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“We got a package today that you need to see ASAP.” Her tone lost its purr for a hardness I’d never heard from her before.
“New toys?” I joked.
She muttered beneath her breath. “Photos. Lots of them—and they don’t cast EEMM in a good light.”
My brow furrowed, and I started toward the parking lot rather than my next class, feeling more awake than I had in weeks. “Who the fuck is it from, and what do they want?”
“One of Zack’s clients from last month—and he’s demanding two mil, or he’s leaking these images to the press.”
“The fuck did Zack do to him?” I shot out, my blood injected by a rush of adrenaline as I slammed my car door behind me.
“I called you first, so I have no clue what went down,” she said, “but these pictures aren’t good, Sean—at all.”
I roared my car’s engine to life and tore out of the parking lot, quickly calculating the fastest way to Micah’s, which housed EEMM’s office. “Call Zack and have him meet me there. I don’t care where he is or what he’s doing—tell him it’s urgent.”
“Should I get in touch with Micah too?”
My lips pursed for a few seconds as I considered her question, my guts suddenly roiling twice as violently. My brother and his wifey had jetted to some island in the Pacific for one reason or another. “Not yet,” I answered, my voice shaky at the prospect of facing the shit alone—but wanting to prove myself at the same time. “They’re halfway around the world and probably still sleeping.”
“See you soon.” BetsyAnne hung up.
Had I somehow fucked Elite without lube? Had I not vetted Zack properly before hiring him? Checked into the client enough?
“Shit!” I punched my steering wheel.
Zack had been employee of every month ever since Kellen had retired a year earlier. The tall, dark, and quiet man never complained. Got raving reviews. Kept to himself and didn’t cause any drama.
So what the fuck had happened?
The client had pictures, BetsyAnne had stated…something that went against Elite’s contracts. No video recordings were allowed, either.
“Hey, Siri—call the office.” At least my damned voice didn’t shake.
Seconds later, BetsyAnne answered again, her voice smooth as silk as she asked how she could help me.
“What kinds of pictures?” I abruptly cut her off, my patience gone.
My secretary’s heavy exhale tensed my already strung-tight shoulders. “It looks like Zack kicked the shit out of him.”
“No way.” I shook my head, sure I spoke truth. “No fucking way, B. Zack wouldn’t do that.”
“He’s a teddy bear, but the pictures are graphic, the bruises too real to be painted on.”
As a former social media diva who had made good money as a makeup artist, she would know. BetsyAnne had gotten caught in a compromising scandal that lost her the endorsements she’d been blowing through every time a deposit landed in her bank account. She’d been Elite’s gain though.
BetsyAnne liked to talk amongst the employees too, thus my knowledge of her personal life. At least, she didn’t gossip outside the office walls as required by the NDA she’d signed when taking the position.
I’d done my homework before hiring her, checking her background thoroughly as Micah had taught me for every new employee of our company, and I trusted her implicitly.
“I don’t know, Sean.” Her tone worried me. “There’s a grainy picture of Zack holding him up against a wall by his neck—and another image shows bruising exactly where his fingertips gripped the guy’s throat.”
“Fuck!”
“What should I do?” she asked quietly.
“Nothing,” I barked. “And keep your mouth shut—don’t tell a goddamned soul. Not even the other employees.”
“I won’t.”
