Even so, having Adam or another of my security with me had become natural.
And then, about three months ago, it became a necessity.
First there were unexplainable coincidences. I blew them off as nerves or stress. There were always fires and deadlines.
And then the break-in.
I traveled too much to have a pet.
In reality, I was probably too selfish for a pet, but that was a truth I had yet to explore with my therapist. I found a happy medium. The tropical fish tank in my home reminded me of the blue waters of the Caribbean, while snowcapped mountains glistened under the Montana blue sky, the place I currently called home.
I’d grown fond of the aquarium and its inhabitants. I’d even named the clown fish. No, it wasn’t Nemo. His name was Bozo, after a clown on television in Chicago during my childhood.
One day when I arrived home from a business trip, the front door of my home was ajar.
Even in the warm tub, the memory made my skin clammy.
Adam entered the house first. Once it was determined that there was no immediate threat, he led me inside. We walked in silence from room to room as the feeling I’d had years ago came back to me.
Violated.
This time it wasn’t my body, and yet it felt just as personal.
The power had been turned off, rendering my security system and cameras useless. My home office had been ransacked, computers stolen, and screens smashed.
The large tank that separated my office from the living room had been electrocuted, essentially frying my beloved fish, including Bozo. The potent stench lingered in the house long after the tank was restored.
The new fish didn’t have names.
Whomever the intruder was, he or she hadn’t given up the torment.
Every now and again, a fish was delivered in the mail or left on my doorstep. Sometimes to my home and other times to my office. The fish were always tropical and always dead. Adam and his team made improvements—added cameras and alarms.
Three weeks ago, I received a box of candy with a handwritten note. The chocolate pieces had been injected with cyanide. Following the urging of the police and my associates, I left the country for one week. It gave the investigators time to work and me, distance.
Despite the luxury of my warm bath, I rarely took time for myself. The fact that I was smiling at the memories meant it was a good week. When I returned home, I hit the ground running. That was what brought me to New York.
Missoula was a beautiful city where nature was always near. No longer did I run or bike alone. I hated every minute of feeling smothered. And yet I refused to stop living because someone had me in their sights. The reality was that while I’d clawed my way to the top, I’d made friends and enemies.
The current theory was that someone wanted revenge.
I knew the feeling.
It was being on this side that was new.
Chapter Three
Chandler
Three weeks ago
Out on the balcony, I lifted my face toward the blue sky and closed my eyes. The sounds of the ocean filled my ears as the salty breeze brushed my skin. And yet I couldn’t enjoy it; my thoughts were too consumed.
Concentrate on the positive.
That was what my father would say.
Opening my eyes, I took one more step toward the railing. The metal, warmed by the sun, singed my palm, and still, I gripped the edge and looked down. Twenty stories below was a crystal blue pool that wound around the beachfront, complete with palm trees and umbrellas. Some of the loungers were along the pool’s edge while others were partially submerged.
“Multimillionaire plunges to his death at five-star Caribbean resort.”
The thought made me smile.
It wasn’t that I wanted to jump, but the thought was there.
“Positive, CJ,” I said to the breeze.
My bank account contained more money than I’d ever imagined.
Hell, at only thirty-one years of age, I could retire. I’d need to invest well, but it would be possible. I could go back to Ohio and live a life like my parents—walks in the park, swimming at the city pool, Tuesday night dinners at the Moose, and summers spent watching the Reds.
I could be like the commercial said and become my parents.
My grip of the railing tightened.
Becoming the people who raised my brother and me was never the goal for either of us. They were good, hardworking people who loved their simple existence. The path Colton and I took wasn’t to become wealthy. It was to do more than our father and grandfather. Never in our wildest dreams did we think that we’d become a major or even minor player in the world of virtual reality.
We started with a concept to improve gaming.
With my degree in computer and information technology and Colton’s in numerical analysis, we had the basic concepts covered. Together, we founded Architech, spending nights and weekends until we found what we liked, what we couldn’t find anywhere else. It was the entire experience of virtual gaming, utilizing all the senses. We imagined pitching the idea to one of the top gaming companies and sent out a few feelers.
The long and the short of it was that our technology was sought after by an even larger market. Hotels, art galleries, and museums were only a few of the interested parties. The next year was spent securing our patent. The expenses increased exponentially, yet we weren’t ready to give up. We rented space and began manufacturing. With time the number of employees grew.
My life was filled with development, production, distribution...the list went on and on.
And now it’s all gone.
A week ago, Colton and I signed away our baby, what we’d put our hearts and souls into at the expense of what many considered a normal life. Venus Holdings came out of nowhere with an offer that we couldn’t refuse. The representative we dealt with was a man named Jeremy Wilde. It wasn’t only the money that made the deal special. Venus offered to retain some of our employees.
More money and securing our employees’ future—at least for a little while—was a compromise we were both willing to make. Our employees were people who took a chance on two young men thinking outside the box. Selling Architech should benefit them as well as us.
The vibration of my phone pulled me from my thoughts. My brother’s name was on the screen. “Colt,” I said, after a swipe of the green icon.
“Living the life?”
I scoffed as I looked out to the horizon. “I’m bored out of my fucking mind.”
“How long have you been in Cancún?”
“An hour or so.”
Colton laughed. “You’re not bored. You haven’t started to enjoy yourself.”
“What if Venus fucks it all up?” I didn’t need to explain ‘it.’ My brother and I’d had this conversation a thousand different ways.
“They won’t. Jeremy said that Venus has the assets to get the software and hardware to a global level. Man, we both agreed. That’s why I called. The third installment just hit our account. While you’re gone, I’ll do the math and figure out the severance packages for anyone who Venus doesn’t retain.”
More money.
Why didn’t this make me happy?
Cool air hit me as I entered the bedroom of my suite and pulled the glass door closed behind me. I ran my free hand over my chin-length hair, realizing I hadn’t tethered it back this morning before catching my flight. My chin and cheeks were stubbly. In all honesty, I barely made it to the gate in time. My heart wasn’t in this getaway.