Her Perilous Wolf - Julie Steimle (types of ebook readers TXT) 📗

Vincent halted. So Henry had heard about one? Rick had not been in pajamas, though. That was the time Rick’s mother had returned to society, if briefly—and Rick had snuck in, dressed in dark clothes while he was playing ninjas with two kids. It had been funny, actually. It made him human. Vincent continued on his way—that last thought in his mind.

“Where are you going anyway?” Henry continued on his heels.

“Records,” Vincent said.

He then entered the room. There were the old fashioned filing cabinets, but also those containing a collection of boxes loaded with digital records on USBs and CD’s for the truly old stuff. The record office had a librarian who was quickly at the main desk to service Vincent with a barely-hidden glare at Henry Bruchenhaus. “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” Vincent said. “Do you have any files on any projects or deals my grandfather may have had with Tristain Enterprises?”

“Ah…” the librarian nodded at him, typing into the computer catalogue. “Is he ready to open up talks with them again?”

“I’m hoping so,” Vincent said, trying to maintain composure. It was good news there was something to work with. “Do you know anything about what happened to halt those negotiations?”

The librarian shook his head. “No. Sorry. But I do recall your grandfather being entirely put out that things did not go through.”

Vincent nodded. This was helpful.

Henry sighed heavily. “Look. Cuz, are you coming to the party or not? Grand-mamá will be so disappointed if you don’t. You gotta hook up with somebody.”

The librarian restrained a flinch, though Vincent spotted it.

“No,” Vincent peered toward the librarian, waiting for the file reference. “I don’t.”

Grinning, the librarian passed on the file number then directed Vincent to the cabinet. Henry followed Vincent there.

“And why not?”

“I,” Vincent pulled open the cabinet, looking in for the file, “believe that intimate relations between the sexes ought to be done out of love and within the bonds of matrimony.”

He extracted a file container with a CD and three USBs. The librarian directed him to a computer next. He could make copies with permission, but the files were not to leave the records room.

“What kind of talk is that?” Henry moaned with an annoyed eye roll. “Are you watching Jane Austen again?”

Vincent looked at him straight. “You know full well Grandma Bruchenhaus is trying to set you up with a WIFE at those parties, right?”

Henry rolled his eyes. Of course he knew, but not that he cared.

“And I am not ready for marriage any more than you are,” Vincent said. He put the first file USB into the computer. “But the difference between you and me is that I believe that sex must involve the deepest kind of love—and should not be done just for pure pleasure.”

Henry merely leaned back, smirking. “Man, you Williamses are such prudes.”

“Well, as Audry likes to say, ‘Prude is short for prudent—which means wise’.” Vincent smirked back.

But even those listening around him thought Vincent was behind the times. However, it did not pay to argue. People tended to stick with the beliefs they started with. They were stubborn like that.

Henry eventually gave up harassing his cousin and strolled back to his department. As he did, Vincent wondered to himself why he, himself, was working for his grandfather. He really didn’t care for business, though he had agreed to do it back when he started school because he had been undecided about a career—and for the life of him, at that time, he just could not think of any one thing he wanted to do. His father had said at the time that he’d better figure it out soon, as they were not made of money—unlike his grandfather. But that idea had led to Vincent going to his grandfather for funding. The man merely required in return that Vincent study business administration. The job just seemed to have chosen him, really.

It wasn’t that he hated business either. It was just blah. Vincent liked talking with people and negotiating things—but for some odd reason, the power and the wealth connected to it was just so utterly shallow that it could not hold his attention for long. Rather, he liked getting to know people, learning their dreams and their needs, and possibly meeting those needs. He liked seeing work associates ending up with that win-win scenario. He liked the contracts which brought about mutual agreement that satisfied all parties. That satisfaction was nice feeling. That was the only joy of the job. The social parties were merely one setting in which to do it. He preferred most other venues, such a business conventions. Admittedly, he did like the excursions and cruises. They were the perks, which he knew lured most men into business.

His eye caught on something in the file, finally. It was a deal a few years back that had fallen through. He peered over the notes and why it had not settled agreeably. Reading more, he saw it had been a last minute decision on the side of Tristain Enterprises. His son, Michael, would not sign off on the deal. And that was all.

Vincent found another one. It was a deal with manufacturing. They had a debate about factories. One of them was trying to take up some slack for a lost deal with none other than Deacon Enterprises. This would have happened back when Michael was barely out of high school. That deal did not work out simply due to a promise Mr. Toms had made with Deacon Enterprises, not backing out of their agreement, despite profit loss. Vincent stared at that one.

Tristain Enterprises did business with Deacon Enterprises. That was a situation in itself which did not feel coincidental. His grandfather’s company had very few business dealings with Deacon Enterprises as they were mostly competitors. But business was business. Yet if Michael were an SRA agent, why would they be doing business with werewolves?

Or did they even know? Maybe this was proof the man on the website and the man who was the heir for Tristain Enterprises were two different men, just with a similar name. Deacon Enterprises had business connections around the world. They were ubiquitous. And yet what were the odds that the Tomses knew the Deacons?

