“I’m fine.”

“Did he get to—”

“No, Helen. Well . . . not . . .” She didn’t want to get into all that. Not yet. “It’s so good to hear your voice.”

Helen started to sob. “I never thought I’d hear from you again.”

“That makes two of us.”

“What changed?” Helen sucked in a breath. “Oh, no. No, no, no . . . he found you. Christ, he found you, didn’t he?”

Much as she wanted to deny it, for ten minutes, Erin explained what had happened.

“I’m protected. I have such a strong support system now.”

“Where are you? I want to come see you.”

“I need you to hold off on that. We know Desmond is close by. You coming would give him a new target. Once the police get ahold of him, it will be safe for you to come.”

“I want to see you, safe or not.” Her sister always was more direct than she was.

Instead of encouraging that, she said, “I spoke with Dad.”

“Did he tell you about the stocks?” The change of subject worked.

“He told me everything. It’s like I wasn’t talking to the same man.”

“After you disappeared, I went off on him. Apparently something I said stuck. At first I think he passed me off as being dramatic. Then Desmond got in touch with him and started in on your mental illness. That’s when he realized how serious the issue was. He assured me he was working with private investigators to find you, and then he told me about the stocks.”

“How do you feel about all that?”

“Sis, I’m willing to do some jail time to put a dent in that man. Hitting him in the pocketbook is the least I want to do. But it’s legal and it will hurt, and my babies need me.”

Erin curled into herself on the bed and talked about her niece and nephew for the next hour. By the time she hung up, she was sitting on the floor by an outlet with her cell phone plugged in and talking about Matt and Parker and Colin and everyone. Their conversation jumped back and forth from Desmond, to Erin’s new life, to Helen and her family. In the end Erin promised to check in daily, even with a text, to let her know she was all right.

When she hung up, she realized it was long past time to hit back. And if returning to Chicago was a step in that direction . . . that’s what she needed to do.

But her home wasn’t there any longer. So her return would have a purpose and a round-trip ticket.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Desmond may have been on vacation, but he always checked in. As any good CEO would. He looked in the mirror as he called in to the office. The man staring back looked nothing like him. The normally trimmed beard dangled after only a few days without a trim. He wore a godawful baseball cap, short-sleeved T-shirt, and pants that belonged on someone in the armed forces instead of a boardroom.

He’d found a hiking trail that backed up to the property Maci lived on, and with a pair of binoculars, watched from a charred hillside.

She was never alone.

He nearly caved and hired help to put this problem to rest. Easy to do when you found the seedy side of the block. Only he didn’t trust that the job would get done without implicating him. Then, as evidence that he was right in his desires, the weather forecast devastating winds.

What went better with winds in California than a tossed cigarette on the freeway? Means justifying the end and all that.

For today, he looked past the mess that reflected back at him and promised himself a trip to his tailor when he returned home.

“Good morning, Keller.” See . . . he was a great boss. Even greeted his secretary with pleasant salutations.

“Mr. Brandt. Yes, good morning.”

“How are things stacking up in my absence?”

Desmond listened for ten minutes while Keller rattled on about corporate accounts and a strike in the shipping that came in from China. He had people in every department to deal with all the issues, which he pointed out once Keller stopped rambling.

“Sounds like I’ve got everything under control,” he told Keller.

“Yes, of course you do, Mr. Brandt. I was told to inform you, when you called in, that there is a shareholder meeting scheduled for Friday.”

Desmond rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Right. Well, my business in Greece isn’t over yet. Tell them to reschedule.”

Keller paused. “Uhm, about that. Yes, they told me to inform you that the meeting will go on with or without you, sir.”

Desmond dropped his hand and stared at his reflection. “Who are they?”

“Sir?”

“They . . . who are the they who told you to inform me of anything?”

“Mr. Forrest’s assistant said it came from him.”

Forrest . . . his chief financial officer. “Put me through to him.”

“Yes, sir.”

His call was picked up immediately.

“So you’re not dead.” Forrest didn’t sound happy.

“What the hell is going on there? I leave for a simple vacation and suddenly people are telling me what to do?”

“You’ve been gone for weeks. We’re not Europe. We don’t close down for the season.”

Desmond wasn’t about to be chastised by a man beneath him. “Reschedule the shareholder meeting.”

“I can’t do that. I’m not a shareholder . . . just the CFO.”

“Tell Al to do it.” His VP of operations did most of the legwork and held a small percentage of the company.

“I don’t think that’s going to happen. Al’s been out all week. Some kind of stomach thing.”

“Damn it, Forrest—”

“Before you start cussing at me, I think you might want to know that there aren’t as many names on the list of shareholders as there were six months ago.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Less. You know. People buy and sell every day.”

Desmond’s palms started to itch. “What are you suggesting?”

“I’ve seen this before. Shareholders demand meetings when big changes are coming. I have to know . . . Did you sell out?”

“Sell what? My company? Are you mad?”

“Hey, I had to ask. Someone is forcing this meeting, and if you’re not here to represent, there’s no telling what can happen.”

“This is pissing me off.”

“It’s scaring the senior staff. Some are whispering takeover, and others are looking for new jobs.”

“There’s no damn takeover. I own fifty-one percent of Vertex. It’s business as usual. Tell Al to get back in the office and puke in his private bathroom. I’ll be back by Friday to remind everyone that I own Vertex and if they want to keep their jobs they’d do well to remember that.” He hung up the line. “Fucking hell.”

Austin walked up to the massive dining room table that sat in the front of the house with windows that overlooked the entire property. In his hands was one of the shotguns the Sinclairs owned. He set the gun down and looked up. “I really don’t see the problem. I may only be eighteen, but I do have balls. Parker could outshoot anyone and Erin’s not going quietly. And if that’s not enough, Colin will be home before dark, right?”