Chapter 3 - The Terms of the Bloodhound
Nathaniel did not answer my question immediately.
He reached into the console, pulled out a crystal tumbler, and poured two fingers of dark amber bourbon.
He held the glass out toward me, his slate-gray eyes studying my face with surgical precision.
“Drink it,” he said calmly.
“Shock makes people do stupid things, and you look like you haven't taken a full breath in twenty minutes.”
I pushed the glass away with a steady hand, refusing to hide behind alcohol.
“I asked you a question, Mr. Mercer.”
“I am a payroll clerk who makes seventeen dollars an hour checking timesheets.”
“You just walked into the most dangerous room in this county and told the wealthiest families in the state that I belong to you.”
“Men like you don't play hero out of the goodness of their hearts.”
A faint, genuine smirk touched the corner of Nathaniel’s scarred mouth.
“Good,” he murmured, taking a slow sip of the whiskey himself.
“I was hoping you hadn't inherited your father’s cowardly softness.”
My breath caught in my throat at the mention of my father.
“You knew my father?”
“I knew who killed him,” Nathaniel said bluntly, the temperature inside the SUV feeling colder than the storm outside.
“And more importantly, I knew your mother, Clara Parker.”
The name struck me like a physical blow, dragging up memories of the small, tired woman who had raised me on thrift store coats.
“My mother was an archivist,” I whispered, my voice trembling despite my best efforts.
“She spent twenty years filing tax forms and land deeds in the basement of Blackridge Timber before the cancer took her.”
“She wasn't just an archivist, Emma,” Nathaniel said, leaning forward so that his face was only inches from mine.
“Clara was the chief internal auditor for the original Tri-County Timber Trust twenty years ago.”
“She was the only person who discovered that Marcus Reeves and Grant Holloway forged the 2004 land surveys.”
“They stole six hundred thousand acres of old-growth basin from my grandfather while he was dying in a Denver hospice.”
I stared at him in horror, the puzzle pieces of my childhood suddenly shifting into a terrifying new picture.
I remembered the locked metal filing boxes my mother kept under her bed.
I remembered the late-night phone calls that made her weep in the kitchen with the lights turned off.
I remembered how she begged me never to take a job at Blackridge, a warning I had ignored because I was desperate for health insurance.
“What does that have to do with Daniel Reeves kissing me behind a dumpster?” I asked, bitterness coating my tongue.
Nathaniel’s eyes darkened with raw, predatory contempt.
“Daniel Reeves didn't spend eleven months bringing you coffee because he fancied your smile, little bird.”
“His father, Marcus Reeves, realized two months ago that a duplicate copy of the 2004 forensic audit had survived the basement fire.”
“They knew Clara had taken the master ledger home before she was forced into early retirement.”
“Marcus ordered his golden-boy son to get close to you, gain your trust, and search your apartment for the paper trail.”
The air inside the vehicle seemed to evaporate instantly.
Nausea twisted violently in my stomach as memories flashed behind my eyelids.
I remembered Daniel offering to fix the leaking pipe beneath my bathroom sink three weeks ago.
I remembered coming back from the corner grocery store with milk, finding him standing near my mother’s old wooden vanity.
He had smiled that charming, crooked smile and claimed he was just admiring the vintage wood.
He hadn't been admiring anything; he had been turning my life upside down looking for evidence to destroy.
“He was hunting,” I whispered, the realization tasting like ash in my mouth.
“He was hunting,” Nathaniel confirmed without an ounce of pity.
“Three days ago, Daniel reported to his father that your apartment contained nothing but thrift store novels and medical bills.”
“He concluded that whatever Clara had hidden was either lost or destroyed when she died.”
“The moment Daniel decided you were useless to their corporate defense, he finalized his merger with Madeline Cross.”
“Madeline’s father owns the processing mills the Reeves family needs to liquidate that stolen timber before federal regulators step in.”
Tears of burning fury finally broke through my defenses, hot and stinging against my cheeks.
I hadn't just been dumped; I had been surveyed, plundered, and discarded like a piece of worthless scrap paper.
“Why didn't you stop them?” I demanded, glaring at Nathaniel through my tears.
“If you knew all of this, why did you let that snake play me for a fool for eleven months?”
“Because I didn't know you existed until forty-eight hours ago,” Nathaniel replied coldly.
“My intelligence team intercepted the Reeves family’s private email chain regarding the audit recovery operation.”
“I flew into Jackson tonight for one reason only: to find Clara Parker’s daughter before they decided to tie up their loose ends.”
“What loose ends?” I asked, a chill running down my spine.
Nathaniel set his glass down on the console, his gaze unblinking.
“You don't honestly believe they were going to let you keep your job on Monday morning, do you?”
“The moment that gala ended, your lease was scheduled for termination, your bank accounts were flagged for corporate fraud, and your car was going to disappear.”
“They were going to erase you from Jackson, Emma, to make sure you never asked questions about your mother’s pension.”
The SUV slowed to a crawl, turning off the highway onto a private, winding mountain road lined with towering pines.
High above us, the dark silhouette of the Mercer estate loomed against the jagged peaks of the Teton Range.
“So what now?” I asked, clenching my fists against the soft wool of his coat.
“You rescue me so I can give you the ledger you think I have?”
“I don't have it, Mr. Mercer.”
“My mother died with forty-two dollars in her checking account and took her secrets to the grave.”
Nathaniel reached out, his thumb catching a single stray tear on my cheek and wiping it away with startling tenderness.
“You don't need the ledger tonight, Emma.”
“You just need to survive the next forty-eight hours while I tear their dynasty apart brick by brick.”
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“Tomorrow morning, the world will believe you are the future mistress of Pinehaven.”
“And together, we are going to make Daniel Reeves choke on every promise he ever made you.”
