Stand and Defend (Lakes Hockey Series Book 4)

The project I was assigned to before I was fired was for a company H&H was absorbing, named Bluetower. I managed contracts on the healthcare side of H&H, but Bluetower was IT. I questioned it but was told it was given to me and to push the contract through. It was a small tech startup with some new technology they were working on. Something seemed off, but I couldn’t tell what it was. I never finished researching the project to find out.

Unfortunately, my access is limited to the documents I downloaded to the flash drive the day I was fired, and no one from Bluetower will return my calls. So today I am taking a little field trip.

The parking lot is empty. I double-check the address. This is the place. The building says Bluetower in big bright letters, but it’s the middle of the day and my car is the only one here. I see no security cameras, so I park and get out to take a peek. The windows are wrapped in full-coverage decals that match the website branding, blocking the view inside. I search LinkedIn, employees are listed but even the photos don’t look right. They’re too perfect. They’re all pretty. I don’t mean to stereotype, but what are the odds of an entire team of tech geniuses looking like they stepped out of GQ?

I dial the number for Bluetower one more time. It’s an automated line, but no one answers and all the extensions seem to go in circles. Looks like I will have to bust out the big guns.

I get back in my car and drive to the only payphone left in town and pull out my quarters. Every billionaire worth their salt has a guy. Seven is my family’s guy, and I need him to come through for me on this. I’ve never met him, probably never will. He’s not exactly on the up and up, but it’s not my business. His number is on a piece of paper my parents instructed me to keep in my wallet in case of special emergencies. This emergency is more of a Hail Mary.

It rings twice before he answers. My eyes sweep the surroundings for people. I don’t need anyone eavesdropping on what I’m about to ask.

“Jordana Landry. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

So creepy. I take another glance around and furrow my brow. “How did you know it was me?”

“A good magician never reveals his secrets.”

I don’t even want to know the secrets this guy holds. If someone told me he knew the nuclear launch codes, I wouldn’t blink an eye.

“I need a favor.”