Player - The Elite Part Five Read online

  I’d taken three steps, my boots crunching in the gravel, when I came to an abrupt stop.

  They were gone.

  The protesters—or actors, if my theory about O’Keefe was to be believed—were gone. All that was left of them was their hateful signs and discarded garbage they’d accumulated from the three days they’d been posted outside my museum.

  My elation at seeing the empty walk in front of the warehouse was quickly evaporated by the reason they were likely gone.

  It was day three. Today was the day I was scheduled to meet with O’Keefe, in particular, the day I was supposed to hand over the contract he was blackmailing me into signing. And with it, the keys to my museum and the entire contents.

  The thought turned my stomach but also filled my belly with fire. I stomped the rest of the way, and let myself in through the front doors. The museum was bathed in natural light, but still had an eerie quality, as it was completely empty and dead silent. I locked the front door before starting towards my office at the back of the large warehouse-style space. Even though it was almost time to open up, there was no point in leaving the front doors unlocked. No one would be coming. Not when the museum had been closed for days, thanks to the plane crash and O’Keefe’s efforts to sink the business.

  In my office, I picked up the phone on my desk and dialed Lana’s number. She answered on the second ring, her voice perky and as raring to go as ever. “Mr. Rosen! Good morning!”

  “Hey, Lana. Listen, the protesters are gone from out front. I need you to gather everyone and get them over here for a staff meeting at one. We need to figure out how we’re going to dig out the museum from this bullshit.”

  “Sure thing. I’ll get everyone there on time. One o’clock?”

  “Yes. I have another meeting this morning…” I let my voice trail off. After the FAA agents had revealed their findings the night before, I knew it was time to get serious about bringing a lawyer in to help me navigate the shit storm I was lost in. “Just have everyone here. Order lunch from Carly’s. Use the company card.”

  “Will do,” Lana chirped, and I could picture her scribbling the notes onto her clipboard that she kept glued to her at all times. There had been times I’d wondered if she slept with the damn thing on the pillow beside her. “See you then.”

  I clicked off the call and smiled. She could drive me absolutely insane from time to time—but I had no doubt she could swoop in and help me pick up the pieces. Which was essential if I had a prayer in hell of getting the business back on track.

  If I could find a way to keep the museum…

  God, this lawyer better know his shit.

  I’d made the appointment the night before, based on the recommendation of Frankie, the lady FAA agent that had been at the house. When I’d asked for a name, her partner Gary had gruffly told me that was not up to them to recommend an attorney. He’d told me that they didn’t get involved in that side of things and seemed insulted that I’d even asked. However, when he’d gone ahead to the car, Frankie had pulled me aside and slipped me a business card. She hadn’t said much about it, but I knew she wouldn’t have given me the card without good reason. Especially since she was risking her partner’s wrath by even giving me the contact information.

  With the staff meeting in the works and an hour to kill before I needed to leave for my appointment with the lawyer, I sat at my desk and tried to throw my wavering concentration into checking my emails. Since taking over the museum, I’d built up an impressive list of contacts in the aviation world, and was constantly getting tips and information about upcoming auctions and sales on vintage planes that would be a good fit for my collection.

  And, if there was one thing that would cheer me up, it would be starting the hunt for a new plane.

  However, once the long list of emails loaded, it was nothing but nosy reporters and journalists asking for an interview in regards to the crash. “Great, just what I need,” I muttered to myself, sighing. “More people in my fuckin’ business.”

  I absently began deleting the messages one by one, when a sharp ringing sound pierced the silence. The sound ricocheted around my office and I jolted to my feet, a twinge in my side reminding me that sudden movements still weren’t a good idea. The sound registered as the buzzer at the back door, where trucks would drop off deliveries. Usually airplane parts, boxes or brochures, or random office supplies. Lana always handled these things, so I had no idea what was due to be dropped off, but headed back to open the door to the hangar where things were usually received, since it had the most free space.

  The buzzer rang again. “Fuck, give me a minute,” I growled under my breath.

  I jerked the side door open with my good hand and found myself staring eye to eye with Gary, the FAA agent, and this time, he’d brought a whole pack of buddies with him. “What the hell is this?” I asked him, craning to look past his stocky body, to assess how many others were standing behind him. From the initial count, he had brought along a dozen other agents. Or, at least, I assumed them to all be agents as they were all dressed the same and wore the same jackets. Frankie was among them, and flashed a quiet smile in my direction, before re-locking her jaw in a stern expression that matched those around her.

  They obviously weren’t here for a tour…

  “Mr. Rosen,” Gary said, his clipped tone snapped my attention back to him. “This is a warrant to do a thorough search of the premises as a part of the FBI investigation in regards to the crash.”

  “FBI?” My mouth flopped open. “What the hell do they want?”

  Gary looked annoyed, as though my question was beneath him. “Someone tampered with your fuel lines, Mr. Rosen. There’s no way that was an accident. As we discussed yesterday, someone was trying to harm you, and possibly more than just you, and in the process, a lady died. This has turned into a homicide investigation.”

  “Oh my God…” I raked my casted hand over my hair as the unbroken one still braced the heavy metal door open. “This is insane.”

