Chapter 9

Wes

I prefer working at home – the estate or the penthouse – rather than our main headquarters building.

I get more done there.

I am interrupted significantly less.

While being here, I am somehow magically always needed significantly more.

My being here – according to J.T. – is good for office morale.

I’m not entirely sure that’s true and not something he’s simply concocted to guarantee that I don’t backtrack into my preferred reclusive lifestyle.

Especially when he’s not here to properly monitor that I’m getting enough “in public” time.

Tugs of frustration are delivered to my black tie at the same time I bite into my cell, “So, another rejection?”

“Individual venues are allowed to carry our beer per their own respective policies, but at this time, we cannot make a bid for national sponsorship for the major leagues. However, the Wilcox brand-”

“I don’t want our whiskey for sporting events. I want our beer. ”

“I’m aware,” my second in command grumbles back, “but at this time, Wes, it’s not an option. This is one of the drawbacks to any new endeavor.”

An unhappy grunt is all he’s given.

“I’ve got calls in to get meetings with minor league organizations and internationals. We may just need to start there until one of the majors becomes available for doing business. We need to have patience.”

“We need to have reach. ”

“You need to get laid.”

The accusation cracks my jaw.

“You only get this… non-understanding when you haven’t heard the cat purr in a while.”

Airy croaks are all that manage to escape prompting him to arrogantly chuckle.

“ Exactly. ”

“Mr. Wilcox!” Hasty knocks on my office door across the room suddenly occur. “ Mr. Wilcox! ”

“Go find the Morgan brand a viable home.” Ending the call precedes me replying, “ Yes? ”

Zaidee peers her panicking face around the blockade. “Um…you have an emergency call from Hill on line one.”

My brow furrows. “Did he use the word emergency or are you ?”

“He did.”

The transition from sitting on my light gray office couch to hovering over the nearby matching desk on the phone is damn near instant. “ Wilcox. ”

“There’s been an accident,” Hill professionally states causing me to drop my cell. “Involving Bryn.”

“ What?! ” Gripping the office device tighter in my hand occurs at the same time I growl, “ What type of accident?! ”

“According to Connelly-”

“What the fuck do you mean according to Connelly?! Were you not there?”

“I-”

“Why the fuck weren’t you there?!”

“I-”

“You are paid to fucking be there, Hill!”

“I am not allowed on the water transport vehicles, Sir.”

“It happened while she was working?!”

“According to Connelly, she slipped and hit her head resulting in what the attending physician believes may be a concussion.”

“What do you mean may believe?! How do they not know?!”

“They-”

“Why do they not know!?”

“They-”

“When the fuck was this?!”

“We rushed Bryn straight here to the Tellman Medical Center after the boat docked.”

Indecipherable roars reverberate throughout the room.

“She is currently being examined further by the doctor who may want her to get an MRI.”

Additional growls rattle my teeth as I struggle not to snap the receiver in half.

“Connelly is currently the only one allowed in the room-”

“ Why?! ” Lunging pointlessly further is attached to me barking, “ You are a member of her security team! You should be in that room until I can be!”

“Connelly-”

New rumbles of disapproval effortlessly seep loose.

“-is her coworker and according to The Institutes policy listed as an onsite contact during emergencies.”

“ What?! ”

“It’s policy for each member of the pairing to have that direct point of contact according to Connelly. I haven’t had a chance to verify that information but-”

“ I will get that fucking verified . You get your ass outside that fucking room and give me constant information until my arrival. Understood? ”

“Yes, Sir.”

The second I slam the phone down, I shout, “ Zaideeeeee! ”

My assistant scrambles into the room, clearly ready to take whatever action is necessary. “Yes, Mr. Wilcox?”

“Contact personal transport. Tell them I need a vehicle and emergency assistance from here to South Haven.”

“Vehicle?” Her brows scrunch together in surprise. “Not a plane?”

“ What did I say? ”

I still don’t fly.

I can’t.

I can hardly even look at the ones we have in our hangar without hyperventilating.

Do I need to get to Bryn?

Yes.

Am I desperate?

Fuck. Yes.

Will me having a goddamn heart attack or stroke benefit the situation?

No.

But donating generously to emergency departments such as police, fire, and medical permits me such liberties that will allow me to get there in remarkable timing.

“Vehicle!” squeaks Zaidee. “Got it!”

She spins on her heels to exit damn near bumping into a pair of women on their way in.

“Is it true?!” Pham forcefully questions. “Has there really been an accident? Is Bryn really on life support?”

Outrage bumps into bewilderment. “ How the fu- ”

“Tell me it was an accident and not a botched abortion of an affair child,” Evie demands pushing her sunglasses into her untamed hair. “Tell me I am not canceling my day of dying and waxes to deal with something worthy of a telenovela.”

Irateness reaches my vocal cords yet isn’t presented with the opportunity to be released.

“The press is somehow all over this already,” Pham huffs in indignation. “They’re supposedly reporting from outside the hospital she was brought to if she was brought to one. Was she? And if she was, how did they know before we did?! Who told them?! Who is leaking inside information?! And if you knew when they did, why didn’t you immediately call me and the team to get ahead of this?!”

“ Is she pregnant ?” Evie investigates again. “Do these reports that claim this may be history repeating itself with her having a secret child hold any sort of weight?! Even a pea sized amount?! I mean…when did your father have an affair? Or an affair child? Why don’t I have any documentation of that? Where is the documentation for it?!”

“ Enough! ” rushes out of me upon the arrival of Hurst and Holmes who were stationed in the lobby prior to my yelling. “ Not. Another. Word. ”

Both women clamp their mouths shut.

“ I need to get to my fiancée. ” The only thing I pick up off the desk is my cell. “I do not have time to deal with vicious lies or slander. That is what both of you are paid to do.” Moving their direction occurs next. “So, I heavily suggest , you get the hell out of my way, and go do your jobs before you no longer have jobs to do.”