#hmm you though I'd have a story without an evil ceo

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Loose ends

Home is where the hurt is: Part 1 - Continued from Part 30

-

The phone in his pocket pinged that dreaded tune. The one he couldn’t ignore, couldn’t afford to ignore.

Zayne plunged a hand in his jacket pocket. His mood instantly darkened when he heard the notification. And he’d had such a good time at Jay’s this evening.

He'd hit one of those rare moments where he got Jay begging on his own accord. Jay's mood was usually one of reluctant acceptance so this didn’t happen often. Mostly he'd have to tell him to beg but then the tone was spoiled by anger. When Jay chose to beg, Zayne knew he'd hit the right snare, and it played a tone of beautiful despair.

Twas good to feel in control.

But the text notification brought him right back to earth. Reminded him of his place.

$ $ $ - 18:26 New job for you. Details at 8pm.

Shit. It was 7.30 already. He’d better hurry. The business district was on the other side of town.

-

Zayne pulled his motor helmet from his head and looked up at the tall, darkened building; only on a spare number of floors a couple of lights were still on and the ground floor’s reception office was brightly lit. Zayne walked in, past the guard who just nodded at him.

He was only allowed to visit at night. The only person he bumped into every now and then was either the janitor or the guard at the reception. People who wouldn’t ask questions. Who probably didn’t even feel the need to ask questions. And if they did, they’d be out the building in a heartbeat.

He knew the way. After the initial meetings, it had taken some time before his employer had been comfortable enough to meet him in his own building again. And before Zayne could use the actual entrance, instead of having to use some back door only used by the garbage collectors. Zayne didn’t know whether the man just didn’t care anymore, had found some excuse and labelled Zayne as an employee or contractor, or whether he was just fed up with having to meet at random places. Probably the latter.

Even if he had been named as an employee, Zayne doubted he'd be on the employee list. As what, exactly? Saboteur? Business opponent strategist? Competition suppressor?

Still, Zayne thought as he walked past the empty offices and dark cubicles, he was probably the number one employee who brought in most of the revenue. Just not in an entirely legitimate way.

Not that he wanted to. And not that he’d ever receive a thank you.

God, how he regretted the day he even got involved in this mess and met this man.

He came to a halt in front of the largest office in the building. Top floor.

He took a deep breathe to calm himself before he knocked. Once inside, he’d have to keep his cool. Stay calm, don’t let him provoke you.

A muffled ‘Yes’ sounded through the door and Zayne entered, stepping inside the luxurious office of Gordon Emery, CEO, owner of the building and the company, and Zayne’s employer for over two years now. Or well… employer? That wouldn’t be Zayne’s choice of words. Maybe ‘exploiter’ was a better term. Asshole extraordinaire even, if you’d ask him.

“You’re late, Zayne.”

Two whole minutes, maybe? Already off to a good irritated start. Stay calm.

Zayne took in the man sitting at the large desk in front of the window, framed by the city lights. He’d probably been stuck to that desk pretty much all day, but he didn’t look it. He sat rigid as a board. His short dark hair was slickly combed back, not a hair out of place. He wore an immaculate dark grey suit with his wine red tie not loosened an inch. And his gaze was as sharp as ever, untainted by fatigue.

Emery hadn’t even looked up when Zayne’d entered, but his cold grey eyes now roamed up, questioning the silence that Zayne left.

Zayne quickly picked up on it. “I’m sorry, sir. I was—“

“With that reporter. Again.”

Zayne froze. He knew better than to ask how he knew, but this wasn’t good.

“I…”

Emery waved a hand. An impatient flick of the wrist that made Zayne go silent immediately. “Don’t. You know I despise liars. Why is that man still alive?”

“Because he’s not a threat. He knows nothing. Not of back then, nor what’s happening now. And certainly knows nothing about you. Sir.”

“He’s a loose end. Everything about that incident two years ago is wrapped up now. Except for him. Take care of it.”

Zayne wet his lips. “With respect… sir. Killing him now will only raise more suspicion. It’s better to leave him be. Besides, he’s not the only—“ he quickly cut himself off.

“What? What was that? Not the only?”

