Children of Dynasty (35 page)

The Grant operator was ringing Mariah when the door opened. Swift footsteps crossed the carpet and Davis depressed the button. “I’m not letting you call your girlfriend and warn her. This is going to be a surprise.”

Rory straightened. “Get away from the phone,” he said evenly.

Davis studied him with eyes of obsidian, while he wondered if his father’s obsession with Catharine, rekindled by Mariah’s appearance in the city, had truly sent him over the edge.

Nonetheless, Rory stood his ground and redialed. While the phone rang, he watched his father as though waiting for a lion to spring.

With Grant Development once more on the line, he said, “I’m sorry, I was holding for Mariah Grant and got cut off.”

The receptionist, the young girl whose voice he recognized from the day he’d gone to Grant came back at him. “I checked and she’s in a meeting. They’ve given orders not to be disturbed.”

“This is urgent. Couldn’t you …?” He was talking to a dial tone.

“She’ll know soon enough,” Davis said.

Rory replaced the receiver, tensed for an explosion.

Instead, Davis smiled. “Let’s get over there.” It seemed Rory’s failure to get through to Mariah had him pleased.

Refuse, or go? Walk into Grant like his father’s lackey, or stay here while God knew what went on? There was no good decision. All he knew was he couldn’t stay behind and wonder what was happening. When they got there, he’d try to speak to Mariah alone. Failing that, he’d find a way to let her know he wasn’t behind this.

Rory looked toward the window where the building with Grant’s office was usually visible. Today, it was obscured by black rain streaming down the darkened glass.

Mariah sat at the conference table with her father and a handful of the other Grant managers. He looked exhausted, but had insisted on having his first meeting in weeks before he went home to his recliner.

April Perry pointed out that the morning’s press release from the elevator company would have a negative effect on their already reduced ability to sell properties. Head Counsel Ed Snowden reported that Field’s denial of responsibility was merely spin, and not relevant when a lawsuit was either settled or tried before a jury.

“Andrew Green’s widow has filed suit asking for twenty million dollars.” Ed spoke in his usual laconic manner, but he twisted his silver Cross pen up and down with restless energy.

“And put those adorable fatherless babies on television,” April added dryly, referring to another recent “On The Spot” feature.

Tom Barrett sat stolid and silent. He looked terrible with huge bags beneath his eyes, but despite the crushing blow his son’s loss must be, he’d never mentioned filing suit.

Mariah looked around the room, wondering if Davis’s spy was present. Her eyes lingered on Arnold Benton. Though she hoped she was wrong about Rory’s father engaging in a criminal act, she could not sit by without at least trying to find out.

“April,” she said. “I wonder of you could have the PI look into any potential connection between Davis Campbell and the welder Zaragoza …”

Arnold snorted. “There she goes again, coming up with things that can’t make a difference in our predicament. If you can’t pull together enough money to pay the loans, the only logical thing is to try and sell the entire company to Campbell …”

“What did I tell you this morning?” Mariah said to her father.

John skewered Arnold with a sharp look. “That’s enough.”

She leaned forward, hoping Arnold would further give himself away. Pleading the case for a Campbell buyout was a start.

Tom Barrett shifted in his chair. “Maybe he’s right. If First California would accept a merger agreement between Grant and DCI …”

Mariah stared at Tom. “You can’t be serious.”

Arnold tried again, flushing to the roots of his hair. “He’s right, and so am I. Just because you don’t like the man is no reason not to see what has to be done. Campbell is the only one with both the means and the desire.”

Mariah’s father shot her a despairing glance, drew a long breath, and turned to Arnold. “It has come to my attention that Davis Campbell has someone working for him inside our company.”

Arnold leaped up as if the chair were spring-loaded.

“This spy,” Mariah elaborated, “tipped Campbell about the late loan payments.”

“You know Walker must have done that.”

She went on as though he had not spoken. “In fact, this man — and I have it on good authority that it is a man — could have arranged for the loans to be late. Do you have any idea who might have done that?”

“No!” Arnold shouted. “I’ve told you over and over we were changing software. It was a mistake and you keep blaming me.” He was so agitated Mariah almost believed him.

Turning to John, Arnold pointed at her. “How does she know what Davis Campbell is up to? More nighttime secrets passing from his son to your daughter?” To Mariah, “How do you know he’s telling the truth? Why are you so sure he’s not poured from the same mold as his father?”

Though her father had warned her this would be his response, her hand went to her throat.

“I’m not selling to Campbell,” John told Arnold. “You can assure him of that.”

He spread his hands. “I hardly know the man. Whatever you’re talking about, it wasn’t me.” He gave Mariah a look of pure hatred. “You’re behind this. You’ve never liked me and you’ve turned your father against me.”

It was a convincing performance, but she still believed that if anyone in Grant had turned traitor, it was Arnold. “The other night Dad told you Rory was leaving DCI. You were the only one who could have passed that to Davis yesterday.”

“Me and the six or seven people I told in the company over coffee before eight in the morning. Rory Campbell leaving DCI is big news.” He turned on John, his spine erect. “I’ve never been anything but loyal, but I won’t be accused of lacking integrity. As of today, sir, you have my resignation.”

