“Reservoir,” I correct automatically.

  “Whatever. It’s a risk to his health, and he’s wealthy enough that he should never worry about money again. Make Shane find his own way in the goddamn world. I found mine. And when Rogan gets his shit together, he will, too. Our oldest brother needs to grow up or fuck off.”

  Can’t say I disagree. “Thanks for your time, Mr. Rawson.”

  “Just Brady. And hey, if you change your mind about that online fitness platform, let me know. I’ll hook you up with a month’s pass.”

  I already have a tough workout regimen, and Evan is a taskmaster in the gym if I ever think about slacking off. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “And here’s Rogan’s number, just in case. He might be more interested in saving Dad’s effort at data storage domination than me. Worth a try, anyway.”

  Then Brady is gone.

  I stare at my dimming phone with a sigh. Now that my second hope is gone, what are the odds that I’ll have any luck with Rawson’s youngest?

  Slim to none, but I have to try.

  Monday morning—Rogan’s time—I call and leave a message. At least he calls me back the same day, though it’s four o’clock in the afternoon.

  “Mr. Rawson?” I ask.

  “That’s my dad. I’m just Rogan. Brady mentioned you’d be calling me. What’s up?”

  If the youngest son isn’t involved, I can shorten this conversation a lot. “I’m the consultant your father hired to help streamline Reservoir. Are you planning to join the organization?”

  “Fuck no. They have meetings before ten a.m. Who does that?”

  Most of corporate America. “So you’re not planning to pitch in?”

  “I’m busy with my life. If it helps, I feel sorry for you, having to deal with Shane. He’s my oldest brother, and I love him…but he’s useless. For real.”

  “Yet he’s somehow going to run the organization?” I gently point out how stupid that is in the hopes it will make a difference to this guy. But I’m not holding my breath.

  Rogan Rawson has all the potential in the world…and seemingly no drive. He has two degrees, one in physics, the other in chemistry. Unlike Shane, he finished college—with honors. And unlike Brady, he had job offers galore when he graduated. But Rogan was seemingly born with a silver spoon in his mouth and thinks he’s entitled to start at executive-level compensation, choose his work environment, and make his own hours. So like the spoiled heir he is, when he didn’t get his way, Rogan declined all the job offers and decided to extend his childhood until someone gave him a “real” opportunity.

  He’s bent. The world doesn’t owe this guy anything. But that’s not my problem.

  “Hey, Shane gets paid to do it. I could run circles around him, but Dad thinks I’m ‘irresponsible,’ so I’ll let him and his golden boy figure it the fuck out. Not that my oldest brother is capable of that.”

  Rogan took the words right out of my mouth. “Any clue how I’m supposed to help this company if no one wants to even get involved enough to send me a few financial statements?”

  The guy hesitates a long time, then sighs. “Look, you didn’t hear this from me, but the person who’s really going to end up running things is the one person my dad won’t acknowledge. He has a daughter.”

  Not according to what I read on the internet. “Come again?”

  “Jesus, this is so ridiculous. My dad went through… I don’t know what to call it. A mid-thirties crisis? He had an affair with an employee. She was single and twenty and broke. He was older and rich and horny. I didn’t pay attention to the gory details. I just know that, about ten years ago, this girl showed up on our doorstep and claimed she was Dad’s daughter. A blood test proved her right. All hell broke loose. Mom divorced Dad. He tried to pretend his affair never happened and sent the girl away. I don’t know what happened after that, but now she’s running a whole division of Dad’s operation. I hear people are going around Shane to get help from Sloan. That’s her name.”

  “Why?” Do they perceive she has some authority because she’s the boss’s illegitimate daughter? And if that’s common knowledge, why couldn’t I find that out when I started digging?

  “She’s really fucking smart and not shy about expressing her opinion. She’s a leader. She gets shit done and doesn’t hesitate to make the hard decisions. Of course, no one knows who she really is, and you didn’t hear the truth from me, but I think her fellow employees see the writing on the wall.”

