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Uncle Brutus:I’ll be there.
With that settled, I direct my driver to take me to Townsend Industries instead of home as I planned.
Then I turn to Brendan.
“Start talking.”
CHAPTER22
Riley
I sit in my car, flipping the computer drive over and over in my hands. This is what Dean Walsh wanted me to speak to his ‘guy’ about. It’s been two days since I returned from my visit with Eve and met up with John, the guy Dean told me about.
We met at some rundown diner where he handed me a thumb drive that I’m to insert into Kyle’s work computer. It’ll copy and download all of his private files. That way Dean and whoever he’s working with can gain access to private data.
For the past two days, I haven’t been able to do it. One because of my mounting guilt. But the other reason is that Kyle hasn’t been in the office yet this week.
As fucked up as everything is, I went into work Monday morning, looking forward to seeing him. Yet, he never showed. And he hasn’t texted or called me since this past Sunday morning. Part of me wonders if that article has something to do with it.
Now, I’m sitting in the parking garage of Townsend Industries, thumb drive in hand, wondering how I can get out of this. Not only have I come to care about Kyle, but a lot of the employees at Townsend Industries. I don’t know if everything Dean believes is true but if it is, and it becomes exposed, the Townsend family won’t be the only ones who suffer.
They employ thousands of people around the world. That has the potential to get really ugly.
Sighing, I run my hand through my hair. I’ve taken one of my migraine pills not too long ago. The stress of everything is getting to me. I typically only get migraines a handful of times a year, thankfully. Within the last month and a half, I’ve had to use my pills more and more to stave off impending migraines.
My phone suddenly rings, jolting me out of my contemplation. I groan at the number on the screen.
I hit the app to record the call right before answering.
“What, Dean?”
“Have you done it yet?” he demands.
I look at the thumb drive. “He’s still out of the office.”
“That’s bullshit,” he seethes. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know.” The truth is, I hate that I don’t know. Kyle didn’t have any work trips on his schedule. When I asked when he would be back in the office, Michael gave me an evasive answer.
“Are you lying to save your boyfriend?”
“What?” I sit up.
“I know about the weekend you two spent together a few weeks ago. I bet he wasn’t just admiring your apartment decor,” he mocks.
“I got sick,” I defend.
He snorts. “I bet. You’ll feel even worse if you don’t put that thumb drive to use by the end of this week. I want it by this weekend.”
“Fine,” I respond. “But that’s it.”
“What are you talking about?’
“If I do this, if I get the information onto this thumb drive, I’m done. You and I are even. You won’t call and demand anything else from me. You’ll throw away any evidence you have against me and leave me alone for the rest of my life.”
Instead of an answer, a cackling laugh comes from the other end of the phone.
“You think this will end? Do you believe that’s your deal to make?”
