Sound of Silence(91)

Morgan doesn't flinch through my diatribe. He jingles the loose change in his pocket and looks bored, so I go on. "He doesn't need your backing, Daddy. This isn't about a mega merger. You both moved forward independently and thought you'd scored the ultimate prize without the other. But only one can win, and Lockman outbid you."

My father's hand trembles a fraction-enough that I know he hears me. "Lockman sold millions and millions worth of weapons to insurgents so he could grow his company, lower the cost of production and offer the government a better deal. One you couldn't compete with. He cut the feet out from under you, Silas. He's expected in the Secretary's office an hour after you leave. He won. He's the king."

Silas grumbles, anger painting his face red and screwing up his mouth. "Not possible!"

"Oh, it is. Trust me. I've been on the receiving end of his treachery. But I've saved you, Dad." I raise my fist not for family victory but irony. Who would have thought I'd ever rescue him? Not me. And I didn't do it out of love or respect, but hate. I hate Morgan Lockman more than my parents, and that's why these dominoes are in play. Morgan sold weapons that in turn killed Justin and countless men, and that injured Caden. And I'm sure that's just the tip of the iceberg. 

"Piper, dear," Lockman drawls. "It's kind of you to bring us together to share the exciting news with Silas about my upcoming billion-dollar deal, but did we really need the grand gesture? I'm a busy man. I thought you asked me here to fuck, and if that's off the table, I'll see myself out. Or did you want dear old Dad to watch?" He slides closer to me, his lip curling up at the corner. "I knew you were kinky, but familial voyeurism?"

My stomach churns as he brushes his nose against my cheek, but I stand my ground. "Did you hear me, Mr. Lockman? The deal is off. You won't be signing papers today."

He tsks his tongue, maneuvering his mouth to my ear. "Nice try. But a little girl can't sit at the table with men. You're not capable of undoing a year's worth of work. You're no one, Piper. No one."

Anger and hatred boil up into a snide grin as my phone rings. I rip it from my clutch and answer, touching the key for the speaker. "Yes?"

"Ms. Stevens, President McKenna." His smooth, thick caramel voice is unmistakable. Everyone has heard him speak on television at the very least, and these two men have been in the same room with him. Lockman's jaw twitches. Silas stares, stunned and silent.

"Mr. President, thank you for calling. Right on time."

He chuckles. "I'm a man of my word. And to confirm our earlier conversation, should Silas Stevens agree to the terms you've set in place, the Secretary will be waiting this afternoon to sign the contract as intended initially. Information was brought to my attention that our leading bid was connected to extremists. I don't negotiate with terrorists. I think my stance on that has been very clear. Good day, Ms. Stevens."

"Thank you, Mr. President."

Cool conviction tugs my mouth into a smile, and I look directly into Morgan's eyes. "Whose table am I sitting at now, Lockman?"

Rage stains his face red as he roars, "You bitch." Before I can step away from his wrath, he has me by the hair. He yanks it back. My heart explodes from his repulsion, and the gun he tugs from behind his suit coat. What the hell?

Caden's face flashes before my eyes. JT. Justin. Lilyfalls, and the future I want more than anything.

Silas stumbles a step forward. He rights himself as Lockman turns us in his direction and grounds out "Don't move" with the pistol trained at my father's chest.

I use Morgan's momentary distraction to lift my stiletto and jam it down on top of his foot as hard as I can. Fueled by years of cool reserve and emotion I was never allowed to vent, anger erupts inside of me. Lockman can't win. Not when I have so much to lose.

I twist from his grip and ram a knee to his groin once, a direct hit. He bellows, and I follow with a swift second that stunts his painful roar. His oily hair is in my fist, so I tug to drag him off balance and grab for his gun. The weight of the weapon transfers to my palm and I step away, my arms held straight in front of me as I back up for better aim at the writhing bastard on the floor. My finger pulls at the trigger already warmed by his hand.

"I should kill you, you weak, underhanded, smarmy son-of-a-bitch," I pant out. A crash and then a crack explode behind me as I work to dismantle the pistol, quick to pull out the bullet cartridge and hold them both above my head in surrender. Caden's gun safety lesson came in handy today.