Nothing Personal (19 page)

“Grandma . . .” Desiree said helplessly. Looked at Alec, who raised his eyebrows at her.

“Stubborn independence seems to run in the family,” he remarked.

“That’s right,” Dixie said. “I may
have a weak heart, but the rest of me’s still independent as the dickens. I mean it. Scat.”

“Whew.”

Alec could hear the weariness in the sigh as Rae leaned back in the passenger seat that evening. It had been a long day. Her grandmother had shooed them out of the hospital room eventually, telling them that “an old lady needs her privacy,” which had made him laugh.

Rae
had wanted to clean the house, go grocery shopping, but he’d put his foot down. “That’s what Lupe’s going to be here for,” he’d reminded her. So she’d settled for clearing space out of her drawers and closet, washing the sheets on her bed for the other woman, which he’d had to concede was probably a good idea. They’d personalized those sheets fairly well the night before.

And
Lupe herself had come in that evening full of calm competence, reassuring him that his memory hadn’t been faulty. She’d given him a warm hug, a kiss on the cheek.

“Just as handsome as ever,” she’d teased.
She and Desiree had taken to each other right from the start, and if Alec had caught a speculative look on Lupe’s face from time to time, at least she hadn’t said anything. Hadn’t warned Rae off him, as far as he could tell, which he had to confess he’d been a little worried about. The meeting with her grandmother had gone well too. Anyway, what he’d told Rae was no more than the truth. If Lupe had been able to handle the personalities and the tensions of
America Alive,
dealing with one old lady, no matter how stubbornly independent, would be a piece of cake.

They’d
seen Lupe settled in, said goodbye to Dixie, stopped by his parents’ for dinner. All good, but it had taken time and energy, it was already eight and long since dark, and Rae was drooping.

“You OK?” he asked her now. “
Go ahead and lean that seat back if you want, go to sleep.”

“Maybe
I
need a nursing home,” she tried to joke. “Or maybe you want to keep going, drive me all the way to Mexico.”

He
glanced across at her again. Made his decision, took the exit. “Well, Mexico might be out, but no reason you can’t take a day off.”

“What? Alec, no. I wasn’t serious.” She struggled upright. “Where are you going?”

“America’s vacation wonderland. Truckee.”

“Truckee?
What? Why in the world?”

“Gabe. My brother,” he explained. “
And Mira. Nobody to bring you cocktails in the pool, but people to take care of you, and you can sleep in—past seven, even.”

“I cannot take time off. Get right back on that freeway, Alec. I mean it.”

“Nope. Another executive decision. I’m kidnapping you.”

“You are not kidnapping me. That’s ridiculous.”

“Yup. I am. Bet you’ve worked every single day since you’ve started, haven’t you? Every Saturday? Every Sunday?”

“
That’s what it takes. You know that, because I’ll bet you’ve done the same. And if I need to get back, you
really
do.”

“Hey,
I got some work done. Wrote some pretty brilliant code, if I do say so myself, right in that waiting room. We’ll leave before noon if you want, and you can put in a couple hours tomorrow afternoon if you absolutely have to. But we’re going to Truckee first.”

“
We can’t just barge in on them.” She was weakening, he could tell.

“Another good try, but you still lose. Gabe’s my twin. I’m allowed to barge. I’ll call first, how’s that.”

“And that’s going to be all right with Mira too?”

“Yup. It is.”

He’d worn her down, in the end. Had called, at her insistence, received the
welcome he’d known would be there. And she’d finally relaxed. He’d put some music on, had been able to feel her calming as if he were touching her, had sensed the moment when she’d fallen asleep.

He’d driven the back roads
, then the freeway again with her there beside him, the big car eating up the dark, cold miles of flat orchard land, and foothills, and, finally, mountains, and tried to imagine what it would feel like, almost losing somebody who mattered that much to him. His mom, his dad. His sister, his twin. And found that his mind wouldn’t even go there, shied away every time it got close.

