back to his first bout with the fifty-something investigative engineer. The Port Authority scandal had only happened a year ago. The memory of it still rankled him. If Jack had just been able to do his job without his greedy father skimming off the top, the renovation would have gone perfectly. Instead Jack had ended up looking like an amateur. By the end of it, Rothman Development had been made to pay a hefty settlement to the city, compensating for nearly a million dollars in lost revenues while making the necessary repairs to the floor.

Essentially his father’s cost-cutting had backfired, resulting in a PR disaster for everyone and a bit more of Jack’s dignity ground to dust. The entire fiasco had been so wholly unnecessary. But Molly’s words gave him hope. If there was a God, maybe he’d spared Jack from the embarrassment of a repeat performance.

“Have you figured out what caused the water main to rupture?”

“I’m still gathering data but I doubt it was the blasting you did. Not directly.”

He sighed, only partly relieved. “But you’re going to torture me with the nitty-gritty details anyway.”

“I’m nothing if not thorough.” She paused. “Jack, I’m surprised you’re still working there.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Listen, I know it’s a family business, which means it’s completely none of mine, but how is it you graduated at the top of your class at Stanford and decided to get on board Jackson’s sinking ship? You could be so much further in your career by now.”

The back of Jack’s neck flamed with anger. In his gut he knew that he wasn’t angry with her, not really. Still, it seemed as good a place as any to throw the venom he felt rising in his throat. “Where do you get off? If you have something particular to ask me I advise you to make it known. Otherwise I’m hanging up and you can take my e-mail and shove—”

“OK, sore spot. I get it,” Molly said with a chuckle.

Jack gritted his teeth. There was no shaking that old battle-ax. One of the few women in a world of men; it was no wonder she had a set of iron balls. “I’m waiting, Molly.”

“Spencer Hartley tells me that you made the first detonation around four. Can you confirm that?”

“You spoke to Spencer already?”

“He was a lot easier to reach. I’ve been leaving you messages since last Thursday.”

Jack realized he’d kill to know how Spencer was doing. Molly was his only connection to him. “The accident really freaked him out. I hope he’s OK.”

“You two were down there for how long?”

“Six hours or so.”

“That would freak anyone out. So it was four o’clock when you blew the first set of explosives. Why blow such a small hole? I mean, the vibration was enough to rip a leak in that rickety old pipe, but it wasn’t enough to blow the seal on that tunnel.”

“We were just checking things out first. I wanted to get a look at the other side of the seal.”

“You are confirming that it was on your orders then?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m glad no one got seriously hurt.”

Jack felt his heart constrict in his chest. She was wrong; people had gotten hurt.

He ran through her questions with a string of yeses and noes, keeping his answers short if not sweet, until he started to feel that if Molly said Spencer’s name one more time he was going to fucking scream. Then, just like that, she thanked him for his time, saying she had everything she needed.

Jack had never been so painfully aware that he had none of what
he
needed.

Why couldn’t he have them? Why? He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Because he was a spineless coward who couldn’t stand up to his father—that was why. Jack had craved his father’s respect and approval for so long that he couldn’t imagine not seeking it, even when the journey seemed endless.

It was close to five o’clock. If he’d had trouble concentrating before, it was going to be damn near impossible to get anything done now. Jack grabbed his suit jacket from the hanger next to his door and grumbled a few words to the temp as he headed to the elevator.

The doors slid open and he nearly collided with Jackson as he stepped out of the car.

“Son, I was just coming to see you.” Jackson stepped back into the elevator with Jack. “Leaving early?”

The overnight courier that frequented their building gave him a polite nod as he maneuvered a hand truck of packages farther to the back to make room. Jack nodded in return and glanced at his father. “I’m not feeling well, Dad.” Leaning on the paneled wall, Jack pressed the lobby button and sighed. “Can it wait?”

Jackson scowled at him. This was a look he usually saved for moments when they were alone. “You need to stop moping around like some kind of spoiled child who lost his favorite plaything, Jack. What kind of example are you setting for your staff?”

Jack’s shoulders straightened and he coughed loudly, glaring at his father. The courier busied himself with the loose tape on a package, shifting his feet uncomfortably. In that second, Jack flew light-years past mortified; he was livid. Jackson, on the other hand, was oblivious.

“I heard from the speaker’s office this morning. Is there a reason the city council is suddenly requiring us to bid on the Forty-Seventh Street fountain project?”

He couldn’t believe his nerve. Or maybe he could—nothing fazed Jack anymore. Either way, he wasn’t about to have this discussion in front of the FedEx guy. “Not now,” Jack said through his grinding teeth.

Jackson removed a cigarette from the pack in his breast pocket and tapped it on the box. He glanced sideways at Jack. “The mayor isn’t returning my calls either. Are we on track, Jack?”

The elevator slowed and stopped on the fifth floor. The courier excused himself past the lethal glare Jack gave his father. The moment the doors closed again, Jack slammed the stop button. An alarm rang out, giving Jackson a start. Jack was undaunted.

He leaned toward his father, tilting his head and looking him dead in the eye. “I want you to listen very closely to what I’m about to say.” His breath was shaky with rage. The years of dirty work, the double-dealing and cover-ups, the yearning for a pat on the back that actually meant something—it all bubbled up like a ball of fire in his chest. He needed to get it out or be incinerated by it. “I am not your fucking puppet. I am done with all of this.”

Jackson shook his head. “We do what we have to in order to keep ahead of the pack, son. I thought I’d at least taught you that.”

“Thanks to you, it’s a lesson I’ve learned over and over.” Jack huffed and watched Jackson fold his arms over his insufferable chest. “Listen, I’m sorry you never felt like you lived up to Granddad’s expectations, but that is not my problem. Your failures are your own. You can not use me to fix the problems you created.”

“My father built this company on his own sweat and tears. He—”

“He would be rolling in his grave.”

Jackson released the emergency stop button and the elevator began its laborious descent. “If you want out, Jack, the door is wide open. Rothman Development will go on without you.”

Jack boiled with rage, counting the floors as they flickered above them. He crushed his jacket in his fist and had one foot between the doors before they had even fully opened. “Or maybe it will got on without
you
,” he mumbled on the way out.

He decided to walk home. It was forty-plus blocks. It would take him two hours, minimum, and give him plenty of time to figure out the rest of his life.

Chapter Fifteen

They called it a grande, but Spencer thought it wasn’t going to be nearly enough to clear the sand out of his eyes that morning. He took a sip of the fancy-man coffee Rory had insisted he try, and studied the headline tucked into the corner section of the newspaper that was folded in his other hand. Three months and they’d both managed to avoid mentioning his name. Even during the union hearing Spencer had been forced to attend, the formal nature of the proceedings had meant all parties involved were only referred to by last name. Mr. Rothman was someone he could pretend he didn’t know. Jack was someone he still wished he’d never met.

Or at least that’s what he kept telling himself.

“I like us riding the train into the city together,” Rory said, taking down the hood of her wool coat. “We’re going to save a fortune on parking.”

“If I have to ride the train, I’m glad it’s with you, babe.” He smiled at her and dabbed at the froth she had on her lip from her latte. “Looking forward to your new internship?”