Instead, when we give our names to the maître d’ of the ridiculously overpriced, overdone restaurant — seriously, not hating on vegans, but a plate of grass shouldn’t be $53 — they lead us to two unassuming, polished men in suits who are obviously criminals.
But the scary criminals.
The ones in movies who suddenly appear when needed and then immediately vanish the moment their services are concluded. The ones who never actually get in trouble because they’re working for the heroes of the movie, but everything they do is stupidly illegal.
The second man, Rhys, introduces himself as the CEO of the agency that Emerson contacted to track down my blackmailer. He slides a card across the table that reads CONSUMMATE on one side and has a single phone number on the back of it. No explanation of the company, no additional contact information, not even either of their names. I get this feeling that if I looked at another of his cards, that one would have a different number.
“How are you doing this evening, Mr. Sinclair and Ms. Washington?” he asks.
“We’re, umm, we’re fine,” Tilly says, squirming in her seat. She looks to be unnerved by both men.
Which, fair. Rhys, with his short, crisp wedge of copper hair and engaging smile, his smooth manner, is terrifying in his own way. Perhaps because he’s so at ease with the monster next to him.
He gestures to the two available seats at the round table, which already have some sort of unidentifiable spread withwhat are, ostensibly, breadsticks — but I have my doubts — and shot glasses filled with an amber liquid arranged at them. “Please, have a seat.”
I don’t want to have a seat, but I gotta be a gentleman, so I pull Tilly’s chair out for her and do my best to slide it in with one hand while holding onto Donovan.
Rhys snaps his fingers twice, and a high chair materializes next to me. Donovan is a little small for it, but I’m not about to piss this guy off, so I strap him in as best as I can and keep a hand on him.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Rhys says as Leo’s focus goes to Donovan, studying him in a way that’s exactly how I’d expect a robot to study a baby. Like he’s probably not going to hurt him, but he also isn’t sure if Donovan’s quite human.
Yeah, I’m definitely going to keep my hand on Donovan.
“The pleasure is ours,” Tilly rushes out after a beat, like she’s also concerned about Leo’s interest in the baby. “You are . . . the people Emerson hired to handle our email issue?”
Email issue.That’s how everyone refers to it now. If the press has gotten wind of it, they probably think I fell for a Nigerian prince scam, but mostly, no one has cared about all the weirdness surrounding me for the last couple weeks. The Jugs’ rankings have gone down with my injury and the two consecutive losses that happened afterward, so even though they pulled out a win last week, everyone’s mostly just focused on when I’ll be back on the field.
I’m out the next game but hopeful for the following. PT has been kicking my ass, but I meant it when I told the last reporter that I’m going to come back stronger than ever. I’ve been working on a bunch of stuff the last couple weeks, and everything’s been restructured for ‘safer bonuses,’ Coach Keenan calls it.
There’s a big focus on making sure I’m not going to try more dumb shit.
Leo nods in response to Tilly, but he’s still staring at Donovan. He’s nodding to a baby. Fucking weird.
“We appreciate your cooperation and your patience over the matter,” Rhys says as he dips his bread stick-like object into the paste and examines it without actually eating it. “The extended timeline made it more complicated than it would have been if it had been taken care of with the initial complaint, but we were able to track down the culprit.”
“Already?” I blink, shocked. It hasn’t even been two weeks.
Leo shrugs. “I’ve been monitoring the situation since Taylor Reede initially reached out to us in March. We already had a good idea of what was happening?”
“And you didn’t do anything about it?” Tilly blurts out.
I squeeze her hand. These guys are definitely criminals. She passed on everything Emerson had told her, so I have no doubt that the moment this Consummate organization knew it wasn’t getting a paycheck, it had no interest in fighting crime. “Who was it?”
“There were several people involved at various stages, most of whom were independent contractors,” Rhys explains. “Based on our findings, they were employed to handle smaller tasks that didn’t appear to be illegal from their perspectives. Morally questionable at worst. Ultimately, we decided that those players do not pose a risk beyond a cautionary warning from us. They’ll be monitored, I assure you, but you’ll not be hearing from them again.”
Already, I’m exhausted listening to the way this guy talks. “Okay, but who hired them?”
“The primary culprits were two members of the management team and a corporate officer for the hotel. Theyidentified a list of guests most likely to conduct themselves in such a manner that would lend itself to blackmail. They had the cameras installed and encouraged the guests to use the rooms however they wanted, apparently made it clear they needn’t worry over any damages or complaints.”
“Emerson didn’t mention that,” Tilly murmurs.
“No, when Emerson requested an ADA room despite not having any apparent need for it, neither himself nor his wife, the culprits assumed that the second guest in the room was a mistress. It didn’t take much research to figure out who that mistress was.”
That gets Leo to shift his gaze from Donovan to Tilly.
“That’s my wife you’re talking about,” I remind both men sternly.
Considering who these men are, I’m sure they already know the truth behind that is technical at best, but Leo looks me right in the eye with those damn laser beams and says, “Yes, congratulations on the past nuptials.”
