Kiss Me. Сьюзен Мэллери
“Tell me the plan, Chase.”
Zane looked like a man holding on to his temper with both hands. Chase wasn’t sure how long his brother’s grip would last. He started talking as fast as he could.
“Like I said, it was our school project. We had to design a website, then put it on the internet.”
“Through the school,” Zane said, his teeth clenched. “But you put yours on a host so anyone could access it.”
“Um, that was an accident. Reese Hendrix did it as a joke.”
Zane’s hands curled into fists. “A joke? You advertised a cattle drive. You took reservations. You accepted money.”
“Just for a little while,” Chase protested. “Look, I know what I’m doing.”
His brother stood and crossed to the window. “So people are arriving on Saturday expecting a six-day cattle drive? Was that the plan?”
“No. Don’t worry, I’ve got that taken care of. It was a mistake. When the money started arriving, Peter and I didn’t know what to do.” Okay, later he’d figured out that sending it back with a letter explaining the mix-up would have been really smart, but it hadn’t occurred to him at the time.
“Peter and I are working on our robot, and we needed parts. Peter put in his share, but you wouldn’t loan me any money or pay for anything.”
“You used strangers’ money for your project?” Zane bellowed, turning back to face him. “That’s stealing. The whole website is fraud, and I’m sure we can throw in theft for good measure.”
Chase sprang to his feet. “I didn’t steal. I’d never steal or do those other things.”
“Then where’s the money?”
“Right here.” Chase moved to his computer and started typing quickly. “Peter and I did some day-trading. We figured we’d just borrow their money for a while. After we made a bundle off the deposits, we’d return them and keep the profits. Which was a great idea until the fourth day when we lost nearly everything.”
Zane made a sound low in this throat. Chase kept typing, logging on to his brokerage account.
“I know what you’re thinking. That we were screwed, right? But then we overheard this tourist at the Fourth of July Festival in Fool’s Gold talking about a tech company that was going to announce a new kind of motherboard, and their stock would go through the roof. So we bought as much as we could with what we had left. The announcement is going to be at five today. We’ll sell the stock and send back the deposits. I figured we’d tell everyone the ranch burned down or something so they won’t show up.”
He risked a glance at his brother. “So I’ve got it covered. I’ve even written up the letter telling everyone not to come and that we’ll be sending their deposits back overnight mail. Pretty good, huh?”
Zane’s expression remained unreadable. “You stole their money, lost it day-trading, plan to get it back through insider trading and you’re canceling their vacation with less than a week’s notice. You think that’s pretty good?”
His voice rose with each word. Chase had the feeling he was trying to control himself, only he wasn’t doing a really great job.
“These people are expecting a vacation. They’ve taken time off work, bought tickets. You want me to give you an idea of how much they could sue you for?”
“Not really,” he muttered.
At that moment his brokerage account popped up. He scrolled down to the value and nearly passed out when he saw it was less than two dollars.
“No!” he yelled. He frantically clicked on the stock trading code of the company to check on recent news articles. A big headline flashed onto his computer screen.
Company President Arrested for Stealing Proprietary Information from Rivals.
He felt more than heard his brother approach. Zane touched the screen. “There seems to be a problem with your plan.”
Chase didn’t know what to say. This was bad. Really bad. Probably the worst thing he’d ever done. He felt nauseous. He couldn’t think. People were going to be arriving for a cattle drive. He didn’t have the money to pay them back, and if Zane didn’t bail him out, he was probably going to be arrested. Or worse.
“I really blew it,” he said more to himself than his brother.
“Looks that way.”
Heat flared on Chase’s cheeks. He stared at the floor, studying the scarred wood beneath his feet and the scuffs on his worn cowboy boots.
“Sorry.”
“Sorry?” Zane swore loudly. “You’ve pulled some pretty boneheaded stunts in the past, but you’ve never gone this far before. I expected better.” He clenched his hands, as if trying to keep from punching something...or someone. “I always expect better of you. After all this time, you’d think I’d learn.”
No punishment, not even a good beating, could ever hurt worse than those words. They made Chase feel small and afraid. His throat tightened, as did his chest. For the first time in years, he thought he might actually cry.
“Now what?” Chase asked.
Zane walked to the door. “Good question. You have a backup plan?”
Chase shook his head. “I g-guess—” His voice cracked, and he had to clear his throat before continuing. “I guess I need to borrow the money so I can pay those people back.”
Zane didn’t say anything for a long time. When he finally spoke, Chase knew it was going to be bad.
“A loan would be too simple,” Zane said. “I’m going to call Raoul and Pia to tell them what you and Peter did. Then I’m going to try to figure out what to do with you. This isn’t going to be an easy punishment. I’m going to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.”
He walked out of the room without saying another word. Chase watched him go. For the first time in his life, he wondered if Zane was going to send him away. Chase tried to tell himself it wouldn’t be so bad. He hated the ranch. He wanted to go away, to study computers and lasers and all kinds of cool stuff. Not cattle breeding.
But leaving on his own terms and being kicked out by his only living blood relative were two very different things. He sank back on the bed, feeling alone and scared and a whole lot younger than seventeen.
TWO HOURS AFTER her court hearing, Phoebe had cleared out her desk, left her pending files on April’s desk, purchased a large quantity of chocolate and candy from the See’s store and driven to the tall Century City high-rise where her best friend, Maya Farlow, was a producer for a TV entertainment news program.
She smiled at the assistant Maya shared with two other producers, sitting at a desk in the wide hallway. Phoebe tapped lightly on the paneled door, then stepped into a tiny office with a floor-to-ceiling window.
Maya was on the phone, but she motioned for Phoebe to take a seat in front of her desk. Instead Phoebe crossed to the window first and stared out at the north-facing view. To the west lay the Pacific Ocean, to the east, the barely visible high-rises of downtown Los Angeles. And somewhere north was the San Fernando Valley—a suburban mecca everyone loved to mock but that Phoebe actually enjoyed visiting from time to time. The June gloom had burned off, leaving behind brilliant blue skies only possible in Southern California. New York might be the frenetic city that never slept, but LA was cutting-edge cool with a dash of sass.
“Zane,” Maya said, her voice tight, “he’s young. He did something stupid, but—”
Zane. Which meant Maya was talking