  I have my suspicions what he means, but I still ask. “And what’s that?”

  “Shane will never be qualified to run Dad’s enterprises. It’s too complicated. Brady doesn’t give two shits, and I care even less. But Sloan? She doesn’t quit and doesn’t allow failure. She’s the son Dad always wanted. If you’re serious about helping Reservoir, start with her.”

  I am serious about helping, just not Bruce Rawson. “Got her number?”

  “No. We don’t…” He huffs. “It’s not like we’re family.”

  I refrain from pointing out they are exactly that. Evan is lucky that his brothers and sisters didn’t cut him off simply because their dad had a wandering dick and loved planting his seed in most of his assistants, including Evan’s mother. Thankfully, the Reed clan welcomed my buddy with open arms.

  “Got it. Do you know her last name?” I’ve got to find her if I’m going to make any fucking progress on this case. The clock is already ticking…

  “O’Neill. And she looks just as Irish as she sounds.”

  What does that mean? I don’t get to ask before Rogan starts talking again.

  “Shit. I’ve said too much. Keep this on the down low, huh? Dad would kill me if this news got out.”

  “You got it. I won’t tell a soul.” I’ll just use the knowledge against them when the time is right. “Thanks.”

  March 6

  The following morning, I wake up at the ass crack of dawn, Maui time, to continue the illusion that I’m consulting from Phoenix. It’s still early in Dallas, so I plan to leave a message for Sloan O’Neill. Instead, she picks up on the first ring.

  “O’Neill here.” Her voice sounds crisply competent.

  “Hi, Ms. O’Neill, I’m Jeremy McBride, the—”

  “Consultant Bruce Rawson hired to take Reservoir to the next level and prepare us for global expansion, yes. How can I help you?”

  In one sentence, she’s already given me more useful information than all three of Rawson’s sons combined. I had no idea their corporate goal was global expansion. That explains their interest in Wynam… “I wondered if I could have a few minutes of your time. I’d like to understand your capacity in the organization and—”

  “Have you spoken to Shane Rawson?”

  “Yes, along with Brady and Rogan. The last referred me to you.”

  She’s quiet for a long time. Is she wondering if I know they’re her brothers?

  “What do you need?” she finally asks.

  “I’ve been hired to do a job, but so far I’ve been unable to lay my hands on even basic information. I need the last five years of financial statements. Do you have them?”

  “I have the previous four. I’ll shoot them over now. Email address?”

  Thankfully, Jeremy and I thought of this eventuality, and he lent me one of his company’s little-used addresses, which I’ve already set up in my mail program. I rattle it off to Sloan. Seconds later, the email pops into my inbox with a neat row of four attachments.

  “Just got them. Thank you. Do you have any idea when you’ll be able to share the statement for last year?”

  Another hesitation. “I’ve been working with the proper internal groups to get that finished. I’ll make some phone calls and update you shortly.”

  “Great. So, Ms. O’Neill—”

  “Just Sloan. Can I call you Jeremy?”

  “Of course.”

  “Thanks. Let me know if you need anything else.”

  I should let Reservoir rot. But it sounds like Shane will see to its demise sooner rather than later, which will make my job for Evan easy as hell. But in five minutes, this woman has already given me the reports I’ve spent too long trying to get my hands on and offered me more help. It feels wrong not to…I don’t know, throw her a bone? Besides, I admire her crisp intelligence. “I also haven’t received anything resembling an org chart yet. Can you shed any light on the firm’s hierarchy and structure?”

  In my ear, she lets out a quiet sigh, then stifles it, as if she knows it’s either unprofessional or pointless to show her displeasure with senior management. “While Mr. Rawson—Bruce, not Shane—is out temporarily for a project so super-secret even I don’t know about it…”

  Bullshit. She knows her father’s health isn’t good. I’d bet money on that. And in her shoes, I’d also make up something amazing he’s supposedly doing if I didn’t want anyone to know that my fearless leader has a weakness. But it’s notable that she didn’t call him Dad…

  “So I’ve heard. No idea when he’ll be back?”

