Chapter Forty-Eight

Ben

After my ten o’clock meeting, I grab Braden’s arm while he’s returning to his office.

“We need to talk.”

“I’ve got a lunch meeting in half an hour.”

“Cancel it.”

Braden raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

He doesn’t mean to be rude. He’s reacting because I take this business as seriously as he does, sometimes even more so. He’s confused as to why I’d tell him to cancel a meeting.

“I have to talk to you, Braden, and it can’t wait.”

He cocks his head, raises the eyebrow again, and then rubs his stubbled jawline. “All right. My office.”

We’re silent as we walk together.

“Cancel my lunch meeting,” Braden says to his assistant Claire when we turn the corner of the hallway.

I follow him to his corner office on the opposite side of the top floor as mine. They’re both the same size, but his is decorated in his classic downtown-style flair with large picture windows looking out at Boston.

“What is it?” he asks once his door is closed.

“You’d better sit down.”

“Thanks, but I’ll stand.”

I sigh. “Have it your way.” I run my hands over my head, trying to ease the ache erupting in my brain. “Then I’m going to sit.”

That way I’ll have to actually get up if I change my mind about this.

But no.

No more changing my mind.

I’m laying my fucking cards on the table, and I’m calling. My hand is shitty, but I have no other choice at this point.

If I don’t, Dirk Conrad will never go away.

I plunk my ass down in a chair across from Braden’s large desk.

Here goes nothing.

“Something has come back to bite me in the ass,” I say, “and it’s not pretty, brother.”

“We’ll make it go away, then.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Benji, we’ve got billions at our disposal. Whatever is going on, I promise we can fix it.”

It doesn’t escape my notice that Braden used my childhood nickname. Brady and Benji. He hasn’t used it in at least a decade. He must sense this is bad.

I shake my head. “God, if only…”

Braden takes a seat next to me. Next to me, not behind his desk. Guess he decided to sit after all.

“I’m your brother. Spill it, and I’ll take care of it.”

“Braden, if that were the case, I could have taken care of it myself.”

I could have, and I thought about it. I could have hired someone to off Dirk Conrad. But that makes me guiltier.

I didn’t kill anyone all those years ago, but if I have Dirk offed? Then I may as well have plunged a knife into a chest same as he did.

“Bray, do you remember back in the day, during my senior year of high school, when I didn’t show up to work one day after school?”

He wrinkles his brow. “No.”

“You read me the fucking riot act. How can you not remember?”

“I read you the fucking riot act a lot back then, Ben. How am I supposed to remember each specific time?”

He’s not wrong. “All right. Here’s what happened. Fuck.” I sink my head into my hands. “I can’t believe I have to tell you this after all these years.”

“Tell me, and we’ll fix it.”

“God, I wish you could.”

“I can. But not if you don’t tell me.”

I look down at my lap, clasp my hands together. Then I look up, meeting my brother’s blue gaze. There’s care in his eyes. He thinks he can fix this.

He’s wrong.

“I got in with some bad guys at school. Only one time, but I was sick and tired of working all the time. Never having a minute to myself or a penny to spend on myself. So I met these guys after school one day, and they wanted to rob the convenience store.”

“For God’s sake, Ben. You robbed a convenience store?”

I shake my head. “I wish.”

“Fuck. What happened?”

“They wanted to rob a store that’s open twenty-four-seven and only holds about a grand in cash. It was a stupid idea.”

“True that. Good for you.”

“Not so good for me.” I draw in a breath, determined to just spill everything quickly. “Remember that small warehouse Dad used to do business with? The one we had a hunch was dealing in stolen goods?”

“Yeah…” Braden says slowly.

“I was on an errand for Dad one day, and I found a stash of about fifty grand hidden there. I left it, of course. To this day, I don’t know who it belonged to. The owner, one of the workers, I have no fucking clue. Anyway, I knew the code—”

“How the fuck did you know the code?”

“Ansel was closing one day when I left with supplies, and I saw him punch it in.”

“And you memorized it?”

“I couldn’t help it. You know I have one of those memories. I swear it’s a curse.”

