The Dirty Series 2(155)

Michelle smiles at me, her teeth a brilliant white. “Yes. And it turns out that you were instrumental to us getting the contract. They were very impressed with your work on the prospective designs.”

I smile, but there’s a strange tightness in my face. It’s not that I don’t love where I came from. My parents still live there, when they’re not at their condo in Florida for the winter.

I straighten my back. I’m missing a key piece of information here.

“Is this just another site visit?”

Michelle shakes her head. “We’re going to need you to be there for at least a few days, maybe a week. The owner wants to meet with a representative to finalize the plans. I want you on it.”

I take a deep breath, my stomach knotting. Staying in Lockton for a week increases the chances of running into—

“Thank you so much, Michelle,” I say, trying to keep my voice level. “I know how important this is.”

She beams down at me, like she’s just given me a lifetime achievement award. “I don’t have to tell you that this is a coup for our firm.” Then she glances around and lowers her voice. “Especially because of the potential for further contracts.”

“They have other properties in Lockton?”

“Edison Calley, the owner of the plant—you know him.” It’s a statement, not a question. She’s assuming that I know him because Lockton is a small town, but it’s not like the upper crust ever spent much time schmoozing with firm members of the middle class like my parents, or my sister and I.

“I know of him.”

“He’s really…” She purses her lips, choosing her words carefully. “Maximized his fortune in recent years. He’s got production facilities all over the country.” Michelle gives me a meaningful look. She doesn’t have to say any more.

“Got it. When do I leave?” I’m looking at her, but I’m not really seeing her. Thinking of home makes me think of…him. And everything that happened. His voice cuts into my thoughts. Oh, my God, Sam, what’s happening—can you stop it?

“You’ll head up on Friday for a meet and greet.” She cocks her head to the side. “At maximum, I’d say you’ll be back here next Thursday.” Then she pats my shoulder and steps away, turning her head to say one last thing over her shoulder. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” I say, lamely.

Less than a week.

I should be able to survive this.





Chapter Two





Beckett



“Jacobs! What the hell are you doing in there?”

I pound on the door to the bathroom stall where I know the newest guy on my team is hiding out. The asshole was supposed to be out here ten minutes ago, and everybody’s waiting on him to turn in his lock-out card. We had to stop production late last night and clean off two of the lines, and now they’re back on, the high-pitched whine permeating the entire building. It’s nothing compared to the low, incessant rumble of the kiln. I hear that shit even when I’m not at the plant. Even when I’m fucking dreaming.

He comes out of the stall so fast that he runs into me, stepping toward the sink like a man possessed.

“Jacobs, what the fuck? Did you—”

I catch a glimpse of his face in the mirror, and it’s white as a damn sheet. The water runs, he twists his hands under the stream, and then he rips a length of paper towel from the closest dispenser.

“Are you…deaf?”

He turns around, and the asshole grin dies from my face. Something is seriously wrong with this guy.

“I left my lock-out card up on the catwalk.” The words don’t come easy, and his pale eyes dart from one side of the room to the other. He’s trying his damnedest to look at me, but the only thing he can do is look for an escape route.

“Shit, Jacobs, it’s not the end of the damn world.”

He swallows hard, and that’s when I notice that his hands are trembling around the paper towel. “I can’t go back up there.”

Well, shit.

Dave Jacobs isn’t the kind of guy I would take to be afraid of heights. He’s about my size—he’s just transferring in from the plant downstate—but something has him spooked out of his mind.

I open my mouth to tell him to get over himself, but that look in his eyes stops me.

Right—his wife just had a baby a couple weeks ago. Three weeks, maybe. That’s why he’s here in the first place, because her mom is here and can help out. Looks like he’s been up all night anyway. I might be the world’s worst human being, but I can’t kick him when he’s down.

“Look.” I glance at the clock on the wall and bounce my company-issued ear muffs against my knee. “Stay in here. I’ll get the fucking thing. Which catwalk?”