Bad Company (21 page)

“Go around to the other side. You can drop us off in the back.” Kellan pointed. The parking lot was gated, but there was no attendant in the little booth in front. Casey pulled around one end of the building and stopped where Kellan indicated a gray fire door.

“The smokers always leave this door open during the day,” Kellan said as they got out. True enough, there was a newspaper—last week’s
Charming Rag
, actually—holding the door open a crack. They stepped into the bottom of a stairwell. “I’d tell you to remember to look nervous, but I think you’ve got that covered.”

“Kellan, maybe—”

Kellan swung around to face him. “Afraid? Don’t you want your payback for what he did to your family?”

“I don’t know.”

“Liar.”

Kellan led the way upstairs, then down a hall and through doors, and finally stopped in front of a secretary’s post with a wide custom-shaped desk in Brooks Blasts’ gold-flecked crimson.

“Hey, Amanda, right? Tina’s out?”

The woman looked about the age of Nate’s mom, and she did have a harried look as she eyed the blinking phone and a stack of papers and her computer screen.

“Vacation.”

“Right. That most dreaded time of the year, when Dad gets even crankier than usual.”

Damn, Kellan was good. She was already smiling. It was like he was a hypnotist.

“You meet Nate, yet? He’s a new guy in marketing.”

Amanda shook her head, and Nate gave her an entirely unfeigned nervous wave.

“Dad had me go to lunch with him today, and evidently there’s something they’ve got to have and Nate’s the one who has to come get it. You know how Dad is when Tina’s not here to make sure he’s got everything he needs.”

Amanda flicked a sympathetic gaze in Nate’s direction, then held up a finger as she answered the phone. Nate hoped like hell it wasn’t Geoffrey.

“I’m sorry, he’s in a meeting. Can I take a message for you? Oh, Mrs. Brooks, I’m so sorry.”

Kellan grinned and held out a hand for the phone.

“But Kellan’s here.” Amanda handed off the phone.

“Hi, Mom. Thanks for the clothes… Yes, I’m going to talk to him.” Kellan looked at Amanda and signaled for her keys. “That’s up to him… Yeah, Mom, I know.”

The panic making the blood pound in Nate’s ears eased back. Kellan wasn’t completely cut off if his mother was helping him. Nate knew she would. And maybe they would pull this off without getting arrested.

Kellan passed back the phone, and Amanda handed over a set of keys.

Geoffrey Brooks’s office didn’t look any different from any other businessman’s where Nate had conducted interviews. Heavy furniture designed to impress, an inspirational eagle print on one wall, framed citations and photos over the credenza. But after everything that had happened, Nate felt like he was tiptoeing on sleeping alligators.

Kellan went right over to the desk. “This is where he keeps the good stuff. Like his security code isn’t obvious. It’s the last four digits of Keegan’s social security number and the date they got the news. Dad still carries his dog tag.”

A mechanical whir sounded, and Kellan pulled open a file drawer. “Here.” He started putting files on the desk. “You’ve got a camera phone, right?”

“Yeah.” Nate really didn’t want to look in those files.

“C’mon. We don’t have all day.”

Nate flipped open the first one and snapped a picture of each page of the official proposal, before finding the real plans in the next file. Standard shell game. The company was buying the abandoned plant, but they wouldn’t be employing more than fifty people. Only a high-end staff of research and development like Nate’s dad had done for KZ Cola, nothing to justify the job-creation tax breaks Geoffrey was looking for.

“Nate.” Kellan’s voice was a little weird. “Is this that formula? The patent thing?” He handed Nate a file.

Nate didn’t have much of a chemistry background, but he knew what his father had worked on. He’d managed some ethyl bonding to get a better flavor result with fewer parts per million with heliotropin, the stuff that made the company’s cream soda taste so good. But although Nate’s dad had been the one to do all the work, the company got all the credit, so he came up with another one at home.

According to his dad, he’d managed not only to get a creamier feel with the new bonds, but improved the aroma factor of the heliotropin to make people drinking it have enhanced good moods.

Nate knew enough to read that it was the chemical structure his dad had worked on, had seen the molecular diagrams enough in the house. The buzzing in his ears was back, but from pure excitement. This was better proof than anything about the plans for the plant. He could take this back to his dad, they could prove that the former junior marketing executive had stolen his friend’s work and built a billion-dollar corporation out of it.

