Hard Pack (Ridden Hard Book 2) Page 7

  Back at her desk, she’d only been seated for a few minutes when her messenger chimed with a note from Malory.

  Do you have some time? I need to talk to you.

  On my way, Victoria typed, and made her way across the room.

  “Close the door,” Malory said when she arrived.

  Great. Another one of these. Victoria did, then took a seat. “What’s up?”

  “I have more information from Legal about our subpoena’d records. I need you to assure me right now that the entire donation was on the up-and-up as far as you know.”

  “It was.” Victoria didn’t hesitate. A gnawing in her gut didn’t like the direction of the conversation, though.

  “Are you willing to sign an affidavit to that effect?”

  She definitely didn’t care for this. “Absolutely. I’ll do it right now if you want to bring the notary in.”

  “Not yet, but there’s a chance it will come to that.” Malory twirled a tiny strand of hair around her finger, then tugged. “We’re all aware of the unusual circumstances, and since we can’t find anything out of place on paper, we’re being cautious.”

  “Are you putting Mischa through this?”

  “Yes. Given your very public history, we’re covering our bases.”

  “So, we dated once, and it was in the tabloids, and that makes his gesture somehow less genuine?” Victoria let annoyance leak into her words. “Is his job in danger? Is mine?”

  Malory tugged the poor strand harder, pulling out the few hairs. She shook her hand over the trash. “I stand by you if this goes south. You’ve done too much for us to ignore, and you’re sincere about it.”

  “But Mischa?”

  “He’s a good guy. He’ll be good with the kids when the center opens. You didn’t hire him and he doesn’t report to you, so I don’t think what he does for us matters. But it depends on what comes out.”

  “Where did any of this come from?” Victoria wanted someone to answer that question. “I guarantee, as anal as Tristan Hough is with details, everything on that side is as clean as it is on ours.”

  “We deal with things like this all the time. Someone gets pissed off about our cause, and finds a new route to try and get to us. This instance is getting special attention because of the size of the donation, and the unusual circumstances around it.”

  It always came back to that. It wasn’t the first time she wished she had a magic eraser for her past with Mischa, but the impulse was stronger than it had been in a while. No regrets. Right. The past made her who she was. Fucking past. “I get it. Let me know what I can do. Again. Still. I’m happy to sign anything. Have it notarized. Swear on the bible to God and heaven and the all-mighty dollar that this was all business.”

  “I figured you would. Thank you.” Stress still lined Malory’s face.

  Victoria knew the feeling.

  The end of Friday bled into Saturday, and a deluge of new year, new me sentiment.

  She was happy with the her she had. She just wanted some answers.

  Marathoning Awkward and switching between eating pretzels and ice cream, sounded like a great way to spend the couple days of the year.

  Besides, it was an excuse to let her emotions run the gamut, vicariously. Three episodes in, she’d lived someone else’s humiliation, heartbreak, happiness, and grief, and she was fully prepared to keep going.

  Her phone rang, and she glanced at it, ready to swipe decline.

  Ash’s name and picture were on screen. Odd.

  Victoria answered. “Hey.”

  “Hello.” Ash was chipper. “Is now a good time?”

  “Depends on what you’re looking for. I’m not busy, but I’m not up for moving couches or anything.”

  Ash laughed. “It’s nothing like that. We were talking, wondering if we should make plans for tomorrow, that kind of thing.”

  Mischa and Ash making plans? That was far harder to swallow than the fact that they didn’t already have any place to be for New Year’s Eve. “Okay?” Victoria said.

  “We’re going to have a bunch of people over. You should come.”

  Victoria’s brain stalled on a response. The sure that she wanted to spit out refused to be heard.

  “Inviting you was my idea, but Mischa’s okay with it,” Ash assured her.

  Someone was holding her back, Victoria realized. But it wasn’t him. “That’s not it.”

  “Tristan is out of town, so if things are weird between you...”