  “Oh, I don’t talk to the senior Rawson much. He’s a lot of levels above my pay grade.” Sloan affects a polite chuckle.

  I doubt she’s laughing on the inside. I feel somewhat bad for her, pretending—for whatever reason—that the two of them aren’t related. I probably shouldn’t. It’s not my problem. I’m simply here for information about Reservoir, not to dig into their father-daughter dynamic. “So while Bruce is out…”

  “Shane has assumed the CEO’s role. He’s in charge of everything related to Reservoir.”

  What a fucking shame—and a nightmare for Sloan. Why was she passed over in favor of Rawson’s oldest son? Because he’s male? Because he’s the heir apparent? Because she’s illegitimate? “I’ve spoken to him a bit. He seems very…busy. And Karly sounds like a truly enthusiastic assistant.”

  “I’m sorry. Was he getting fucked or blown?”

  Her straightforward question takes me aback. “Blown.”

  “Of course. Less effort required on his part.” She sighs. “Please excuse that. It’s not typical of executive behavior at Reservoir.”

  I’m sure, or nothing would ever get done. And right now, Rawson’s organization is our most serious, on-the-rise competitor. “Your org structure?”

  Suddenly, my temporary inbox pings with a new delivery. She’s already sent me an org chart—a temporary one with Shane’s name in the CEO spot. Below that, I see five unfamiliar names, one each in the boxes for VP of Finance, Tech, HR, Marketing, and Management. Below that is a collection of directors in smaller but similar capacities. Under those, I finally spot Sloan’s name. She’s the manager of a technical team that shepherds new products and services to market while liaising with both Finance and Marketing. In other words, she has a ton of responsibility but none of the glory or pay.

  “I just received your email. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Things are…shifting frequently, so I can’t promise the organization will look like this tomorrow.”

  And that frustrates her. I hear it in her voice. “When did you join Reservoir?”

  “Three years ago.”

  “Have you been in the same position all that time?”

  “No. I started in an entry-level job on the Finance team. But my first boss said I was overqualified, so he—”

  “Why?” And if that’s true, why was she hired in the first place?

  “I have a double degree in economics and finance, along with an MBA. I was working a job one step up from clerical.”

  Holy cow. Maybe the better question is, why did she take that job? I’m all for people earning their promotions and proving their worth before being rewarded, but even then she probably had more practical knowledge about running a business than most of the organization. And Bruce Rawson allowed HR to hire her before shuttling her into a dark corner of his company like a dirty little secret?

  Then again, maybe that’s exactly how the man sees her. After all, Shane Rawson being interim CEO proves that not everyone is expected to work their way up in the company.

  “That’s impressive,” I praise.

  And it is. She has more degrees than me, and since she’s younger than Rogan, she’s probably in her mid-twenties.

  “Thank you. When I first joined Reservoir, I spent nine months assisting the assistant manager on one of the Finance teams. Then Smith, the VP over Technical Solutions, hired me. I was in that job for a year before I was promoted again, mostly so the organization could take advantage of my interdisciplinary knowledge. Recently, Smith promoted me again. So here I am.”

  “Thanks for the perspective.”

  “Well, it’s only enough for you to know I’m not the firm’s mover and shaker. I can introduce you to those who are.”

  Either she’s being modest or someone—Shane? Bruce himself?—has convinced her she’s not important. Because they want her contained but not seen? If that’s the case, why does she stay?

  Whatever. I need to focus on stopping Reservoir from pursuing Wynam. “That would be fantastic. Should I call one of them to get the most recent annual report once it’s done?”

  “Yes. Perez is over Finance, as you can see. He would be best, but he’s had some unfilled positions in key spots for a while. I know HR is working on that, but with the holidays and Bruce Rawson’s absence, I’m afraid positions have been filled more slowly than usual.”

  Even if Perez has vacancies on his team, I don’t see why he can’t rally his existing troops to get things done. Should I chalk up the inaction to laziness or rebellion? I doubt Bruce would have suffered slackers, but because Shane doesn’t care, maybe Perez is showing his bureaucratic resistance to their new leader?