“Is it?” Kellan asked.

“Yeah. It’s my dad’s.”

“So why is my dad’s name on the patent?” Kellan pointed over Nate’s shoulder.

“Because he fucking stole it.”

“And why didn’t your dad come after him?”

“Wait.” Nate turned through a couple of pages clipped in the file under the patent. “It’s an affidavit, signed by my dad. It swears that he had nothing to do with the creation of Compound E and that all rights are assigned to Geoffrey Brooks as its sole inventor.”

“My dad can barely mix whiskey and soda.”

Nate looked back at the molecule, the description of the compound. “My dad was so pissed at KZ Cola for taking all the credit for that first thing he made.” The realization made his legs feel like buttered noodles, and he had to put his hand on the desk. “He took it and changed it just enough.”

“And gave it to my dad? Why?” Kellan had moved so close Nate could feel the heat from his body, the solid strength of him there.

“Because KZ came after him. And my dad didn’t care about anything but getting back at KZ, so he gave it to your dad.”

“So why didn’t my dad help yours when he lost his job?”

“Because the lawyers and accountants at KZ would have used that to bankrupt us both,” said a voice behind them.

Nate jumped, landing against Kellan, who put a hand on his arm to steady him.

Geoffrey Brooks closed his office door behind him. Nate would have known Kellan’s dad anywhere, tall and broad like his son, with blond hair turned a snowy white.

“And your father would have gone to jail,” Mr. Brooks continued as he walked behind his desk. “Like someone might for breaking and entering, Nathan.” He swept the files into a pile and held out his hand for the one Nate still clutched.

Nate closed it and passed it back.

“If anyone’s going to jail, it’s me.” Kellan faced his father. “I’m the one who broke in here.”

“No, you managed to convince Amanda to give you her keys. If you put half your talents toward something useful—”

“Because helping out other people the way he does isn’t useful?” Nate couldn’t believe he’d dared to interrupt Mr. Brooks.

The way Mr. Brooks looked at him made Nate’s skin itch, but he stood his ground.

“My son and I will discuss that later. Right now, Nathan, you will excuse yourself and consider yourself lucky I don’t press charges.”

“I have something to say first.”

Unlike his son’s green, Mr. Brooks’s eyes were a pale blue, piercing. “I doubt I want to hear it.”

“I owe you an apology, sir. What my father did was wrong, and based on my own conclusions I have given you and your company unfair scrutiny in the paper.” He’d never lied about anything he’d printed, but since his column was opinion, there was a little leeway in his inferences.

Mr. Brooks’s sandy brows arched high. “Unfair scrutiny?”

“If you want me to write a retraction, I will.”

“What I want is to sever any association with you, and for you to sever any with my son.”

“That’s not happening, Dad.”

“If you will excuse us, Nathan?”

“No. If he’s not good enough to be in your presence, neither am I.” Kellan hadn’t moved, still so close that if Nate had been in his usual T-shirt, the hair standing on end on his arms would have reached to Kellan’s sleeve.

“He was good enough to land you in the hospital, I see.” Mr. Brooks nodded at the splint on Kellan’s finger, the ace bandage around his wrist.

“No, a bunch of bigots like you did that.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Both of you. Nathan, you were a bright boy, look at the world and tell me that this is something a father wants for his son.”

Nate’s father had never made him think being gay was something wrong, but he’d never said he was proud of him either. He’d always been wrapped up in the bitter unfairness of his life.

“I don’t know. I’m not a father.”

“And you never will be. At least understand that. Kellan, what have I built this for if not for your children?”

“Being gay doesn’t mean you can’t have kids,” Kellan said.

“And what kind of life is that for them? To be picked on? To learn that the people they think are their parents are unnatural? Why would anyone do that to a child?”

“Why would anyone tell his son he wished he’d never been born?” Nate felt that anger rising in him again, and this time he wasn’t afraid of it.

“Get out of my office.”

“Fine.” Kellan grabbed Nate’s hand.