  There it was. The information she needed, but not the answer she wanted to hear. Or maybe it didn’t have anything to do with Tristan, and she just wasn’t in the mood to put on a mask for a bunch of strangers. “You’re sweet to offer, but I’m good.”

  “All right.” A hint of disappointment was in Ash’s reply. “It’s an open offer, though, if you change your mind.”

  “Thanks.” Victoria disconnected and tossed her phone onto the coffee table.

  An unexpected wave swept through her, knocking her breath away and lingering with loneliness in her head. Her shrink was the one person she could talk to. She’d cut a lot of people out of her life during recovery, and didn’t miss any of them.

  But it did leave a hole she hadn’t filled yet. She could finesse the pants off any donor—literally, she suspected—but she didn’t have any friends she could be herself around. Ash was sincere, but that was awkward, and she didn’t know if Ash would care for the real her.

  Victoria sank back onto the couch, muddled in a loneliness she couldn’t shake. What had happened to her?

  TRISTAN DIDN’T have to be in L.A. until Tuesday, but he needed to get out of town for a little while. Putting himself in a new place might help him adjust his thinking too. Show him an approach to one or more of his issues, that he hadn’t uncovered yet.

  He took the elevator up to the floor his sister’s apartment was on. A week ago had been her first Christmas away from home, because she had to work, and she was feeling homesick. He figured if he was here anyway, he’d drop in and visit.

  A quick text conversation with her yesterday confirmed she didn’t have plans for New Year’s. He’d show her around the city, or get her to do that. They’d get drunk, take a cab home, and he could pass out in her guest bedroom.

  Or he could try and pretend for one night that he wasn’t overprotective, and go back to his own hotel after, in case she wanted to meet someone. Meeting someone, that sounded like a good idea. A fling was the perfect way to take his mind off things, as long as he didn’t turn it into the same situation as the last fling.

  He knocked on Trina’s door, and it swung open just a second later.

  Trina stared at him, eyes wide, before her shock mutated into a smile. “Hey. I didn’t expect you.” She was wearing a blue dress that matched her eyes, hugged her body, and ended much closer to her ass than her knees. Mom would be scandalized.

  “I asked if you were free,” Tristan said.

  “I thought you were being concerned. You should have followed it up with because I’ll be in town.” She opened the door wider.

  Any response he had died in his throat, when he saw Spencer sitting on her couch.

  Tristan tried to put the pieces together, and failed. He’d known Spencer longer than Mischa. They went to the same schools growing up. They didn’t spend as much time together in high school and beyond, mostly because of Tristan’s Olympic training schedule, but he still considered Spencer his oldest, and a best friend.

  “You’re two days early.” Spencer stood and crossed the room to shake his hand and clap him on the shoulder.

  A portion of Tristan’s mind whirred, trying to piece the situation together. There was a huge block in his head keeping him from making sense of it. “And you’re not.”

  Spencer shrugged. “Trina’s part of the crew doing the wiring in the new building. She mentioned she didn’t have plans tonight, I knew you wouldn’t want her going out alone, so I volunteered as chaperon.”

  Made sense. “You h
ave room for one more?”

  “Always, for you.” Trina grabbed her purse. “We’re leaving, unless you want to hang around a little longer.”

  “Nope. Out is good.” He needed to get somewhere that he wouldn’t have to think.

  “What did you have in mind?” Spencer asked.

  “Any place that lets me forget I’m almost forty.”

  Spencer laughed. “Dude, you’ve been going on forty for a couple of decades.”

  “Fuck you too.” Tristan didn’t mind the jab though. At least here there wasn’t any expectation. “I was thinking loud music and dancing.”

  “You were.” Trina stared at him, mouth twisted in disbelief.

  Tristan raised his brows, and she stared back with a matching expression.

  “There’s a club a few blocks from here.” Spencer broke the glaring match. “Exactly what you’re looking for.”

  “I’m in.”

