The Darkness hp-5 Read online

  The dead man’s body slid to the floor, leaving a grotesque red trail from the gaping wound in his skull.

  Morgan recoiled, nearly tipping back in his seat, and when he righted himself he shivered when he realized that the conference room was dead quiet. The eyes that had bugged out of their sockets were now growing accustomed to the violence that had just taken place. The heads slowly began to swivel from the body back to Leonard.

  He watched them do this, a look of apathy, a look of simple that’s what happens on his face. Morgan recognized that face. He knew the emotions. He couldn’t help but smile when he realized who it reminded him of. His old boss.

  “There will be no dissent,” Leonard said. “There will be no second-guessing, and there will be no turning back.

  Every one of you came here for one reason, and that’s to regain some of the respect you had for yourselves. Jeremy did not have this self-respect, and now he’s dead. But before you start thinking to yourselves that I’m some kind of monster, let me tell you that if Jeremy had stayed, like every one of you is going to stay, you will make every penny you did at your old jobs. There will be no layoffs, no cutbacks, no downsizing. If anything, your earnings will grow at a faster rate than they ever could while you sat in some wretched cubicle or soulless office. We will be introducing a new product in the next few days that promises to help you erase all those debts. Keep making those mortgage payments. Keep driving that Lexus, keep that sweet Russian girlfriend who wants to spend five grand a month at Chanel. You’ll have all of that-and enough just in case you want to throw a dime on the football games on Sunday. Now, you can either take Jeremy’s way out, the coward’s way out, or you can get back to work and stay the man you were supposed to be. So, men, are you in, or are you worthless?”

  Morgan stood up. He felt a surge of energy through his veins, his skin felt like it was on fire. “I’m in,” he said.

  Within seconds, every other man in the room stood up and joined him. Leonard’s eyes met each recruit as they pledged to be a part of this. Morgan looked at each one of them, silently bet himself that he would outearn each and every one of them. And he knew from the way their eyes met his that they were thinking the exact same thing.

  Morgan Isaacs smiled.

  Let the games begin.

  “No second chances,” Leonard said. “I’ll see the rest of you on Monday.”

  21

  Amanda had just settled down on Henry’s couch with a glass of Pinot Noir, and the first sip tasted better than anything she’d eaten in weeks. She’d skipped dinner, but hell, wine had nutrients, didn’t it?

  It had been one of those days that never wanted to end.

  Her feet felt like they’d been trapped inside thimbles and she needed something to take the edge off. She’d been with a client at the office until nearly eight o’clock, and

  Amanda had come to the pretty secure conclusion that humans were not meant to wear high heels for twelve straight hours. So by the time she got to his place, weary, weak, her dogs barking like nobody’s business, she wrenched that cork from the bottle faster than Pamela

  Anderson dropped her drawers around a rock star.

  And while all those excuses were reason enough to have a drink-whether or not she continued with the bottle depended on several factors-another reason was Henry.

  Things were going well. They’d endured more rocky periods in their relationship than the next twenty couples combined, and she fully believed they’d come out stronger than ever. She never doubted his love for her. Even when that brain of his got in the way, which it often did, she knew it was only because he could be torn between the right thing to do and the smart thing to do. It still surprised her how rarely those two choices were one and the same.

  Still, she’d learned a long time ago that trying to change him was not only impossible, but defeated the purpose and would undermine their entire relationship.

  Henry was relentless. That was the bottom line, and God did she love him for it. As much as her heart pounded during the times where he scared her half to death with his latest bit of reckless behavior, it was that full throttle stopatnothingishness that made him a great reporter and a great partner. Sure he did stupid stuff. He was a guy; that was embedded in the DNA.

  For every time he brought home flowers, he would leave his underwear hanging from the bedpost. For every time he said “I love you,” he would chew with his mouth open. But that’s what made them so great. He wasn’t fake and didn’t pretend to be perfect. Amanda had met plenty of guys who did everything right: held the door open for her, pulled her chair out at dinner, chewed with their mouth closed. But these men were nothing but painters, carpenters, covering up holes in the frame with pretty wallpaper or a fresh coat of paint. Eventually the hole would reveal the truth, and the facade would crumble. With Henry there was none of that. He wore his holes proudly.

  Still, she wondered when they might take the next step.

  Amanda was never one of those girls who dreamed about her wedding when she was six. She didn’t name her unborn children, or buy Modern Bride magazine. If love came, she would deal with it then. For years, love to Amanda was like taxes. You only thought about it when you had to.

  Yet Henry had changed that. Every so often she would think about what he would look like in a tuxedo, and thought about who would be her maid of honor. She caught herself smiling at things she once found cheesy, and more than once had felt that terror-and joy-filled moment of anticipation when she thought he might pop the question.

  Yet she didn’t want to rush him. Or rush herself. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to commit, and wanted to make that decision when the time came.

  Still, it felt nice to think about it. If only once in a while.

  Amanda heard someone jiggling the doorknob. She stood up, glass in hand, and watched as Henry entered the apartment. His sport jacket was rumpled, slacks dirty around the cuffs. There seemed to be some sort of dirt or substance, something gray and ashy on his lapels. He saw her and smiled, and that was enough to make her smile, too.

