Page 79 of Shark’s Pride

Chapter Ten

Sebastian

The next few days were quiet. Granted, “quiet” in my world still looked like chaos to most, but not having dead marine life or human beings on my property was my current—and welcome—definition of quiet.

From my penthouse office, I watched Los Angeles wake up and stretch its wings. These moments were still my psyche’s version of a sunrise yoga workout. The mental warrior pose necessary for aligning my goals with my action plans.

Lately, this mental exercise hadn’t just been routine. It was necessary. An affirmation that there were still things in my world I could control. Grant would be up here soon, helping to reconfirm that—sort of my sun salutation stand-in. The guy always centered me on both business and personal footings. Starting my day this way was my proverbial namaste to the universe. The emotional and mental “I see and acknowledge you, world.” Oh—and my written-in footnote: “I’m coming for you, so watch your back.”

The door to my office popped open, and the devil of the hour strode in. Twombley was—unsurprisingly—half dressed. There was an unknotted tie around his neck. He’d draped his suit jacket over his forearm. Crosswise over his chest was the strap of the Louis Vuitton overnight bag I gave him for Christmas. His light hair was still wet from a recent shower.

I battled to suppress a grin, but it got the best of me by the time he set his stuff down on the sofa. “Do I even want to know?” I asked, raising a brow.

“Probably not.” He punctuated with a demonic grin while popping the collar of his dress shirt into the position to tie the tie properly. “On second thought…” He rubbed his unshaven jaw. “Maybe you do. Is Elijah coming to this meeting? And if yes, is he here yet? Because that bastard would definitely enjoy the young lady I just spent the night with.”

I looked at my phone to check the time. “He’ll be here in fifteen minutes. I wanted to talk to you alone first. About some personal shit.”

“Well, of course you did.”

I ignored his comment, continuing the subject at hand. “I’ll be more than grateful if you tell him about your newest ‘friend.’ That means he can shift his attention off mine.”

Grant knotted his tie and raked his fingers through his hair a few times, using my office window as a mirror substitute.

“Coffee?” I offered, making myself one while he changed into his dress shoes. He’d walked in wearing his casual loafers, which he usually kept at the office for jobsite visits or taking the Metro lines around the city.

“Yeah, that sounds great.” He hustled over to the sideboard and joined me in front of the coffee machine. While adding cream and sugar to the cup I’d poured, he stated, “So let’s get to it, then. What’s on your mind, man?”

I took a bite from one of the cranberry scones Abbi had left with yesterday’s delivery. Turned out my girl liked to bake off her stress. While I hated the reason behind it, the pastry was one of the best things I’d ever tasted. “We’ve been like ships passing in the night lately, Twombley.”

“Awww.” Grant grabbed one of the scones too. “I miss you too, honey. But if you want your big-ass building to break ground soon, that’s likely to be the case for the next few weeks, at least.”

“And I appreciate every second of your hard work,” I assured him.

“But you’re digressing.” He stopped to chew his scone in obvious appreciation. “Aren’t you?”

I drew in a defined breath. “A lot’s happened lately…that you don’t know about.”

“Well, you got me now.”

“As you do know, Tawny Mansfield showed up at my house about two weeks ago.” I took a long drag on my coffee, eagerly seizing the chance to organize my thoughts. “Well…a few nights ago, we found her dead in my swimming pool.”

Grant had just taken a taste of his own coffee, and my shocker caused the liquid to go down the wrong way. He choked and sputtered but raised his hand to fend me off when I advanced to smack his back in aid.

“Christ, man.” He looked down at his shirt, inspecting for spatter damage. “You want to give a little heads-up before you drop bombs like that?”

“Because you’re not used to this from me now…why?” I volleyed. And yeah, I guess a better man would’ve apologize for the bad habit—but these days, I was saving my human development moments for the times I had with Abbigail.

“You had Elijah pull the security cam footage, I’m assuming?” he asked then.

“As soon as I knew something wasn’t right,” I concurred. “But the assholes knew how to screw with the feed. They either erased the footage or jammed the cameras.”

“Damn. Are you kidding me? So you don’t have a single video lead?”

“And not a lot of physical evidence from the backyard either.” I grunted. “There was a strong breeze off the canyon that night. And last I checked, piranhas can’t be dusted for fingerprints.”

“Dude.” Grant’s gaze bugged. “Are you shitting me right now? Piranhas?”

I gave myself a warm-up on the java. I wanted to be firing on all cylinders for this conversation. “Wish I were making up even half of this,” I told my friend.