Chapter Nine

Jax

J CP Corporation, Broadway Avenue, Upper West Side, Manhattan, New York......

"Does your boss know you're playing hooky by coming all the way to New York to see me?" Jax smiled as he showed Ernst Flint, ex-FBI Violent Crime Agent and now the lead investigator at W. Carter Investigations, to the seating area in his luxurious office.

Ernst grunted as he lowered his body into the low bucket chair. "Why you youngsters like these small chairs that you have to bend yourself in two to sit on blows my mind. Just you wait and see. When you get to my age, your creaking joints will make you see the light," he muttered as he stretched out his long legs. "Willow doesn't know I'm here," he responded to Jax's initial question. "Just like she doesn't know you asked me to look into the tenders you lost."

"I assume you found something my team missed?" Jax leaned forward with his elbows pressed on his knees.

"Who was in charge of the investigation?" Ernst slipped easily back into his role as an FBI Investigative Senior Agent.

"The sales director, since he's also the one who put together all the necessary dockets for the tender process. He knows exactly who was involved and their various responsibilities."

"Does he know you lodged a separate forensic investigation apart from the one he did?" His brow furrowed. "Or is it a she ?"

"His name is George Larson, and no, he doesn't."

"So, I can only assume you don't trust him." Ernst nodded as if in agreement. "You were right not to."

Jax was taken aback. Even though he had reached out to Ernst to do an in-depth audit, it wasn't because he didn't trust George. In fact, of all the people who worked on the tenders, he was the last person he would've suspected of being involved with anything on the wrong side of the law. They had been friends since he had opened his startup company. A small, one-office estate agent business catering to selling and buying local properties in Maryland.

Jax had wanted to learn the ropes of the industry in a similar fashion as his father did. Yes, he had money, loads of it, courtesy of the inheritance his grandfather had left him, but he had refused to utilize a cent of it. He wanted to make a name for himself... on his own, without the clout of his family's wealth to back him.

Through sheer determination, he had hit his first million-dollar deal within four months of opening shop. It had been a huge success, and through word of mouth, projects kept rolling in. Within the five years, he was a billionaire with offices across the country, and within another three years, he was supplying every aspect of property development through intercompany divisions, such as architects, construction crews, interior decorators, and event planners, for those who wanted to celebrate opening nights.

"Actually, he's not on my list of suspects. To the contrary." Jax shook his head. "He was my very first employee and before that, a very good friend. I find it hard to believe that he would..."

Jax swallowed the words as a woman's face floated through his mind.

"Mindy Salinger."

"Who's she?" Ernst frowned as he paged through the folder he had brought with him. "I didn't come across that name."

"A woman I was involved with fifteen years ago." Jax ran a hand through his hair. "Fuck, so was George. He dated her a couple of times, but she wasn't interested and started pursuing me. He shrugged it off at the time, so, eventually, we fell in love. George even went out with us to clubs." Jax's expression turned stoic.

"It didn't last. We had an exclusive Dom-sub relationship, but Mindy was an experienced sub who loved the attention of powerful dominants. The day I caught her scening with another Dom and ended up having sex with him was the day I walked away. I never saw her again."

"By choice?"

"Yes. I believe that once you commit to one person, there are no excuses for breaking that bond." He shrugged. "It's also the reason I've never done it again."

"So, you have no idea what happened to her?"

"No. She tried contacting me, but after telling her it was over, I blocked her number and gave instructions that she wasn't allowed in the building."

"So, you don't think it's possible that she reached out to George to get back at you for spurning her all those years ago?"

"George knew how devastated I was when I caught her that day. I don't believe he would side with her, especially since it would jeopardize his career."

"Very well. Then, answer me this. Who would have access to tenders once you've signed off on them?"

"What do you mean by access? There are a number of people working on one tender, so any of them will verify their numbers even after I authorized the final documents."

"I managed to obtain copies of the actual tender documents submitted to the various tender boards, Jax. Every single one of them had been changed to higher values than the ones you supplied me. That was why you lost. Your quotes on the tenders submitted were almost double the others in the pot."

"Someone amended them after I signed off." The force of betrayal settled on his shoulders as realization hit him like a physical blow, stealing the breath from his lungs.

He was known throughout the industry as a well-loved employer, one who went above and beyond to create a workplace that his employees could be truly proud of.

It wasn't just about the competitive salaries or the state-of-the-art facilities. Jax had fostered a culture of mutual respect, open communication, and shared success. He knew the names of his employees' children, celebrated their milestones, and was always the first to lend a helping hand in times of crisis. The company's profit-sharing program, which included generous bonuses and employee stock options, was just one tangible manifestation of his philosophy that when the company thrived, everyone should benefit.