  “Hey, hon,” he said, dropping his briefcase on the floor and joining her. She felt his arms wrap around her, and she hugged him back. “You smell like tannins.”

  She held up the glass of Pinot. “Got started early. That kind of day, you know?”

  “Do I know.” He went into the kitchen and took out a glass. Not a wine goblet, but a regular drinking glass.

  Then he went over to the dining room table where she’d put a stopper in the open bottle. He wrenched out the plug and filled his glass up nearly three-quarters of the way.

  Then Amanda watched in both horror and admiration as he downed the entire thing in one gulp. But when he went back for a refill, that’s when she stepped in and took the bottle.

  “Let’s talk first,” she said. “That first glass was enough to knock you out.”

  He looked at her, then back at the bottle, debating whether it was worth arguing over. Eventually he nodded and went over to the couch, plopping down and emitting a deep sigh as he plunged his head into the soft leather.

  “So,” he said, his eyeballs straining to see her from his position. “Tell me about your day.”

  “The Morgansterns were in today. They’ve been trying to keep custody of their adopted daughter for the past few months. The birth mother was a crack addict, and her daughter was taken away from her after she left her in an alley wrapped in newspaper. Apparently the mother managed to clean herself up, get a job, and most importantly marry a man with enough money to make a go at challenging for custody. It’s going to be long and it’s going to be ugly.”

  “Do you think you can win?” Henry asked.

  “I hope so. The adoptive parents deserve to keep the girl. The mother…she might have cleaned up, but there are certain people who you know aren’t good parents. I’ve met her twice, and neither time did she look me in the eye.

  Her husband does all the talking. She stands there, hands folded across h
er lap, like she’s almost embarrassed.”

  “You think he’s pressuring her to try and get the daughter back.”

  “That’s what I think.”

  “Yeah,” Henry said. “You’re gonna win.”

  Amanda smiled. Moved over to Henry, clasped his hand, leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  “You think so?”

  “I know so.”

  “Thanks, babe,” Amanda said, moving back to talking distance. “So how was your day? Any good stories? Jack keeping you on your toes?”

  Henry looked at her, and immediately Amanda felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her smile disappeared. She’d seen that look before.

  “There was an explosion today, on Park Avenue. An apartment…”

  “Some lawyer, right?”

  “That’s right. Brett Kaiser.”

  “I saw that on the news. Terrible. The police are saying they think somebody murdered him.”

  Henry looked at her. “I was there.”

  Amanda recoiled slightly. “Wait, what?” she said, incredulous. “What do you mean you were there? Like, when the news crews came after the explosion?”

  “I mean I was at the explosion. At Brett Kaiser’s apartment building. Kaiser was tied into the story Jack and I have been chasing, and I was at his building trying to get some comments from him. When he left me, he went upstairs to his apartment, and a minute or two later everything just erupted.”

  “Oh my God,” Amanda said. She held her hands to her heart, her mouth hanging open, dry. “Oh my God, Henry, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” he said. “A little ringing in my ears, but it’s going away.”

  “You were…there?” she said. He didn’t say anything.

  Then Amanda wiped at his lapel, her hand coming away with gray dust. “Is this…”

  “Christ,” Henry said, jerking up and going into the bathroom. She heard the water running, and a few minutes later Henry came back out wearing shorts and a

  T-shirt. Normally she’d make some sort of suggestive comment about how he looked in shorts, but her mind couldn’t even fathom levity right now. “Sorry about that.

  I didn’t even realize it.”

  Then Henry actually laughed a little bit. Amanda wanted to join him, but her mouth wouldn’t work. “Hey, baby, you okay?”

  Amanda shook her head. She felt her face grow hot, her eyes beginning to water. No, she told herself. She refused to cry. This was what their relationship was. This was what Henry was.

  She couldn’t protect him. Not right now. Maybe not ever. If he’d been closer to the explosion…if Kaiser had invited Henry upstairs for an interview…if a chunk of brick or concrete had come down at the right angle…he wouldn’t be here right now.

  Amanda stood up. She went over to the table, picked up the wine and took a swig right from the bottle.

  When she put it back down and wiped her mouth, she heard Henry whistle from the couch. “That must have felt good.”

  Amanda shook her head. “No. Not really.”

  “I understand,” he said. “I didn’t mean to joke about it. I know what you must be thinking. I’m fine. Not hurt one bit. They weren’t trying to hurt me. Wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “Always seems to be that way,” Amanda said, feeling the wine warming her body, her mind going fuzzy. It felt good, and she didn’t try to stop it.

  “You know I don’t mean for things like this to happen,”

  Henry said. He walked up behind her, put his arms around her waist, leaned in close. She felt her eyes close, breathed him in, brought her arms around his and held him tight. She felt his breath on her neck, taking her away. “I love you, and I also want to be the best at my job I can possibly be. I’m not scared of chasing stories like this. Maybe I should be, but I’m not. I’ve bee through enough the past few years, a lot of it with you, to the point where I know this is what I’m meant to do.”

