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“He’s a great kid. Enthusiastic. Positive. He loves cars so I bought another kit car, and he’s going to help me build it.”

“You sound happy. Helping him is going to be good for you, I can tell.”

Happy was as good a word as any to describe what he’d felt as he helped Jeremy mark the sheet metal. For the last few months, even longer than that, he’d been running on empty. But Harper and Jeremy seemed to be filling him up again.

“And his sister, Harper? Is she someone special?”

He didn’t even have to think about it. “Very.” He’d known from that first day in the hangar that Harper was special. And good. Too good for him.

“You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that, Will. I want my boys happy. And you deserve a good woman.”

Susan didn’t see him shake his head. She really did love all of her boys, so much that Will knew she let herself forget where—and who—he came from. Forget who he was.

If Harper knew what he’d been like as a kid, all the crimes he’d committed for his dad, the hellraiser he’d been even after the asshole went to prison and he’d moved in with the Spencers—would she ever trust him with her brother? Would she ever trust him with herself? She already doubted his motives with Jeremy. If she knew the guy Will was on the inside, all the lies he’d told, all the houses he’d broken into for his dad, all the cars he’d stolen, and then what had finally gone down with the Road Warriors…

He ran a harsh hand through his hair, knowing Harper would run a mile to get away from him if she ever found out. And she’d take Jeremy, too.

Because the hard truth was that with his father’s blood flowing through his veins, no matter how far he’d come, Will would never completely be able to outrun the things he’d done.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

On Wednesday morning, the Mavericks gathered around the boardroom table in the main conference room of their headquarters in Palo Alto, near the Google campus. They’d be moving in the late fall, when Sebastian Montgomery’s new high-rise production studio in San Francisco was completed.

On the face of it, Sebastian was a self-help guru with a charismatic personality; a tall, muscular frame; and celebrity good looks that he’d channeled into a media empire. He spoke to vast audiences on anything from creating money in your life to finding your true destiny.

Sebastian had achieved every goal he’d set the day they’d made their pact to get out of Chicago. But Will wasn’t so sure happiness had been one of those objectives, except in terms of Sebastian being in control of his own destiny after being so out of control as a kid.

For today’s meeting, they presented a united front, all dressed accordingly in suit and tie—even Daniel, who was video conferencing from New York, where he was negotiating the site for another grand opening in his home improvement chain.

They came together as the Maverick Group on various investment opportunities, had even financed movies, their latest being with Smith Sullivan. And of course, there was the Link Labs endeavor. Matt Tremont, the Mavericks’ electronics genius, had brought them the prospect, since his interest lay in robotics. The group was also involved in real estate—selling, buying, renovating, developing—which was why they were all meeting today.

“Ray’s been waiting since ten o’clock.” Will flipped his arm to reveal his watch. “Only ten minutes.” They should have let the man stew for an hour. “Remember, I want to be the one to fire his ass.” Because he’d been the one to hire him. It had seemed like a good choice at the time, but a year ago, Ray Passal’s work ethic had nosedived. In the worst possible way.

“I know you’re pissed. I am, too,” Daniel said, his voice as crystal clear as his image on their state-of-the-art conferencing equipment. For the meeting, he’d tamed his unruly wavy hair and donned a suit jacket over his big shoulders. “But we don’t want to deal with the lawsuit if you beat the crap out of him. Even though he definitely deserves it.”

“Spoilsport,” Sebastian said, lounging in his chair.

“Personally,” Matt said, “I’m willing to pay for a ringside seat.”

They all knew Will had been the fighter, even if he hadn’t had a physical knockdown since he was sixteen, and he had to admit his blood was up today, itching to pound Ray into the plush conference-room carpet.

Instead, he asked Evan, “What’s the latest report?”

A couple of days ago, Evan had discovered that the majority of the deals Ray was claiming commission on weren’t Ray’s at all—at least, not for the past year. He was stealing sales from the people who worked for him. More specifically, he was bullying his sales guys into splitting commissions and giving him credit for their work.


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