And he had four people. She had
one.

“I’ve le
d a charmed life,” he’d said to more than one interviewer, leaning back and flashing a smile that usually worked fairly well on both men and women. “I’m a lucky dog, and I know it.”

He’d said it
, secure in the knowledge that it wasn’t true. That even though he might have had more than his fair share of brains, and, all right, looks too, he’d worked hard for everything he’d earned. That nobody had ever handed him anything.

But
in fact, he’d been given so much. Because he’d gone to bed every single night, in whatever cheap place, whatever modest neighborhood his family was living that year, secure in the knowledge that his parents were handling things, that they were holding him safe. And Desiree, he was beginning to suspect, hadn’t.

It was after eleven by the time he nosed the big car into the driveway behind the red SUV. Rae pulled herself upright as he shut off the engine. “Where are we?”

“
Here. Truckee. You slept the whole way.” Nearly three hours. That should help.

She climbed out of the car while he pulled the bags from the trunk. Wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. “
Brr.”

“Shock to the system,” he agreed. “Actual winter. Careful, it’s a little slippery.” He moved both bags to his left hand, grabbed her hand with his right, and negotiated the driveway, the snow banked to
its side sensed but not seen in the cloudy dark. The windows ahead shone warm and welcoming, though, and a light by the front door cast a glow onto the wide wooden porch.

He used the doorbell, because it wasn’t just Gabe anymore. Only a few seconds, and the door opened
, spilling another pool of warm light into the cold and dark, and there was his brother.

Alec stepped inside behind
Rae, shoved the door shut against the cold, and set the bags down. Put a hand out to the one already extending to him, performed their special handshake, and knew that he hadn’t come here just for Rae.

He gave Mira her own hug and kiss next.
“Hi, pretty girl.” He stood back with both her hands in his. “Looking good. This boy still treating you right?”

“Mine,” Gabe said as always, making Alec and Mira laugh, as always.
“Get your own. Oh, wait. You finally did.”

“Worki
ng on it,” Alec corrected him, interpreting the lift of his brother’s brows without too much difficulty. “You remember Desiree, Mira.”

“Of course. I’m so glad Alec brought you to us,” Mira told her.
“It sounds like you’ve had such a rough time. I talked to Susie yesterday, and she told me what happened. How’s your grandma doing?”

“Much better,”
Rae said. “She’s going home from the hospital tomorrow.”

“Pretty mild, then, as MIs go,” Gabe guessed.

“Heart attacks, he means,” Mira explained. “Speak English, not doctor, Gabe. But why are we standing around here? It’s late, and Alec and Desiree must be exhausted. We don’t have the guest bedroom and bath done yet, I’m afraid, but the trailer’s still hooked up. And I’ll just pull out a sleeping bag and extra pillow in case you need the couch, Alec. Come on, Desiree. Let’s get you settled.”

“That was tactful
of her,” Alec remarked after Mira had picked up Desiree’s bag again, ushered her through the house and out the side door to the little travel trailer that sat in the yard, relic of Gabe and Mira’s early days of home renovation. Alec had used it himself, the last few times he’d been here. It actually made a fairly good guest suite, complete with bathroom and kitchenette.

“Yeah,” Gabe grinned, leading the way to the kitchen. “I would just have asked, ‘One bed or two?’”

“Not sure myself,” Alec admitted. “Been a hell of a weekend.”

“Not quite your usual style,” Gabe suggested.

“Nope. And I need to give her a little space right now. Use your bathroom a sec?”

“Sure.”

When he came back, Gabe was sitting at the heavy pine table in the kitchen.

“Remodel looking good,” Alec commented, running an exploratory hand over the brick wall behind the stove. “This turned out great.”

“Yeah, Mira was right to want to keep it. Got a cabin feeling to it still, the whole thing, doesn’t it?”