  “Just let us do our job, Mr. Rosen. We can handle this from here.” He made a move to step past me and I stood aside, holding the door as they all filed in. Only as they were passing through did I realize that some of the jackets had the FAA emblem, while a handful of others were wearing the FBI logo. The group was a fifty-fifty mix from my initial count.

  When they were all inside, they fanned out, not bothering to ask me for the location of anything in particular as they began their search. Gary and Frankie hung back to continue with me. “How long is this going to take?” I asked, looking at Frankie. “I have my entire staff coming in for a meeting this afternoon. This is the first day without a horde of insane protesters at my door and I’d like to get back to work.”

  She opened her mouth to answer, but Gary interjected, taking control away from her. “There’s no set timeline here, Mr. Rosen. It will take as long as it takes. We removed your so-called horde outside to make sure we could get this done as quickly as possible, but there’s no guarantee how long it will take. This is a crime scene, now. This place is to stay closed to anyone other than our team and the FBI agents working with us.”

  My irritation threatened to boil over as I realized that I’d traded a pack of angry protesters for an angrier mess of government officials. “That was you guys? How’d you manage to get rid of the vultures?” I asked, jerking my chin towards the front of the museum.

  Gary smiled. “The FBI can be very…persuasive.”

  I nodded. The protesters probably weren’t getting paid enough to make it worth getting tangled up with the FBI. “All right. Can I go back to my office? I have a meeting in an hour, but I was trying to get some work done in the meantime.”

  Gary nodded. “Well, no. Not until we’re finished with the investigation. And…don’t leave town.”

  “What? You think I did it? Seriously?”

  “I didn’t say that. We have to keep all lines of communication open.”

  “Fine. You’ve got my numb
er.”

  With a nod, Gary and Frankie left to catch up with the other agents and I stalked to the exit. Logically, I knew they were there to help and that I had nothing to fear, because I had nothing to do with the cause behind the crash. I wanted to know who was behind it just as much as they did—although, my gut already had a very clear idea who was responsible—but it annoyed me that my business couldn’t begin to get back on track as they rummaged through every last inch of the place, in search of clues that I’m sure O’Keefe was too crafty to leave behind.

  .

  There was still a good chunk of time before my appointment, so I headed down toward the beach. A little salty air would do me some good to clear my mind before what was bound to be a difficult meeting with the lawyer.

  Chapter Three

  Lance Toffer

  Attorney at Law

  The name was in bold print on the frosted glass door of the small brick building that was a renovated version of a historical house, set in the middle of a row of similar houses, that now served as offices for high level professionals. The town was a forty-minute drive inland from Holiday Cove. I’d never been there before but it was easy enough to follow my GPS system to the address listed on the card that Frankie had given me.

  This was it, sink or swim. In my mind, there were only two ways the meeting could go. The first—and preferable—would be that he could waggle a way around O’Keefe’s threat to myself and my friend Rick, or maybe he could identify a loophole in the contract that would allow me to flip the script on O’Keefe once and for all. Or, worst case scenario, he’d advise me to sell the business and start over, as far away from Holiday Cove as possible. All I knew was, one day I was sitting pretty with the biggest—and most profitable—air museum in the world, and now…I was afraid of losing it. Over what? A stupid fight in a parking lot? Fuck me.

  I exhaled sharply, emptying my lungs, before pulling the door open.

  “Good morning,” a perky brunette with dark glasses greeted me from her seat behind an elegant desk carved from a dark wood and polished to gleaming perfection.

  The receptionist was leaning over, consulting the screen of the expensive looking computer system, when I walked in, and although she straightened quickly, she’d lingered just long enough for me to be able to see down the top of her blue dress. It was nearly impossible to keep my mind from wandering through a half a dozen scenarios, all of which involved her wearing a lot less clothing. But, halfway through the first, a vision of Gemma down on her knees intervened, and threw my imagination back on track.

  I shook my head, dazed by the sudden shift. That’s never happened before…

  “Are you all right?” The woman’s eyebrows creased with concern over her glasses.

  “Yeah. Sorry. Uh, my name is Aaron Rosen. I called last night and made an appointment with Mr. Toffer,” I answered, pulling myself back together, blotting out the warring fantasies in my mind.

  The woman smiled, revealing a row of perfect, white teeth. “Yes, of course. I’m Poppy, Mr. Toffer’s assistant. I’ll let him know you’re here. Would you care for anything while you wait? Coffee? Tea? Sparkling water?”

  I shook my head and held up a hand. “No, but thank you.”

  “Okay.” She bobbed her head and waved at the plush leather seats along one wall. “Feel free to take a seat. It shouldn’t be long. Mr. Toffer is just wrapping up.”

  I nodded and pocketed my good hand as I took a few meandering steps to the middle chair. I absorbed the mix of modern and classic decor. The desk that Poppy had just left looked like something that could have been original to the hundred-plus-year-old house, but then the leather chairs, contemporary artwork on the walls, and the sleek computer system all fell in stark contrast, jarring me from the historic feel of the exterior.