  They were halfway out the door, when Trina’s phone rang. She looked at the screen and scowled. “It’s work.”

  “Tell them to fuck off. You’re not on call,” Spencer said.

  Tristan shook his head. “Take it. We’ll wait.”

  She wandered away as she answered, snippets of her conversation filtered back, but not enough to make out details.

  Tristan turned to Spencer. “You and she aren’t... dating?” The moment he said it, he realized how ridiculous it sounded. This thing with Victoria was getting under his skin more than he realized.

  “Dude, seriously? I remember when she was born.”

  He thought it was funny Spencer played the part of blond, tanned California surfer, when he’d grown up in the same ocean-less, snow-covered mountains as Tristan. It worked for the guy, though. “You’re right.” Tristan chuckled. “My head’s not on straight.”

  They talked a little more about work and the building Spencer was closing on Tuesday, before Trina returned.

  “All settled. We can go.” She lingered a few feet back.

  Tristan resisted the urge to ask her to at least wear a shrug with the off-the-shoulder dress. Poor girl was already about to have her evening hampered with two chaperons.

  Tristan drove his rental, Trina riding with him, as they followed Spencer to the club. The closest parking spots were two blocks away. Tristan wasn’t surprised, given the night.

  There was a cafe next to the bar, and they decided to stop for dinner first. They sat next to a wall shared with the other building, and the thrum of music made conversation stilted. Tristan didn’t have the focus for it that he wanted anyway. His thoughts bounced to the beat, fluctuating between Victoria, their baby, and the subpoena’d paperwork. The problem was, he couldn’t grasp anything long enough to follow the thread to a conclusion.

  He felt bad about imposing himself on the evening, and then not being great company, but Spencer and Trina seemed to hold things up without much input from him.

  They finished eating and headed to the club. The music was loud enough to rattle his teeth, and the strobe of the neon against the dark room hurt his eyes. He couldn’t think.

  It was perfect.

  Trina grabbed his arm and tugged. “Come dance with us.” Even with her shouting, he only heard half her words.

  He shook his head and nodded toward the bar, to indicate that was where he’d be. His joining her would put a cramp in both their evenings. Besides, Spencer would keep an eye on her.

  Why was Tristan here again? He was being a shitty visitor. Dropping in unannounced then shrugging off the company. Fortunately, the grin on Trina’s face and the way she melted into the crowd said it didn’t bother her too much.

  He headed in the other direction, ordered a shot of tequila, and turned to scope the dancers. Bodies writhed against each other, and the potent aroma of perfume, liquor, and body odor seeped into his sinuses.

  Before Ash, he and Mischa spent plenty of nights at local places, but that was a lower-key environment. This was the kind of place he could lose himself for the night. Hook up. Get laid. Not worry about babies or IRS investigations in the morning.

  He nursed his drink, and scanned the faces in the crowd. The thought was there. Hook up. The desire wasn’t. An empty pit gnawed at his chest at the idea of not making a connection.

  Trina dropped onto the stool next to him, cheeks flushed and grin on her face. “Have you moved?”

  “Eh.”

  “You’ve been sitting here for more than an hour. Are you all right?” She had to lean her head next to his to be heard.

  Had he? This sucked. “Just not feeling it, I guess.”

  “Go back to your hotel. You’ll be happier there.”

  “What about you?”

  She nodded at Spencer, who stood a few feet away watching. “I’ve got a bodyguard. He’ll make sure I behave.”

  “I’m sorry.” He squeezed her hand.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  He headed back to his car. Even when he was trying to unwind he couldn’t relax. What the fuck was wrong with him?

  Chapter Nine

  AS FAR AS TRISTAN WAS concerned, few things were sexier than fresh powder with sunlight on it.

  Victoria. Pale eyes. Dangerous curves.

  He shook the thought aside, and in the process pulled his gaze from his office window. On Tuesday, closing on Spencer’s new property had gone well, and that was about the last time this week that Tristan had any focus.