The remarkably low staff turnover was a testament to the loyalty and commitment his approach had inspired. People didn't just work for JCP Corporation; they were part of a family, united in their dedication to the company's success and to each other— which made the current situation all the more devastating. Ernst's gruff voice demanded his attention.

"I'm afraid so. Whether it's George Larson or not, one or more of these eighteen people in this folder is working for the Genolere Mafia Group."

Jax was overcome by a surge of anger rising within him. Clenching his fists, his knuckles turned white as he struggled to maintain his composure. The sense of betrayal was overwhelming, like a toxic fury merging into profound disappointment that someone he had trusted implicitly could be out to harm him and everything he had built.

"Is there anyone that stood out to you as a potential culprit?" The question hung in the air, heavy with implications. Jax felt torn between his desire to trust his team and the harsh reality staring him in the face. The notification of another lost tender, received just before Ernst's arrival, seemed to mock his faith in the team.

"The majority of the people are in senior-level positions with high-income streams. I dug into their personal finances, and no one had money problems. However..." He hesitated briefly. "George Larson opened a bank account in the Caymans a year ago, depositing large amounts of cash on a monthly basis."

"How much?" Jax managed to ask in a strained voice. He suppressed the disappointment rising in him with difficulty, but it was a losing battle. The hurt was too raw, too fresh. Trust was such a fragile commodity. Once broken, it could never be fully recovered. To be betrayed by a man who he classed as one of his best friends cut deep. It was like a punch to the gut, stealing the very breath from his soul. It left him feeling hollow, vulnerable in a way he had never experienced before.

"Deposits vary from a hundred-and-fifty K to three-fifty. The current balance is just over four million dollars."

"It doesn't make sense. He's earned more than that over the years."

"Maybe, but it took him a lot longer to hit a million bucks in the bank."

"I can't believe... George never put that much stock in money, especially since he grew up poor. Yes, it was important to him to achieve stability and earn the kind of money he's making, but he's always been honest to the point of being pedantic. Now, he's siding with criminals? Fuck, it just doesn't make sense."

"I'm still digging. If there's a connection, I'll find it."

"Thank you, Ernst. I'll transfer your fee as—"

"There's no rush. I'm doing this first and foremost because I like you, not for the money. You can pay me once I find something concrete. Besides, I'm on vacation, and I have nothing better to do."

"I built this company on trust and mutual respect, but I refuse to allow one act of betrayal to destroy the lives of everyone who worked just as hard as I did to make it a success." Jax's shoulder slumped. "Whether I want to admit it or not, I believe you already found concrete proof, my friend."

"Yeah, sometimes life's a bitch."

C lub Alpha Cove, David's Island, off the coast of New Rochelle, New York, Long Island Sound...

"Since when do you indulge in scening in the middle of the week?" George asked as he joined Jax, where he sat nursing a drink at the impressive, elevated bar, which sported a glass floor, chrome rails, and vividly illuminated blue lighting.

"It's been a trying month. I need something to take off the edge."

"You look different," George said once he'd ordered and took a sip of his own drink. "What's up?"

"We lost the Hesselman tender."

"Jesus Christ. Not that one, too. I was so sure we'd get it. We hit every aspect of their requirements, and I double-checked every cost aspect." George seemed genuinely upset, and if not for the glimmer in his eyes that Jax had seen too many times of late, he would've believed it was authentic. Now, he wasn't so sure. There was glee to that glint, an unexpected confirmation that Ernst's speculation might be spot on.

"Yeah, so did I." Jax swiveled on the chair and gazed out over the large entertainment area to hide the suspicion he had no doubt was glowing in his eyes.

The atmosphere was one of relaxed companionship, understanding, and mutual respect among the couples present. It wasn't a busy night, at least not yet. It was barely eight, and the majority of members usually only arrived closer to ten.

Not that he had chosen to come here to scene. No, he had a completely different play in mind.

"This was Mindy's favorite club," he drawled as he watched George unobtrusively. The visual start and immediate stiffening of his body was telling. Perhaps he had been naive all these years to believe George had been okay with him and her falling in love. But to go to such an extreme to sink his company after all these years? George wasn't that immature, surely?

"Yeah, you certainly knew how to turn a vanilla woman into a meek submissive," he said with a sharpness to his tone.

"Me turn her? You've got it wrong, George. Mindy was a member of this club two years before we even met. She'd been a sub since she was eighteen years old."

"Bullshit!" George turned on him, his eyes flashing with fury and spitting venom at Jax. "She was innocent. Beautiful and pure. Not a freak who needed to be controlled and whipped."