“Kellan.” Geoffrey Brooks’s voice snapped through the air like a live current, crackling against Nate’s skin. He gripped Kellan’s hand. “Did you know your little bandwagon is funded by grants? I’m sure there are others in the community who would feel uncomfortable about a homosexual having access to all those helpless people. It wouldn’t take much to cut that funding.”

Nate could feel Kellan shrink at his father’s words. He’d already given up one job because of this asshole, he wasn’t losing another, not one he loved.

“You would seriously penalize those same helpless people in rehab centers because you can’t make your adult son do what you want him to do? If you think the paper has been hard on you before, wait until they see this.”

“I’ll have you arrested for burglary.”

A tremor went through Kellan’s hands.

“Great. More publicity. That way everyone in Baltimore, hell, everyone in the country’s going to want to read about the man who took therapy away from brain-damaged kids because he didn’t like who his son was dating.” After giving a reassuring squeeze, Nate held his hands, wrists up, toward Brooks. “Did you call security yet? Can you wait until I get a camera down here?”

Anger was good. Nate had never felt better in his life. And he wasn’t out of control.

“Don’t forget to arrest me too, Dad. I’m the one who let him in.” Kellan held up his wrists.

“Your type has a penchant for drama.” Brooks folded his arms and sighed.

“My type has a penchant for spending their considerable disposable income on products from companies that don’t engage in homophobic practices. You might want to think about that on your profit-and-loss sheets, Mr. Brooks.”

“Fine. If anything happens to the funding for the recreation program, I won’t be responsible. Can I assume the same discretion about these proprietary documents?” Brooks put his hand on the files.

“No,” Kellan said. “You can’t screw with people like that.”

And yesterday Nate would have said the same thing. There was a right and a wrong, and damn anyone who tried to stop him from pointing that out. He’d built his whole life on justifying his father’s integrity, with Geoffrey Brooks as his personal bogeyman. That was all as stable as a sandcastle in a hurricane. His father had wasted his life on petty revenge, and Geoffrey Brooks was only another closed-minded bigot.

Nate had done enough for the greater good. Now he was going to look out for something a little closer to home. Kellan.

“It would take a lot more than you not pulling that grant to sit on a story like this.” Nate smiled. “Kellan shouldn’t have to keep wondering what your next threat will be.”

Brooks appealed to his son. “Kellan, after what happened to your brother—don’t you see I’m only trying to protect you?”

“Then let me be a man, Dad. My own man.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Kellan thought Amanda might be risking her job when she offered to have Shep drop them off somewhere, and he’d probably gotten her in enough trouble already, so he shook his head and hurried to catch up to Nate who was striding down the hall toward the back stairs.

Kellan punched the elevator button. “This way is closer to the street.”

“The sooner I get out of here the better.” Nate and his fucking principles and a long-ass walk for no good reason. Of course, Nate and his fucking principles had just made hash out of Kellan’s dad, so instead of telling Nate to meet him out front, Kellan jogged down the hall after him. Damn, Nate could walk fast when he was pissed.

Nate didn’t say a word, even after they’d cleared the smokers’ door and started through the parking lot.

“You were kick ass, man. Thanks for having my back.”

Nate stopped, glanced at Kellan and then started walking more slowly. “You had mine.”

“Hell of a team.”

Nate led them toward Dundalk Ave. Squinting, Kellan could barely see the bus shelter way down the street.

As they waited at a light, Nate touched his arm. Kellan looked down into eyes so focused and intense he wanted to shiver, because he knew what it was like when Nate turned that loose. Had seen all of him. Loved all of him. Sexy, loyal, angry, funny, and as irritating as that fucking self-righteousness was, Kellan loved that too, because without it, he’d never have had any of this. Not standing up to his dad, or teaching Marisol to sing as a way of talking to her family, or finding out that having Nate’s dick up his ass was guaranteed to make Kellan come harder than he ever thought he could.

He wanted to kiss him, but even he knew that the industrial part of Dundalk was not exactly the place for an outburst of affection.

Nate offered a half smile that didn’t touch the heat in his eyes. “No matter what happened, we’re still friends, right?”

“The ‘what happened’ being sex, right?”

“Yeah.” Nate shifted his case around as he shrugged out of his suit jacket. “I—I was kind of a dick. I should have been a—more supportive listener when you told me about what happened.”