  Every time his mind wandered, it came back to her. Now it was early Friday afternoon, and the only mental task he could manage beyond telling himself not to think about Victoria, was staring at the fresh snow and thinking about skipping out of work early, to hit the slopes.

  Even if he was the kind of person who did that—dropped what he was working on to screw around—he had too much to get done today.

  Do I really?

  He’d send the requested paperwork back to the IRS. With everyone in the office after the holiday, his people were caught up on their tasks.

  Nothing critical looming.

  That didn’t mean he could shirk responsibility. He didn’t even know why he was considering it.

  His email pinged, drawing his attention. It was an automated message from the company who managed his rental properties near the different ski resorts. The weekly report summarized activities for each cabin and condo. He opened the document out of habit and absentmindedly scanned it.

  Cabin 4. The Canyons. Cancellation.

  He grabbed his phone and was dialing before his brain could hop back on the carousel of indecision. He told the property manager not to rent the cabin, he had plans for it. “Yes, for the entire weekend. I’ll take it through Sunday.”

  Then he set his out of office message on his email, and gave Reception a heads-up about where he’d be in case of an emergency. It would be three-thirty by the time he got on the slopes, and they’d be packed. He didn’t care. As long as he could lose himself in the rhythm for a few hours.

  He’d pay good money to come back with solutions to all his recent problems, too. That seemed far less likely.

  A FEW HOURS LATER, face colder and more chapped, and thoughts clearer than they had been in a while, he headed to the parking lot. He stripped off his coat as he walked. It was still in the thirties outside, and his sweatshirt would keep him warm on the drive.

  As he drew closer to the Subaru, he saw a familiar car parked next to his. Someone climbed out to meet him. Even though the sun had set, the parking lot was well lit, catching the auburn highlights in Victoria’s hair.

  At least this time she wasn’t popping into his thoughts randomly.

  He flashed her a wide grin, not feeling the emotion behind it, and opened his hatchback so he could stow his board and gear. “Miss me that much?”

  “You check your messages lately?” Her voice was flat.

  His calm evaporated in a puff of ice. He slammed the rear door on the car. “I don’t do a lot of that on the slopes. How did you know where I was?”


  She followed him to the driver’s seat. “Reception told me. I insisted it was an emergency.”

  “Is it?” He sat in the car, legs hanging out, to take off his boots and pull on sneakers. He’d shed his ski pants once he got to the cabin.

  “Have you checked your messages lately?”

  He stared up at her, mouth drawn in a thin line, not trying to hide his irritation. “Not in the mood.”

  “The IRS notified us today that they feel they have enough information to open a formal investigation. I’m wondering if you got similar news.”

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He was already turning on his phone. Discovery never took only three days. Especially right after a holiday. What did they find? Messages scrolled in. An email from the office letting him know there was important paperwork waiting for him. A voicemail from Mischa asking about a criminal investigation, and another from Victoria with similar news. “And fuck. You came all the way up here to tell me this.”

  “You weren’t answering your phone.”

  “Are you kidding me right now?”

  She shrugged. Or was she shivering? “I want to know how you’re going to handle things on your side.”

  He wanted to give her an asinine answer about how he didn’t have to handle anything, since he hadn’t done anything wrong. Obviously it wouldn’t be that easy. “I don’t know.” Story of his life lately.

  VICTORIA HEARD THE edge in Tristan’s voice. It held a colder bite than the gusts grabbing at her coat. It wasn’t the same kind of abrasive she was used to, though. It didn’t seem to be directed at her.

  “So much for a weekend away.” He fell to the side, his head colliding with his seat.

  She couldn’t ignore the disappointment that hung in his words. “Why?” she asked.

  He looked at her with his brow furrowed, as though he didn’t understand the question. “Because this is critical and needs my attention.” There was the condescension.

  She hadn’t missed it. “You have your laptop with you.”

  “No I don’t.” The answer came too fast, and was too defensive.