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“He’s fine,” Nick muttered. “I think.”
“You don’t know for sure?”
“I haven’t talked to him in a little while.”
“Why?”
Nick threw up his hands. “I don’t know! He’s busy, or whatever. Can we not talk about that right now? We have other things to focus on. And this is not a date.”
“He hasn’t even been by to see your father?” Owen sounded offended on Nick’s behalf. “What a dick move.”
“You haven’t either,” Nick reminded him.
“I told you I don’t like—”
“Hospitals, yeah. But when he was a kid, he was in the hospital too. Maybe it’s the same for him.”
Owen’s eyes narrowed. “Is that right? Why?”
“He was in—you really don’t know this?”
“No.”
“He was on a train with his parents. It crashed. They died. He didn’t.”
Owen groaned. “Of course that’s what happened. This could absolutely not be any more cliché.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Owen waved his hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter. We’re here. Follow my lead.”
“What? What do you mean follow your lead? Owen, what are you doing? Owen!”
Apparently, following Owen’s lead meant marching right through the front doors of Burke Tower. It was late, and the doors were locked, but that didn’t stop Owen from pulling out a keycard and pressing it against a black box fixed to the outside of the building. A light flashed green, and there was an audible click before one of the glass doors swung open.
Owen walked in.
Nick hesitated.
Then followed.
The floor was shiny and looked expensive. Nick was sure that it hadn’t been designed with purple Chucks in mind.
There was a large fountain in the center of the room, water cascading down a thin sheet of glass. Nick watched as the glass lit up, and Simon Burke’s face appeared in the water. “Welcome to Burke Pharmaceuticals,” he said in a booming voice. “The future begins now.”
“He paid someone six figures to come up with that slogan,” Owen said.
Nick couldn’t comprehend that kind of money. “Seems like he overpaid.”
Owen snorted. “Try telling him that.”
A row of metal detectors stood in the middle of the lobby, darkened. A security guard sat behind a wooden desk on a raised dais. He barely looked older than they did. He arched an eyebrow as they approached. “Mr. Burke,” he said. “You’re here late.” He sat up in his chair, blushing slightly.
“You know how it is, Brett,” Owen said easily. “Dad forgets something in his office, and I have to be the dutiful son and pick it up for him.”
“No rest for the wicked.”
Owen grinned as he leaned forward, elbows on the desk. “You calling me wicked, Brett?”