Vincent made copies of the files he needed then mentally formulated a plan of how to approach his grandfather to get him all help he needed to go westward.

His grandfather was in his office, but only just. Vincent caught sight of the man as he was heading out his door for lunch with some old colleagues. When he saw Vincent approach, he smiled. “Ah! Vincent! There you are! Are you prepared for the society event tomorrow? That email from you was a joke, right?”

Sighing, Vincent shook his head, “Grandpa, actually, something more pressing has been on my mind. Tristain Enterprises. You’ve been trying to get any kind of business deal with them for several years, am I right?”

His grandfather leaned back. “Wow. Now if that isn’t a complete change of attitude. The last time I brought it up, you thought it was too far-fetched to even try it, with our history with them.”

Vincent recalled that he had said that once. That west-coast company just did not seem like it wanted anything to do with their business, and it had felt a degree insulting at the time, as so many knew the value of their business. But it also did feel like a lost cause.

“Well, yeah,” Vincent replied, shifting his feet uncomfortably. “But I was thinking of taking another tack. The CEO’s son, Michael, is around my age and due to be more involved in the company shortly—”

“More involved?” the elderly Mr. Bruchenhaus shook his head. “No. He’s been calling most of the shots since the squirt had his nervous breakdown.”

“Nervous breakdown?” Vincent stared, not recalling that event.

Nodding, Grandpa Bruchenhaus said, “Yes. That one summer, since he was sixteen when he disappeared then came back saying a cult kidnapped him—”

Same story. Different interpretation. But Michael had been calling the shots? Something else had to have been going on then.

“—He was severely affected by it, with a dramatic personality change,” his grandfather said. “The kid started walking around as if he were not sixteen, making suggestions about his father’s company and how he ought to run it. I lost five deals because of him.”

“Five?” Apparently he had missed some in his research.

“Yes!” his grandfather declared. “Five. He refused to break deals with Deacon Enterprises, even when they were losing money with the arrangement. That kid is hand in glove with H. Richard Deacon the Third. They’re good friends.”

Vincent paled, as this confirmed a lot. “What?”

“Didn’t you know?” His grandfather gazed at him with pleased surprise, as indeed Vincent was curious. “The headquarters for Deacon Enterprises is in the same town where Michael’s maternal grandmother lives. And I hear the woman is a blasted Wiccan—you know, like your cousin’s great aunt of the Waite clan. I even heard a crazy rumor that his own grandmother tried to kill him.”

Chills went down Vincent from his chest. He had not known that. But Rick truly knew Michael Toms? And they were connected by that same town Silvia and those crazy witch gals were from? But he had to ask, just to make sure Michael was the same guy as the man in the SRA. A kidnapping by witches would be motivation, surely. “Uh, did… did Michael get involved in anything weird like that cult stuff after he returned from that whole kidnapping thing?”

Nodding in earnest, his grandfather gestured for Vincent to walk with him. “Indeedy he did. You’re a smart young man, worth your salt. But he, when he came back and claimed a cult kidnapped him (hogwash. I think he ran away), he stopped being such a book-worm, and he joined prominent, active clubs like fencing, archery, horseback riding and all that good stuff. However, the boy also began to obsess about occult nonsense. Weird stuff including swords, crystals and… I can’t get any more explicit—monsters. He was always an overachiever, but his father confided in me when he first came back that his son, and I quote, ‘freaked him out’. But thing was… a year later when I was working on the flax and cord deal with him, the son seemed to be calling the shots—talking way above his pay grade, acting like he was in his thirties. As for his father, he just looked whipped. I’d never seen anything like it in all my days.”

Vincent wondered. This was too coincidental. “And he’s still Rick Deacon’s friend?”

“What do you mean still?” His grandfather said. But then he blinked, his eyes going wide. “Rick Deacon? Are you on a personal speaking basis with H. Richard Deacon the Third?”

Coloring, Vincent was stuck for words a second. “Uh… actually, no. Not exactly. I mean, I’ve spoken with him on occasion—”

“On occasion? Which occasion?” His grandfather was full-of-hope, with compounded interest.

Blushing more, Vincent said, “Actually, Audry is more his acquaintance. She introduced us—”

“Audry?” Gregory Bruchenhaus nodded to himself. “Yes… I recall Tiffany talking about Audry being involved with young Mr. Deacon….”

“Don’t make it sound romantic, Grandpa,” Vincent warned, paling. “It was complicated, and not what you think. They just crossed paths a lot. She did research on his land, and consequently kept bumping into friends of his. They are friends of friends.”

“Not the way your grandmother talked about it,” the old man murmured, nodding to himself. “She said young Mrs. McGivens seemed to think they would have made a fine couple.”

This was heading in a bad way. Desperate to steer the old man’s thoughts in another direction, Vincent said, “That minor acquaintance aside, I think I might be able to change Michael Toms’s mind.”

Nodding more as they came to the elevator at the end of the hall, Mr. Gregor Bruchenhaus replied, “Probably, if you are an acquaintance of Mr. Deacon the Third. You might actually be able to pull it off.” He pressed the button to go down.

Vincent breathed easier.