The conference door opened to admit John’s secretary. When Arnold shoved past her, her composure frayed, her usually porcelain cheeks pink. With a confused glance over her shoulder, she turned her attention back to John. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr. Grant.”

“I gave orders we were not to be.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, “but Davis Campbell is here to see you, and I thought …”

Mariah imagined Davis pushing past reception, intimidating staff all the way down the executive floor, since the managers were all in the conference room.

“Don’t see him, Dad,” she advised, forgetting her vow to call him by name at the office. A confrontation could put him back in the hospital.

John sent a sharp glance at the door Arnold had walked out, and Mariah thought he must also wonder how Davis knew he was at work.

“There’s no sense putting this off.” With his hands on the table edge, John supported himself on the heavy mahogany and got up.

“No, Dad.”

“Bring Campbell to my office,” he ordered.

Davis strode into John’s domain like a conquering general.

Mariah and John posed as if for a family portrait, he in his high-backed leather chair, and she with her hand on his shoulder. It wasn’t business-like, but she had the feeling it was about to get personal.

When she saw Rory, it got damned personal. Only last night, he’d told her he was on her side, bringing information about a spy in Grant. Yet, as soon as she accused his father, Rory stood with him.

Davis moved, catlike, and stopped before the desk. Physically beautiful, with slashing dark brows, straight blade of nose, and lips as full as a youth’s, he was the perfect picture of a man who had lost his humanity. He didn’t reach to shake hands.

John did not rise.

Though watching the two rivals, Mariah saw from the corner of her eye that Rory gestured to attract her attention. Her own hands trembled with rage that he’d come; she lowered them out of sight behind John’s chair back.

“Mariah,” Rory said quietly.

She met his intent gaze. He jerked his head to the side, indicating for her to come to him. Though her heart was thudding at the troubled expression on his face, she stayed where she was with her father.

John looked at up at Davis. “Remember how we used to plan for the day we’d be in business together?” His voice was mild and non-threatening, the last thing Mariah would have expected.

Davis’s expressions had never given her a clue to what thoughts were in his head. Now, for the first time, she saw the mask fall away. His eyes were no longer fathomless, but windows onto a world of pain. He stood motionless, his sharp chin high.

John went on. “We’d sit in that little pub off campus, the Sherwood Forest. Other kids organized the weekend beer bust, but we drew plans on paper napkins. None of them ever got built.”

“Thanks to you,” Davis shot back.

The color drained from John’s face. Mariah wanted to caution him to take it easy, but the two men faced off like mongoose and cobra.

“For God’s sake, why can’t you let it go?” John cried. “She’s been dead for over twenty years.”

“Have you let her go?” Davis’s voice was a handful of gravel thrown and scattered. “You never remarried, because she’s there to remind you.” He fixed on Mariah and she knew he was seeing Catharine.

Davis moved slowly around the desk until he stood a few feet from her. She resisted the urge to run. His hand came up, as if he were unaware of it, and touched her hair. Then he cradled her cheek and looked into her eyes as if searching for something that could never be.

“She’s not there,” Rory said loudly. “See for yourself.”

Davis dropped his hand and turned away. Mariah realized that every muscle in her was drawn taut as a bowstring, and she took a breath.

For another long moment, Davis stood silently.

“Mariah,” Rory said again.

It seemed to galvanize his father. Pulling himself together, Davis reestablished his bravado and turned to John. “I’ve come to buy Grant Development, for the loan payoff plus one million dollars,” he said in a cold and carrying voice.

Mariah gasped, as if she hadn’t known it was coming. “That’s a ridiculous lowball.”

Davis nodded. “I happen to know John’s called everybody else in the industry and I’m the only taker.”

“You learned that and found out Dad was here today because your spy told you,” Mariah said.

“It never hurts to have an inside track,” Davis agreed.

Her rage rose. As long as he was confessing, no, bragging about his power, she would goad him further. “You hired Zaragoza to sabotage the hoist.”

Davis’s dark brows knitted.

“Perhaps you wanted to kill someone at random; maybe you wanted me to die, to quit reminding you of Catharine …”

“You go too far!” He skewered her with a look of hatred. “You aren’t like her at all.”

She nearly stepped back, but stood her ground. “No, I’m my own woman, but ever since you saw me and dredged up your old memories, you’ve been plotting to take us down. You can forget it!” She included Rory in her fury, throwing him a look of defiance.

Davis’s black eyes widened. He took a step toward her.

Rory moved swiftly and put his body between them. “Back away.”

For a long moment, father and son faced each other. Both men were breathing quickly.

Then Davis stood down.

Gathering dignity, he glared at the man who was once his best friend. “The offer on the table for you is a million, to set you up for life. In your present circumstances, you’d better take it.”

An insult, a fire sale, but Mariah feared John would end up doing it. It would allow him some money to retire, and enough for her to make a new start in life. The trouble was she didn’t want to start over. The only dream she’d ever hoped to achieve was being trampled.

John shoved back his chair, and she had to move fast to get out of the way. He was pale, yet determined, with hands clenched into fists. Mariah had visions of the two men slugging it out.

Before she could move, Rory put a hand on the sleeve of both men. “Leave it,” he said sharply to his father. “He’s a sick man.”

John and Davis stared at each other. The silence was so thick Mariah could hear the ticking of a clock on the side credenza.