  As I waited, with nothing but some tinkling music in the background to keep my thoughts busy, my anxiety swelled in my chest like a balloon. I wiped my palm on my jeans and briefly wondered if I should have changed into something more professional. My jeans were one of the few pairs I owned that weren’t riddled with holes, but still…considering my surrounding, and the fairly upscale dress of Mr. Toffer’s assistant, I was beginning to feel out of place.

  It was odd to have a constant cloud of worry hanging over my head. I’d gone through my whole life with the chip on my shoulder, a get-what-I-want-no-matter-the-price attitude, and to have that confidence evaporate overnight was like wearing someone else’s skin. Thinking back over the past few days, I realized the only time I truly felt like myself was when I was with Gemma. She unleashed the real version of me—which only added to the intoxicating feeling of being around her. Being with her. It was freeing from all the bullshit that had stacked up against me and had me running scared for the first time in my life.

  Approaching footsteps interrupted my train of thought.

  “Mr. Rosen,” Mr. Toffer’s commanding voice cut into the wild thoughts swirling around my head, saving me from what was starting to feel like a dog chasing its tail. I stood up and extended a hand for his. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise.”

  “Let’s go to my office and chat.”

  I nodded and flicked a glance at Poppy as she waited in the wings, another man in a suit standing beside her, obviously the previous client. I followed Mr. Toffer down the hall and heard retreating footsteps from the other direction and Poppy’s voice as she saw the other client out the front door.

  The hallway was short but led to a large room, that I imagined, had once been the dining room of the old estate. Now, it was decked out with dark hardwood floors, a thick rug, and a desk that matched the one in the lobby area. Mr. Toffer rounded the desk and took his seat in a high backed leather chair and gestured for me to take my pick of the three upholstered seats opposite his. I chose the middle one and sank down, resting my broken arm on the armrest, and used my other hand to fish the folded contract pages from the inside pocket of my leather jacket.

  “First of all, thank you for calling me. I trust that I’ll be able to provide the highest quality assistance to you in this matter and am eager to get started. I don’t like to beat around the bush. So, that being said, my night receptionist is the one who took the message, and while I got the details from her, I’d like to start out by having you explain everything to me.” He rested his hands on the top of his desk at the conclusion of his welcoming spiel, and waited patiently.

  I took a deep breath and launched into the full story, just as I had when explaining things to the FAA agents, but adding in the more colorful details that I’d left out when recounting the events to them. When I wrapped up, I’d covered everything from the first time O’Keefe and I met, the fight in the parking lot, the resulting visit from Talia and him—including the part about me sleeping with Talia—and then the night of the crash and the fallout since then. At the end, I handed him the contract pages that I’d been unintentionally crunching in my grip as the story spilled from my mouth.

  The lawyer took them and pushed on a pair of spectacles that looked nearly identical to the ones I’d seen on Poppy. I briefly wondered if there was something more than just a boss/assistant relationship going on if they’d gone to the same eye glasses shop, but dismissed the thought. First of all, it wasn’t any of my business—I was with Gemma and had no interest in Poppy. And secondly, as long as it didn’t interfere in his representation of my case, it really wasn’t any of my business who he was banging on the side.

  I kept quiet, studying him as he read through the pages of the contract. I watched for any flicker of change in his expression, but he remained steady and unreadable all the way through the last line. Something told me he hadn’t missed a single dot or letter. When he was done, he set the pages in front of him on the desk and dropped the glasses on top. “Well, Mr. Rosen, this is a tangled little web, isn’t it?”

  I let out a nervous bark of laughter. “To say the least…”

  He looked down at the contracts again, a
storm of thoughts brewing in his sharp grey eyes. When he brought them back to meet mine, he smiled slightly. “They don’t give a degree in shit storm maneuvering at Harvard Law, but I consider it something of a specialty. Especially when it comes to dealing with the red tape you’re bound to encounter now that the FAA and FBI are crawling up your ass.”

  His frankness surprised me but flooded me with hope. “So, it’s not a lost cause?”

  “No such thing.” He shook his head. “I do have a few questions for you before I can offer my best advice.”

  “Fire away.”

  “First of all, what do you want to happen? In a perfect world.”

  “I want to keep my museum, but not at the cost of throwing my friend under the bus. If I can’t find a way out of this without hurting Rick, then I’d be willing to walk from the museum, but only if I can keep the planes. The building, while important, is still, at the end of the day, just four walls. It’s the planes and the memorabilia that matters the most. I’m not willing to give that up. Especially not to O’Keefe.” My words gradually turned sharp, until they came out just under a yell.

  Lance didn’t flicker.

  “And, just as a reminder, whatever you tell me doesn’t leave this office. But, I have to ask, what’s your ties to Rick? You’re not tangled up in his smuggling business, are you?”

  I shook my head. “No. I’ve used his charter service before, but all for above board reasons. I’ve never helped him smuggle in anything, but at the same time, I’m not exactly immune since I knew what he was doing was shady as shit.”

  Lance nodded slowly, processing. “It’s possible they could charge you as an accessory, since you knew what was going on, but it’s unlikely. You could plead out in exchange for your testimony if worst came to worst.”