And it is. I remember every detail of that night. Every excruciating detail of the following several weeks when the search was on for that convict who escaped, whose photo I recognized. Whose fate I knew.

I spill it all to my brother.

The break in. The theft. The murder. Everything.

“You pulled out the guy’s teeth?” Braden says, his eyes wide.

“Hell, no! I didn’t. Jerry Thompson did.” A chill runs down my spine. “He knew exactly what to do. It was psychotic.”

“So you didn’t do anything.”

“Not exactly true. It was my tarp we wrapped the body in, my truck we used to transport it to the bay.”

“And no one saw you?”

“Jerry again. He knew exactly where to go,” I say.

“Fuck.” Braden rubs his jawline. “No wonder he’s doing time.”

“I know. Anyway, the next day the news came on and showed that dude’s mug shot, and I recognized him.”

“How’d he get in the warehouse?”

“I have no clue. My gut tells me he got in during the day and hid. Whether he was going to use it as a hiding place or he was going to rob it, I have no idea. He could have known about it on the inside if he was dealing in stolen goods.”

Braden nods. Keeps nodding.

I wait.

I wait for him to blow.

Then I realize he won’t. Not Braden Black. Not the master of control.

Minutes tick by. Minutes that seem like hours. Until—

“This was fifteen years ago, Benji. Why are you telling me now?”

I press my lips together. “Because Dirk Conrad got in touch with me three months ago. Asked for cash. I told him to fuck off, and he did. Or so I thought. Now he’s back.”

“And he wants more cash?”

“Ten million,” I say, “and he seems willing to go down with me if I don’t pay.”

“So we pay him,” Braden says.

I drop my mouth open. “Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”

“Don’t for a minute think I’m happy about this,” he says. “But it’s pennies to us, and—”

“And he’ll come back for more. He’ll want fifty next time. Then a hundred. It won’t stop, Bray. If we give him an inch, he’ll take a mile.” I shake my head vehemently. “No. That’s not how I want to handle this.”

“If the guy’s got a tooth—” Braden holds up the tooth on the chain I gave him.

“He doesn’t have it. We have it. And it means nothing if there’s no DNA on file to match it.”

“But the guy was a con. His DNA is on file somewhere.”

I sigh. “I know.”

“If we don’t pay him off and this gets to the media—”

“I know. So here’s what I want to do.” I run my fingers through my hair. “I’ve gone over and over this in my head, and there’s only one way to deal with it, especially now that Tessa’s involved.”

“Wait, wait, wait… How is Tessa involved?”

“Dirk’s brother David is a few years younger. He was a bartender in Jamaica.”

“The one with the light brown hair? Light brown eyes?”

“Yeah. I had him fired because he said some nasty things about her. Anyway, he wants Tessa, and Dirk somehow found out about Garrett Ramirez as well. So now that’s part of the deal. Not only do I have to pay up, but I’m supposed to get Tessa to drop all the charges against Garrett.”

“Oh, hell, no.”

“Exactly.”

Braden shakes his head. “Fuck.”

“I know. So I’m…” I draw in a breath. “I’m going to the DA, Bray. I’m going to confess, tell the whole truth. I’m no killer. That’s on Dirk. But I was there, and I helped hide the body. That’s on me.”

“Unless they find the body…”

“I know, and it’s long gone by now. No body, no charges. But we can get Dirk on blackmail. The problem is the news, Bray. It’s going to fuck us up.”

“Jesus fuck, Benji.”

“So as of now, I’m—”

Braden’s phone rings. “It’s Claire. She wouldn’t interrupt unless it was important.”

I’m not sure what could be more important right now, but I nod to my brother.

“Yes?” he says into the phone.

Pause.

“Really? And you haven’t heard anything?”

Pause.

“I’m on it. Thank you, Claire.”

“What’s that about?” I ask.

Braden rubs his forehead. “Tessa didn’t come in to work this morning.”

My heart drops. “What?”

“She didn’t report to work, and she didn’t call in.”

“I’ve got security on her. I ordered it yesterday.”

“Good thinking, but I bet they haven’t deployed anyone yet.”

“Fuck.” I stand. “I’m going over to her place.”

“I’m right behind you,” he says, “and I’m calling the cops.”