Page 29 of Reeves

My phone vibrates against the bench as I towel off, the screen illuminating in the artificial light.

Ridge's name flashes on my phone screen. I tap the notification, reading his message.

My meeting moved up. Can you come to the office around 1 so we can talk for a bit? I'll have about 2 hours.

I glance at the clock on the wall. 11:17. Plenty of time for twenty more laps before I'd need to head out. My shoulder throbs in disagreement.

Instead of texting back, I hit call. Ridge answers on the second ring.

"I'm at Creston." My voice echoes in the empty pool room. "I can finish my laps and then come in."

"That's right. The pool at Dad's is still out of commission." The background noise tells me he's walking somewhere in the office.

"Yeah. Fucking sucks. Ms. Landry said the pool restoration is behind schedule."

"When isn't it?" A door closes on his end, muffling the office sounds. "Listen, I just had some time open up, and I was wondering if you could come in so we can sit down and actually talk. I feel like every time we try, someone messes it up."

"Sure. I can be there, but I'll be coming straight from here. Don't expect me in a suit."

"God forbid the mighty SEAL operator conform to office standards." The edge in his voice softens with familiar sarcasm. "As long as you're wearing pants, I don't give a shit what you wear."

"No promises on the pants."

Ridge snorts. "Don't be late. My schedule's tight today."

"Roger that." The military acknowledgment slips out before I can catch it.

"Later, asshole." He hangs up before I can respond. Dick.

I toss the phone back on my towel. My shoulder screams for a break, but twenty more laps won't kill me. Pain is just data, that'swhat my BUDS instructor always said. I slide back into the water and push off the wall.

I finish the set and pull myself out of the pool. Water streams down my body, pooling at my feet. The pain in my shoulder has upgraded from complaint to protest. I pop two more pills.

The bunker shower is almost like a spa. Maybe Cain was onto something, and I should be staying here instead of rooming with Ms. Landry.

I'm dressed in five minutes, my hair still damp as I climb the stairs back to the land of the living. The sun is coming down hot today. My shirt sticks to my back before I reach the car.

Traffic crawls through the Garden District, but opens up as I hit the business district.

Stone Intermodal headquarters rises ahead, a gleaming tower of glass and steel overlooking the Mississippi. My father's vision made concrete. Literally. The building casts its shadow over the river, just like he wanted.

I pull into the executive parking garage, the gate recognizing my car automatically. Whatever Ridge needs, it's not just small talk. He doesn't waste time on social niceties. The shoulder pain lingers as I step out of the car, but the swim has steadied me.

Time to step back into the world I left behind.

The security desk flashes my temporary badge with efficient boredom. I nod thanks and head for the elevator bank, watching the crowd part slightly around me. Maybe it's the military posture, or maybe it's the Stone face. Either way, no one makes eye contact.

The elevator whisks me upward, glass walls revealing the sprawling city below. Fifty floors in forty seconds.

Ridge's assistant stands when I step into the reception area. "Mr. Stone, your brother is expecting you."

I follow her through the glass door into Ridge's corner office. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame the Mississippi like a painting.Everything is sleek surfaces and sharp edges. No family photos, no personal touches. Just power made visible.

Ridge rises from behind his desk. "Well, look what the cat dragged in. And on time. I'll be damned."

"Traffic was light." I take a seat across from him, noting how his chair sits higher than mine. Another power move, I'm sure.

"Thanks for coming in." Ridge leans back, lacing his fingers together. "How was the bunker?"