Her phone erupted against the desk with a violent buzz that sent her heart hammering against her ribs. The screen lit up with a name that made her blood run cold.
Harlan Shoemaker. Her father. Her instinct was to wonder how she’d disappointed him this time.
Riley stared at the phone for three more buzzes, her finger hovering over the screen. Whatever this was about, it wasn't good news. She swiped to answer, her voice carefully neutral. "Yes, sir?"
"Riley."
The single word hit her like a slap. No greeting, no preamble, just her name delivered with the warmth of a morgue drawer slamming shut. In thebackground, she could hear the distant murmur of voices. He was calling from his office, probably between meetings, treating this conversation like another item to check off his list.
"I've been hearing that you're spending an excessive amount of time in the logistics wing." Each word was precisely enunciated, which was the way he spoke to board members he was about to fire. "That'snotwhat you're there for."
Riley straightened in her chair, her free hand clenching into a fist. The irritation that flared in her chest was immediate and familiar—the same response she'd had to his dismissive tone since she was twelve years old and trying to explain why her report card wasn't perfect.
"I'm performing ESG oversight, Dad. Environmental, social, and governance compliance, which is exactly what I'm here for. Reviewing environmental controls includes verifying the storage protocols and ensuring?—"
"Don't." The word cracked like a whip. "Don't quote me your contract like I'm some junior executive who doesn't understand the business. You are there to manage our public image, to glad-hand environmental groups, and write your pretty reports about our carbon footprint. You arenotthere toaudit logistics operations. That's not your expertise, and it's not your department."
The condescension in his voice made her jaw clench so hard her teeth ached. "Dad, if there are inconsistencies in the shipping manifests that could indicate?—"
"Then the proper channels will address them through the appropriate oversight mechanisms." His words came faster now, clipped and final. "And, Riley.”
The pause stretched several heartbeats. She knew that pause. It preceded the verbal equivalent of a surgical strike. She knew his next words were designed to cut deep and leave no room for argument.
"You've been given a very good position. Better than you earned, if I’m being honest. Don't make me regret giving it to you."
The line went dead.
Riley lowered the phone with movements that felt underwater-slow, her pulse thundering so loud in her ears it nearly drowned out the terminal's electronic hum. She turned and looked directly at Mauro, leveling her glare at him. He blinked and then turned away quickly to leave the area. Riley lifted her shoulders with a determination that hadgrown from doubt to suspicion to the cold, precise knowledge that her father was involved in something illegal. She needed help to prove it. The breadcrumbs she had now weren’t good enough.
She picked up her notebook and files and then waved to Marisol as she left the small workstation.
“Everything okay?” Marisol asked.
“Your section is in great shape.” She gave Marisol a wave and headed back to her office. Damn it. Her father calling when she was in logistics meant he knew when she was logged in. Her IT access was compromised.
Her gaze slid to a glass partition behind her. A reflection of Mauro as he exited the section and turned toward the elevators played on the glass. She headed for the stairs. Where was he going? She exited the stairwell and damn near bumped into Mauro.
“Sorry, I was heading to the break room.” Mauro pushed past her.
“You don’t have a break room downstairs?” She turned to look at him, lifting her eyebrows as she stared at him.
His eyes darted around. “Need to borrow some creamer.” He turned quickly and ducked into the small cove where the coffee machine was located.
Riley swallowed hard, her throat feeling raw and tight. Her hands shook slightly as she walked to her office. She sat at her desk until Mauro came of the break room, empty-handed. He glanced at her office and ducked into the stairwell. “I’m not paranoid.” She took out her phone, scrolling past work numbers to the entry she needed.
Talon.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. Once she sent this message, there would be no taking it back. No pretending she hadn't crossed whatever invisible line her father had drawn around the logistics operation.
Riley:I need to talk. This is … important.
She hit send beforeshe could second-guess herself.
The reply came so fast it made her jump.
Talon:Now or later tonight?
Riley stared at the words,her heart still racing. The smart thing would be to wait, go home, let it go, and stop hyping up her concerns. Heck, maybe she could convince herself she was overreacting. But she wasn’t, and if her father had his way, she’d soon be sidelined because she wasn’t going to stop.
