Mr. CEO(100)

“What are you even saying?” I ask, hot. “What type of monster have you become, Nathan?”

Nathan turns back to me, gives me a studied look, and shakes his head. “You miss my point. I can't go after Katrina, not this time. I found her like you asked, and in the course of my investigation, I found out things... well, I found out things that only she should tell you. The only thing I could give you was an address. But I can't go after her for this. I'll delay, and I'll do what I can, but eventually Peter's going to reach out to someone else as well. I can't stop that.”

I nod and watch Maverick romp around the fields while we talk. “What am I going to do?” I mutter to myself, the mud squelching as we reach a turn in the little path we're following, and Nathan stops. “What can I do?”

“I don't know if you're asking for my advice or just muttering to yourself, but here it is anyway, Jackson. Stand up. Be a man. I saw how you were last night, coming home from seeing her, and don't try to say that you didn't. But she isn't going to be interested in a playboy. If she's going to be interested at all... it's in the man you could be. You're not dumb, even if you pretend to be for whatever reason. So stand up. It's dangerous, but like you said when you approached me before... it's the right thing to do.”

I shove my hands into the pockets of my pants and think. Nathan studies me for a bit, then turns. “Maverick! Let's head back now!”

As the dog goes running by, heading for the stable, Nathan stops next to me. “Don't think too long. I guarantee you, Peter will contact others about this. I've seen him this angry before. You've got a couple of days’ head start. At most.”





Chapter 11





Kat





CDG- You found me again.

BS- This time it wasn't that hard. You practically were advertising your presence online, if you know where to look.

CDG- I had a reason for that.

BS- I see.

I'm in a chat room, one of my hacker rooms, and I close the main window, dropping into just private chat with Blue Sakura, aka Andrea. I've been looking for her today, hoping she can give me insight into how Peter DeLaCoeur is handling the news that hit the Internet today. Unfortunately, with such stuff, I couldn't get the newspapers to put it out, but in this digital world, it should still carry weight.

BS- What are your reasons?

CDG- I was wondering how Peter took the news.

BS- And how would I know that?

CDG- You know who I am. You don't think I don't know who you are?

There's a silence on the screen for a bit, then Blue Sakura comes back.

BS- Okay, let's lay our cards out. It's been a long time since we used to play in my room.

CDG- Yeah, it was fun. You had a pretty awesome Barbie collection. It seems that we've both changed since we thought that Ryan Reynolds was cute.

BS- What do you mean thought? I still do.

CDG- TMI. So how did Peter react?

BS- Your timing is off today. I haven't been home yet, and I had a nine a.m. class. I haven't heard from anyone at home.

CDG- What's got you out so late? It's nearly seven.

BS- Checking some things. Your reappearance had me chasing some stuff down.

CDG- Anything I'd be interested in?

BS- Perhaps. If I figure it out, I'll drop you a message. Peter certainly doesn't trust me, even less than Jackson. Spoils me rotten, wants me to be his little princess, but he doesn't trust me.

CDG- Speaking of that... I have verification on your history, too. I'm holding it in reserve, it's the sort of bomb that could be spun to hurt Peter badly. But maybe you, too?

BS- We can discuss that later. I need to go for now. Thanks.

CDG- For what?

BS- Discretion.

Blue Sakura logs off, and I sit back, sighing. Discretion isn't my strong suit, and I'm no closer to finding out if I'm closer to my goal than I was when I started looking for Andrea online. I want firsthand verification, I need it. The depression is bad tonight, even though I was able to read all about the social reaction to what I'd dropped on Peter DeLaCoeur's lap. My workout wasn't enough to alleviate it, my endorphins were not enough to push it all back, and for some reason, I can't take my pills. I'm sitting here, staring at them in their plastic bottle, and all I can think about is how I made fun of Jackson for his own self-medication. How can I accuse him of running away from reality when I'm taking my own collection of mind-altering stuff?

Angry, I grab my bottle, get up, and shove it into my dresser, out of sight. I'm going to handle this the old-fashioned way, the same way that the old masters advised. Purity is something that cannot be attained except by piling effort upon effort.

Fine. Effort has brought me success. Effort has brought me the ability to bring down Peter DeLaCoeur if I can stay the course. Effort has allowed me to hone myself into the perfect instrument of my vengeance. I can beat this too, dammit.