“And I know how you
two like that.” No stainless steel here. White appliances, cabinets made of light wood with porcelain pulls, a polished but scarred wide-plank wooden floor covered by rag rugs. It looked—and felt—intensely homey, the kind of place you could imagine your grandparents having lived for the past forty years. He could easily see Mira and Gabe here just that long.

He sat down across from his brother
, felt the relief of it.

Gabe looked at him a moment, then shoved himself back from the table.
“I’d say it’s time for the good stuff,” he decided. He pulled a tall bottle out of the cabinet above the stove, grabbed a couple of thick-bottomed glasses from another, poured a generous amount of amber liquid into each. He added a bit of water, sat down across from his twin and handed one across. “Medicinal. Cheers.”

Alec took a sip from the heavy tumbler
. “Single malt. Nice. Splashing out, bro.”

“Christmas present from a grateful patient
, appreciating that he gets to ski this year,” Gabe explained. “Or maybe a down payment on the next time. He’s pretty clumsy.”

Alec laugh
ed a little at that. “Job insurance.”

“You know it
.” Gabe took his own sip, rolled it over his tongue appreciatively. “So. Desiree.”

“Yeah.” It was a sigh. “She just takes my heart and . . .” Alec
set his glass down, put his fists together, and made the motion. “Twists it, just like that. Over and over. And I’d rather it was me. That I could take it for her, you know?”

“Uh-huh.
I do. That’s why they call it love.”

“I didn’t know it would feel like that, though. I thought it was supposed to feel
good.
But this weekend . . .” Now Alec’s hand was on his chest. “It actually hurt me, here. Physically, I mean. Nobody said your heart would literally
hurt.”

Gabe stared at him in astonishment. “Uh . . . have you
ever listened to a single song on the radio?”

Alec waved that away. “I just figured that was, you know, romantic stuff.”

“For women, you mean.” Gabe guessed correctly. “Well, I guess you found out.”

“So is that how you feel?” Alec asked.

“Oh, yeah.” Gabe looked up, alerted by something Alec hadn’t noticed.

Sure enough,
Mira appeared in the arched doorway a few seconds later, paused at the sight of the two of them. Alec saw the softening on his twin’s face, the answering glow on Mira’s.

“I’ve got Desiree settled out there,” she told Alec. “
She called the hospital, too, checked on her grandmother, so all’s well, and I’ll say good night. Don’t rush, though, Gabe. Stay and talk to your brother.” She gave them both her sweet smile, turned and left them alone.

“When she looks at me
like that,” Gabe said after a few silent moments spent contemplating the amber liquid in his glass. His eyes met Alec’s. “When I know she feels that way about me, I think, how did I get that lucky? How do I keep on deserving her? That’s what it’s all about, bro. That’s it.”

He got up, tossed off the last of his drink. “So
my advice? Go let Desiree know how you feel. And do whatever it takes to be the man she needs, because if you love her, it’s worth it.”

Alec rose t
oo, set his glass in the dishwasher next to his brother’s. “I’ll do that. See you in the morning.”

He’
d always been the older brother, even though it was only by ten minutes. Always. Alec watched his twin heading out of the kitchen as if he were following a beacon, and wondered. When had Gabe got so far out ahead of him?

His fingers hovered for a moment above the keypad, his eyes shifting to the torn-off piece of notepad, its creases smoothed out carefully, lying on his kitchen table. He hadn’t wanted to risk putting the number into his phone, much less a computer, even a personal one. Data could be traced.

This phone call could be traced, for that matter, even if he deleted it from his call history. If somebody checked, that is, and why should they? Anyway, the number he was calling, he’d been assured, was secure.

He’d been through all this already, the planner reminded himself. His tracks would be covered. More than covered.

No risk, no reward.
He made his decision, punched in the number.

“Middle of the night,” the voice on the other end said. “This had better be good news.”