  “Understood. What kind of new products and services are you working on now?”

  “There are more than a few, and I’m afraid I have a meeting in three minutes with Smith. I’ll see about compiling a list of proposed expansion projects, timelines, and associated budgets when I get a few minutes.”

  “That would be very helpful. I’ll look over everything you’ve sent, and I’m sure I’ll have more questions.”

  “I can direct you to the person best able to answer them. Have a good day, Jeremy.”

  Then she’s gone, and I find myself wishing I had a few more minutes with her. I love a good cat-and-mouse game, sure. The chase is in my blood. The kill is one of my greatest thrills in life. It’s a major reason Evan stays glued to me at the hip. But there’s something about this woman. She’s a mystery. Why would she work for her father and give her blisteringly effective best only to be continually undervalued? Advancement opportunities? Does she realize that Shane is an idiot and will be easily overthrown the minute Bruce steps down for good? Or does she have emotional reasons for her seemingly illogical decisions?

  Since it’s still zero-dark-thirty in Maui, I set my phone aside and turn off my bedside lamp. I’ll need a few more hours of sleep if I’m going to be productive today.

  But my brain won’t shut down. Questions about Sloan keep whirling in my head.

  Twenty minutes and a frustrated punch of my pillow later, I grunt and fling myself out of bed, then march to my home office down the hall. Sighing, I sit, wrench open my laptop, and indulge the curiosity I shouldn’t.

  It takes a few minutes and a few searches, but I finally find information on Bruce Rawson’s illegitimate daughter. Sloan Meghan O’Neill, twenty-five. She did her undergrad studies at the University of North Texas and got her MBA from UT Arlington. Good schools but not great. She amassed her fair share of student loans—lots of people have—but she’s been diligently paying them down since the minute she graduated. Her mother drowned in a freak scuba-diving incident six weeks before she finished her graduate studies. Tough fucking break. Sloan has no social media accounts, which is both interesting and unusual. No dating profiles, either. Pictures of her are impossible to find.

  For the first time in a long time, the internet has created more questions than answers for me. My gut tells me she might be the one hurdle between my success and failure on Evan’s behalf. I’ll need to stay on my toes when I talk to her. Since she’s smart, she’ll most likely look up Jeremy McBride, too. She’ll see a good-looking SOB with a slightly checkered social media presence during his college years. She’ll find some factoids about him, so if she asks me personal questions about family or friends, I’ll have to respond accordingly.

  This is going to be an interesting challenge.

  Is that the only reason you’re still dwelling on your conversation with her?

  Of course. I’m not looking to get laid. I can do that whenever I want.

  But how often do you meet a woman you can talk to? Who speaks your language?

  Oh, for fuck’s sake. I’m only in Sloan’s life to get a job done, not to start anything personal.

  Still, I surf over to Reservoir’s website and click all over the place. Finally, under their Community Outreach tab, I find an interesting assortment of photos they posted following a recent food bank drive. I scroll through all the pictures, scanning the names of those tagged under each.

  I’m about to give up when… There. Second from the bottom. I spot a picture marked as David V. Smith, VP of Tech Development, and team—all of whom are men except a woman standing off to one side, in profile, helping a family in need.

  Sloan isn’t what I expected. Yes, she’s young. And she’s petite but not delicate. It’s no surprise she’s got a sharp jaw and a determined profile…but her slightly parted lips look unbearably soft. Her hair is tucked professionally at her nape, yet the style isn’t at all severe. Instead, she’s roped her tresses into a thick twist that starts at her forehead and follows her hairline before gently tucking into an artless bun. And despite her cool alabaster skin against a stark gray shirt, she looks almost warm.

  I’m struck by the image. I can’t put my finger on the reason, except she’s a handful of subtle contradictions. From talking to her, I know she’s a matter-of-fact ball-buster, but in this shot, I see an unguarded moment of unexpected vulnerability on her face.