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“You couldn’t have done anything to save him, not in the time you had.”
“I know, and if I could have, I wouldn’t have.”
“I don’t blame you.”
I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed to hear those words.
Fox continued, unaware of my revelation. “He didn’t deserve to live. I don’t know if I could have stopped myself from killing him in your position.”
“I thought about it. I might have right after I rescued Rebecca and punched that smug motherfucker that had dared to bargain for her in his face.”
Fox smiled. “Tell me something terrible happened to him.”
“A year after my father died—without being able to disinherit me, I might add—I took the man’s company in a forced buyout after having ruined him.”
Fox raised his glass, and we toasted his demise.
“So even after your father was gone, you kept up your facade,” Fox asked.
“It was the only way to keep control and make the changes I wanted. Several of the executives wanted me out. They said I was far too young and inexperienced to be CEO, and they’d been angling for a takeover for years. I also had to deal with all my father’s contacts, many of whom were as dangerous as the men you eliminate for X. I won’t say my company does all legal business now, but I’ve divested us of any interests that could cause public harm. Extracting a company from that kind of business takes an unfeeling bastard at the helm.”
“No shit. Another?” He pointed to my glass, which still sat empty from before I’d snagged the bottle.
“Fuck yes,” I said, filling my glass.
We kept drinking, both of us trying to act sober as long as we could, which wasn’t much longer for me.
When my phone rang, I was trying to tell Fox more about taking over the asshole’s company, but I couldn’t seem to make the words come out right, and sometimes there were two Foxes in front of me. Fox wasn’t doing much better. He was practically lying on the table, and once, he nearly slid off. I had to save him from falling to the floor. I wasn’t sure either of us could get back up if we ended up there.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and waited for the screen to come into focus.
“Lawson?” I asked, hoping I’d read the name right.
“Mr. Fontaine? Are you drunk?” Lawson asked.
“Nope.” Fox started cracking up, and this time, he did end up on the floor. He managed to pull himself up enough to rest his head on the seat of his chair. I couldn’t hold back my laughter as I watched him.
I barely heard Lawson say, “Yes, you are.”
“Is that really so surprising?” Why did my voice sound like that, almost like I was singing. “You don’t think I’m like a tee… teetotaler because I don’t drink at the office.” He was right to assume that, though. I rarely drank more than a glass or two of wine at dinner or a social function. I had a thing about always being in control.
“You have never been drunk when I’ve called you, no matter what day or time it was. You like control too much.”
Damn, he was good at reading me. “Not tonight I don’t.”
“Hmm. Maybe this mission is good for you after all.”
“No. It’s absolutely not. It’s not good for you either.”
“That’s true. I can’t get you to answer the phone. I can’t get you to answer emails, and there’s a whole lot of things going on here as you know.”
When I thought of all the work piling up, papers filling my office, underlings lined up down the hall, I burst out laughing.
Lawson whistled. “This is going to be great ammunition for future arguments with you.”
“I might get shot at tomorrow,” I informed him.
“Apparently, that won’t be anything new. Supposedly, you can handle yourself, at least if you’re sober.”
“Shouldn’t you be more concerned? If I die, you won’t have a job anymore.”
He sniffed. “Like this place can run without me.”
“You’re the best.”
“I hope you remember that in the morning. Check your fucking email.”
“Yes, sir.” I made a sloppy salute he couldn’t see.
“I can’t decide if I like you like this or if you’re even worse than usual.”
“You know you love me.”
Fox grabbed the phone from my hand. “Don’t get any ideas. He’s mine.”
I sucked in my breath as the cabin began to spin wildly.
I heard Lawson laughing. “You can have him,” he said. “This is absolutely the most entertaining thing I’ve ever experienced.” I managed to get the phone back as he continued. “It’s even better than when Powell got drunk at the Christmas party, stripped down to his underwear, and sang ‘Tomorrow’ from Annie.”
“That was hor-horificable. No, that’s not right. Teribical. Shit. It sucked.”
“But this,” Lawson said. “This is glorious. Don’t ruin it by singing.”
“Go away.”
“Ah, there’s that bossy tone I love so much. Apparently, some things don’t change when you’re drunk.”