Zayne dawdled, obviously uncomfortable about running his mouth. Fuck this, he should’ve just stuck to the ‘yes sir, no sir’ routine and kept his mouth shut. Now that Jay’s friend, Dennis, was starting to get involved, things started to teeter to the edge of danger again. Jay didn’t know squat. Didn’t even want to know, as far as Zayne knew. He’d tried to see how much Jay knew, but the guy had clammed up. Jay just wanted to block out any memory of the incident and Zayne doubted he was gonna go digging. But Dennis grew more and more suspicious and probably knew more than he’d let on. Probably picked up the trail that was left two years ago and had been the one who called the police, messing things up.

But if he said that… here…

Emery slammed a fist on the desk. “Speak, Zayne!”

Zayne’s eyes slowly slid up to look the man in the eye. A look that, for most people, would send a shiver down their spine. With his head tilted down, his dark eyes flashing in anger slowly glancing up to make direct eye contact. Only now it wasn’t used as intimidation – he knew better here – it only showed his reluctance to answer. This man was not impressed by his dark look.

“I… Jay is…” he strained his brain to come up with anything else. “Jay is not the only loose end. Garrett knows, too.” Well, just a little. Nothing important.

Emery sat back in his leather chair. “I thought your little band was unaware of who employed them. Did you lie to me, Zayne?”

“I had to tell at least one of them where the money came from, otherwise the rest wouldn’t follow.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” the cold voice replied.

Emery’s gaze, fixed on Zayne’s eyes, slid down just a notch to the yellowing bruise on his cheekbone. A small cut, hidden earlier by the dark skin, now broke through and was clearly visible. Zayne winced lightly, as if the sharp gaze actually put pressure on the wound. He cast his eyes down, to the ring on Emery’s right hand that had caught him in a backhanded fist the last time he took too long to answer a question. The man had a short fuse.

Zayne knew better than to falter here, even though he had to suppress a shudder. He glanced up again, feigning a confidence by making direct eye contact.

“No, sir, I did not lie. I told you at the time I would do what was necessary to gain trust. That meant I needed at least one confidant. But I didn’t mention your name.”

A long silence followed.

“I suppose you have a point. You don’t know where Garrett is, do you?”

Zayne shook his head.

“But you do know where the rest of your gang is.”

That unsettled Zayne. With the exception of him and Garrett, everyone had been arrested. They both knew that.

“Where are they, Zayne?” Emery pressed.

“In jail, sir,” Zayne almost whispered.

“And you needed at least one confidant?”

Shit.

“Just one. Just Garret.”

Emery didn’t speak for a few agonizing seconds, but Zayne knew better than to press him. Even though he did not like where this was going. It was easy to throw Garrett under the bus, him not being in the vicinity to contradict this. But the old crew was pure leverage and Zayne didn’t want to put them in any more danger than they already were. The few of them that were left, anyway.

“And your reporter?” Emery finally asked.

“Learned his lesson. Dropped everything to do with that case as soon as he was out of hospital.”

The man hummed. “Maybe I’ll check up on that.”

Zayne opened his mouth to protest, but before he could ask Emery continued.

“To order of business,” Emery changed the subject easily. Too easily for Zayne’s taste after these very subtle threats.

Emery slid a folded piece of paper over his desk and sat back, lacing his fingers together as he watched Zayne pick it up and read it.

“Wait…” Zayne looked up. He recognised the address. “Don’t you own this branch?” That was odd. He mostly struck at property of any competitor who was doing too well. Give them a little setback. Sometimes even random companies where Emery had shorted stocks and could then reap in the profit.

“I don’t think I need to tell you how insurance works. I don’t care how you do it, as long as you leave no traces of it being wilful fire-raising. Short circuit, cigarettes, think of something.”

Yeah, think of something, as if it were that easy. Not leaving any traces was quite hard and would take up quite some time to make sure nothing would raise any eyebrows. Not to mention it was dangerous as he had no one to help him. But Zayne made no protest and slid the paper in his pocket.

“When?” he merely asked.

“As soon as you can arrange for it.” Which pretty much meant ‘within now and three days’, as Zayne had found out shortly after his first task.

“Yes, sir,” he said and turned to leave.

“Oh, and Zayne?”

Zayne stopped and looked back, but the man didn’t speak until he fully faced him again.

“Are you still staying in that old house?”

So much for that secret. “I… yes, sir.”

“It’s being demolished in a few weeks. Find some other arrangements.”

Zayne felt his stomach drop. Other? Like, what? He had nowhere else to go. But adding to the number of favours he owed this man wouldn’t help either. Not when he was so close to getting out. He wouldn’t ask for a replacement. He’d find some solution.

“Of course.”

-

Continued here

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