“It’s good news.” The planner kept his voice low, even though he was alone in the apartment. “I’ve got 35 percent of the alpha version ready to send you. You can have it tomorrow if you play this right. And you want to. The stuff I saw today . . . this is dynamite. Kincaid was out all weekend, and he’ll be gone tomorrow too. That’s my chance, and I’m taking it. Piece of cake, and getting the beta’s going to be just that easy, because he isn’t nearly as smart as he thinks he is, and I’ve got somebody set up on the inside to provide camouflage.”

“
A third of the alpha isn’t going to pay the bills,” the voice said. “Including yours. What good is that to me?”

“Down payment,” the planner insisted
. “I’m sticking my neck way out here. I need some incentive, or should I say a million incentives, or it’s not going to happen. And don’t you want to see what you’ll be paying for?”

“I thought you had a way to cover your tracks.” The voice was sharper now. “This can’t lead back to us.
And that inside help had better not know what’s going on either. I told you, you share this with anybody, you’ve just cut your chances of getting away with it by a factor of ten.”

“I’ve got it.
Nobody else knows, and they won’t, because that payoff’s all mine.” He’d lost control here somehow, was out of the driver’s seat.
You have what he wants,
the planner reminded himself.
You’re selling, not buying.
“Down payment. A million, or I hang up and you can do your R&D the hard way.”

“Two hundred fifty K,” the voice said. “After we see the alpha.”

“A million,” the planner insisted. “First. Once I get the wire confirmation, you’ll get the code. Not before.”

“Five hundred. And that’s generous. We
can
do our own R&D, you know.”

“Not like this, you can’t.” If he backed down now, he’d just slashed his final payment, the one that was going to set him up on an island someplace where the sun always shone and the girls had sweet smiles and long dark hair. The one that was finally goi
ng to get him what he deserved, what he’d been denied. What Alec had.

“This is big,” he promised now. “This is going to change everything, you’ll see. A million, or I hang up.”

“Seven-fifty, and that’s as high as I go,” the voice said, and the planner felt the sag of relief.

“Seven-fifty,” he agreed. “I’ve got the wire instructions right here.”

“Offshore, I hope. No trail.”

“You think I’m stupid?” The familiar rage flared hot.

“No, I think you’ve never done this before.”

“And you have?”

The low chuckle came over the line. “Of course we have. You think you’re the first? You think you’re that special? You ever read the news?”

That was an unpleasant shock. “What are you doing?” the planner asked in alarm.
“Sniffing around everyone with access to anything big? That’s going to get you caught. And once they’ve got you . . . I could be twisting in the wind.”

“Relax. Of course we aren’t going to everyone. Only the ones with something we want to buy. And the ones we think will sell it.”

He heard the contempt, and his anger rose again. “I told you why I’m selling it. It’s not about the money.”

“Right.” The voice was dry. “Revenge.”

“That’s right. And living well is the best revenge.” The fear and anger subsided, overridden by buoyant satisfaction at the prospect. It was going to be so sweet to watch it all go down. “Seven-fifty. I see the money, I send you the code. And when I deliver the beta, it’s ten million, like we agreed.” He was sorry, now, that he hadn’t asked more.

“We’ll talk about that when we get there.” The voic
e was firm, and that was another shock. He wondered if he should press it now.

Wait until he sees the alpha,
he reminded himself.
Then I can ask whatever I want. Raise it to twenty.

“Give me the email address,” he said now. “Once you check this out, you’ll see what it’s worth.”

The chuckle at the other end had him bristling. “You really are an amateur. Thumb drive, bubble wrap, box. You ready for the address? And don’t put it on your computer.”

“I’m not an idiot,” the planner retorted. “Go.” He wrote, then recited the address back. A suite number. In reality, probably a mailbox in some anonymous storefront.

“Good,” the voice said. “Send the box, shred the address. Good for one time only anyway. Don’t input it
anywhere,
do you understand me?”

“Sure you don’t want me to eat it?” The insult rankled.

“No. I want you to shred it, and this phone number too.”

“How will I contact you, then
? When I’ve got the beta?”

“Don’t worry,” the voice said. “We’ll be in touch. We know where you live.”