  “I know it is,” Amanda said. “I’m not sure if I wish it wasn’t, but I know that’s what you are and what you do.

  And I’m proud of you. I just…you don’t know what it’s like to hear the person you love say things like that.”

  “No, I don’t,” he said. “And God willing, I’ll never have to.”

  “I hope not either.” She turned around. Kissed him long and hard. “So, at least tell me this. Did you get anything?”

  Henry unwrapped his arms from her and went back to the couch. He sat down, and she joined him. Henry scratched his head. She could tell he’d learned something, and was troubled by it.

  “I got a call today. From someone I wasn’t really expecting to hear from, like, ever.”

  “Your dad,” Amanda guessed.

  “No,” Henry said, somewhat relieved. “But you’re close. Paulina Cole.”

  “No freaking way,” she said. “Why the hell would that bitch call you?”

  “Something happened to her. Recently. Someone kidnapped her, threatened to kill her daughter.”

  “Oh God,” Amanda said. “What happened?”

  “The guy let her go, but asked her to do some sort of favor for him. She wouldn’t tell me what she had to do.”

  “Was it,” Amanda said, grimacing, “sexual?”

  “I didn’t get that feeling. But she wants to find out who this guy is, but can’t go to the cops. My guess is she thinks this guy is connected. And maybe he is.”

  “So she came to you,” Amanda said.

  “She told me if I found the guy, I could have whatever story there was.”

  “If there is one. If this guy isn’t just some loon who took umbrage with one of her scorch-the-earth columns.”

  “I get the feeling it was more serious than that. One thing I know about Paulina Cole, she doesn’t scare easily.

  This guy was serious, and he scared her so bad that she won’t go to the cops and came to me. I have access to the cops she doesn’t. And I can investigate without drawing attention, because if this guy does have a mole in the

  NYPD he wouldn’t expect anything from my end. They’re watching her. Not me.”

  “But if they find out that someone is asking questions about this guy, it won’t matter who it comes from.”

  “Curt,” Henry said. “I can trust Curt.”

  “Maybe,” Amanda said. “But who can he trust?”

  Henry didn’t seem like he could answer that, so he just leaned back. “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t you think you might be putting him in danger?”

  Amanda said.

  “When I talk to him,” Henry said, “I’ll tell him everything. Including that we think they might have people inside the PD. Curt is smart. If there’s information to get, he can get it without drawing suspicion.”

  “And how do you know he’ll do it?”

  Henry looked at her, his eyes full of confidence.

  “Because Curt is like me.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I suppose he is. What are you going to tell Jack?”

  Henry sighed. Looked back over at the table. Stared at the bottle of wine, debating pouring another glass. As much as she enjoyed watching him pass out, watching him breathe as he slept, she was kind of hoping he’d be in the mood to fool around a little.

  “That’s a little more complicated.” He looked at her.

  “I can’t tell him.”

  “About Paulina?”

  Henry nodded. “I have to cue Jack in on the lead, but if he finds out I got it from Paulina, that I’d even spoken to the woman who tried to ruin his career…he’d never speak to me again. Plus Jack deserves better.”

  “From who?” Amanda asked.

  “From me. I don’t really know. But the bottom line is that he doesn’t need to know. Not right now. If we catch this guy, it’s old news. But for now…I can’t do that to him.”

  “You know him better,” Amanda said. “If you think it’s the right thing to do, then trust your judgment. But at some point you need to tell him,
because he’ll eventually find out.”

  “I know and I will. But now’s not that time. We’re getting close on this story, and I still need to know who was really responsible for my brother’s death. Somehow this all connects with the Fury.”

  “So you do believe this boogeyman exists.”

  “I think there’s someone who knew about the plans to kill my brother before anyone else, and maybe even pulled the strings. Stephen was working for some sort of cartel, and in every organization, legitimate or not, there’s someone at the top of the ladder.”

  “You think that might be this guy?”

  Henry shook his head. “The CEOs never get their hands dirty. They have people below them to do that for them. If this person does exist, he’s been able to hide in the shadows because he didn’t take stupid risks. The blond guy is acting on this person’s behalf. So even if he’s not the gold at the end of the rainbow, he knows where the pot is located.”

  “So what are you then, some sort of freaky ass leprechaun?”

  Henry laughed. “Got me the luck of the Irish.”

  “You’re not Irish,” Amanda replied.

  “Yeah, but Jack is. I knew he was back for a reason.”

  “Come to bed. I hear leprechauns are lucky.”

  “Are lucky, or get lucky?”

  Amanda stood up. Pulled her shirt over her head.

  Smiled at him as he gazed up and down her body.

  “I guess we’ll have to find out.”

  22

  The glass sat in front of him. Empty. The last remnants of the liquid sloshed in his mouth, and he finally swallowed it, his taste buds begging for more.

  “Fill it up, Jack?”

  Jack O’Donnell looked at the bartender, a big Irish bloke named Mickey, and said, “One more. Then I’m cutting myself off.”

  Mickey laughed. “If I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard you say that, Jacky boy.”

  “I mean it this time,” Jack said, but something in his voice made the barman laugh. Jack had to smile. “Hit me once more.”

  “You got it.”