"I see," Jax said slowly, dragging out the short sentence to fill it with a question that George didn't miss.

He dragged in a deep breath. "Fuck, I don't know why I said that."

"Yeah, it was rather unexpected, especially since you've been a Dom for eighteen years yourself." Jax kept studying him, all too aware of the tumultuous emotions he desperately tried to hide from his gaze. "If memory served, the two of you even scened before she hooked up with me."

" She hooked up with you? It seems your memory is slacking, Jax. Mindy told me how you seduced her, and that's why she walked away from me."

"I'm afraid you've got that wrong. I would never have betrayed our friendship by even touching a woman you dated. I only went out with her months after you told me it was over between you, and you assured me you were okay with it."

"Let's drop it, Jax. It's in the past. None of it matters anymore."

"To the contrary. It seems to bother you to the extent of becoming angry. What the fuck is going on, George?"

"Nothing. Jesus, Jax! Just drop it. I guess I'm just upset because we lost that fucking tender."

"When was the last time you saw Mindy? Did you keep contact over the years?"

George stared at him, and this time, he couldn't keep the fury from throwing daggers at Jax. His voice sounded clipped and strained.

"No, I did not." He chucked down his drink. "I'm going to the dungeon. Maybe there's a sub who needs a proper whipping."

Jax watched him walk away. Whatever was driving George definitely had something to do with Mindy Salinger. He took out his cell phone and sent a brief instruction to Ernst to do an in-depth background check on her and whether she and George had been in contact.

"Now, this is a surprise." The deep, guttural voice drew his attention to the large man appearing by his side.

"I didn't expect to see you here in the middle of the week, Ruark. Long time no see." Jax shook his hand, a smile of genuine pleasure spreading over his face. He had learned true skills and the integrity of being a powerful dominant from this man. He had the utmost respect for him as the revered Chairman of the Global BDSM Forum. He was also known as the king of BDSM in the community. "How are Courtney and the kids?"

"They're doing well, except my wife is like a lost bird with most of our coup leaving the nest to go to private schools in Los Angeles." He waved a hand through the air. "Hence our voyage to the club midweek. I'm trying to get her mind off our empty house."

"I can imagine it must be hard on both of you." Jax winked at him. "On the other hand, it frees you up for more playtime.

"I can't discount that," Ruark said with a wicked glimmer in his eyes. "It gets better the older you are, let me tell you."

"That much I've experienced myself, albeit not with one woman over the past fifteen years."

"Monogamy is a hell of a lot more fun than most people believe, Jax, especially with the right woman. You should give it a shot."

"I intend to." He smirked. "As soon as I can convince a certain pretty blonde who believes she's meant to stay vanilla otherwise."

"It sounds like you've got your work cut out for you. So, by the way, I hear a lot of praise for the opening of the NY Club Decadent Skies in the community."

"It was a huge success. You and Courtney have an open invitation to attend at any time. We have weekend trips and two evening flights every week. Just let me know when, and I'll book your seats."

"We'll definitely take you up on that offer."

"What offer? Don't tell me Ruark is once again receiving preferential treatment?" Quinlan Shaw, a friend of Ruark and a co-owner of Club Alpha Cove, joined them. "Welcome back, Jax." He thumped him on the back. "If you're inviting this old geezer to your club, you better extend me one, too. You know, just to make sure he doesn't pass out up there."

"As if you would be able to keep my ass from hitting the floor if I did," Ruark snorted with amusement lighting up his eyes.

The camaraderie between the two men was palpable and reminded Jax of the relationship he had with his three friends and his cousin Dexter.

"Hell no, my back will go into spasm. I have no intention of catching you, but I will make sure you get to the sick bay for some oxygen."

"Fuck off, Quin. You're the same age as me."

"Yeah, but I carry it so much better than you."

"Ah, there you are. Hi, Jax. So good to see you." Courtney hugged him briefly before catching Ruark's hand. "Come, my Liege. The sex swing is waiting for us."

Jax smiled as Ruark immediately turned to follow his wife's swaying form toward the dungeon.

"You know, for the life of me, I can't figure out what that bastard does with her on that swing, but in all the years, that remains her favorite play time with him." Quinlan smiled at Jax. "So, tell me more about this club in the sky."

"Why don't you come and see for yourself? We're flying to Max's secluded private island this weekend. Takeoff is strictly at midnight from the CyberCo Airline private hangar at the John F. Kennedy International Airport, and we'll be back on Sunday at eight pm."

"Calista and I will definitely be there. Ruark and Courtney, too, I imagine."

"Perfect. I'll book four seats for you."