“You know that if I could, it would be you,” he sighs.
“No, it wouldn’t. I’m already someone else’s…even if it is a fucking shit storm.”
Eric nods thoughtfully. The man has been on my side, saved my life and had my back for years; I hate telling him no. But I’m not going to lie to him and promise him a tomorrow for us that will never exist.
“Your absence is going to be noticed in a minute. I’ll come by first thing tomorrow for the tablet.”
“Okay,” I say and climb out of the limo.
“Good luck, Emmy,” he calls through the open limo door.
I offer him a small smile before turning around and heading back inside.
Tristan is still waiting for me as I walk across the lobby, but the crowds have thinned significantly.
“Everyone has been seated,” he answers my unspoken question. “Are you okay? What did Jackson say to you?”
“Something that will see him permanently on my shit list.”
“Why was Eric outside?”
My parents and Tristan saw Eric on several occasions during their visits to the West Coast.
I pause for a moment to think about how to answer this and settle on honesty – as much as I can, given the confidential nature, but I trust Tristan.
“Jackson called me a murdering bitch because of my involvement in a mission that went badly resulting in his cousin’s death. His cousin was a nasty piece of work, which Jackson is conveniently overlooking. But he’s asking questions and knows the official report is a cover-up. What he doesn’t know is that it was covered up to protect his kind, and now I need to show him the real file to stop him from digging any deeper and unleashing a world of unpleasant problems.”
“That’s about as far from what I was expecting as you can get.”
“Let me guess, you thought it was more relationship drama from our painful little saga,” I say dryly.
“Something like that,” he smiles, leads me into the ballroom and towards our table where everyone is already seated.
My mother is eyeing my empty seat worryingly, while next to her dad is talking to Jackson; just the sight of him makes my blood boil at his hurtful words.
“The medical implications are indeed spectacular and there are other areas of potential development that my company would have a vested interest in developing...” Jackson trails off as I take my seat between Alex and Tristan. Obviously, he thought our conversation would have me running home early.
Not today, Smoak. Not today.
“What sort of ‘potential development’ are you envisioning, Mr. Smoak?” my father asks.
“The technology has positive implications for people, such as me,” he says more quietly than before, conscious that we are in public and he is referring to non-human topics.
I know exactly which project Jackson is referring to; my father acquired a medical research company and one of the more promising projects is synthetic blood. A blood substitute designed for humans who require blood transfusions, given that such a small percentage of people donate blood. Obviously, this research has far-reaching implications for ending Avidite dependency on human blood donations.
“And I have an interest in seeing that its development happens in a way that is considered, in the best interest of my kind and is therefore above reproach and transparent,” Jackson continues. “Honesty and truthful reporting have not been at the forefront with regards to my kind and I want to ensure that we have a fair shot at benefiting from this technology, instead of being sidelined and any potential benefits getting shelved.”
My father nods, looking perplexed at the edge to Jackson’s voice and Alex just looks outright confused, glancing between Jackson and me.
“Mr. Smoak is making a snide remark about the mission report for Astor,” I say as nonchalantly as possible to Alex.
Every pair of eyes are now on me and I’m smug at the sight of Jackson stunned into stillness with his fork halfway to his mouth.
“Mr. Smoak believes the Corps covered up the mission to conceal the murder of his cousin, who he believes I killed.”
“Oh, is that all,” Alex says sarcastically.
I turn my attention to Jackson.
“I’m not sure how willing my family will be to go into business with you when you so recently called me a ‘crazy, murdering bitch’, and as I have some oversight on that project, my opinion matters. Given your automatically low opinion of me, I’m surprised you even want to venture into business with us. Given your attitude and treatment of me this evening, I would happily have very little to do with you,” I say flatly.
“I knew this evening would end badly the minute I saw that seating chart,” my mom says. Dad just looks at Jackson, who looks suitably uncomfortable and won’t take his eyes off me.
“Did he really call you that?” fumes Dee and I nod; Astor was traumatic for everyone who had the misfortune of being in that fight.
“Asshole,” spits Alex through gritted teeth. “If you only knew what that mission put us through.”
“Well thanks to Eric, he will,” I say and place the tablet on the table in front of me. “You wanted answers, Mr. Smoak – not that you waited to hear any after your tirade earlier – you’re in luck. These are the original, unedited files and I’ve been given permission to show you everything that happened that night.”
“Eric willingly handed it over?” asks Dee.
“He doesn’t want Mr. Smoak as an enemy determined to look into things that were covered for the benefit of him and his kind. We all know why the truth can’t get out, but if Jackson keeps tugging on this string, the whole thing will unravel,” I look pointedly at Jackson knowing full well that with his supernatural hearing, he can hear me even though I’ve spoken quietly to Dee.
“We nearly lost Emilia that day; she nearly died to put an end to a fucked-up situation that would have cost you and your pretty girlfriend your freedom. Did you dig up that information?” Alex hisses, his anger palpable. No matter how many times I tell him otherwise, he carries around a small amount of guilt for what happened to me that day.
“I think we should continue this conversation somewhere a little more private. I take it this place has a conference room?” I ask Jackson.
“I think that would be wise, follow me,” he says quietly.
I stand to follow but stop him before he gets very far.
My parents and Tristan are smart enough to realize this isn’t for their ears…Sonya is too stupid to catch on.
“Only you, Jackson,” I say and tilt my chin in her direction. “She doesn’t have clearance.”
Sonya looks pissed…and I wish I could say I was a bigger person and didn’t’ take pleasure from the sour look on her face...but then I’d be lying.
“Seriously?” she huffs. It’s the first time I’ve heard her speak and her voice hasn’t improved over the years; it’s still as grating as always.
She continues to grumble as I walk away; for a second I’m grateful I have a reason to leave her sitting at the table…then I remember what I’m about to face instead.
Chapter Nineteen
Dee, Alex and I silently follow Jackson out of the ballroom, down another polished marble hallway and through a set of imposing dark wood double doors. Inside is a typically executive and somewhat generic conference room – complete with a far too long, dark contemporary table surrounded by oversized leather chairs.