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Revenge Best Served Hot

A Men of the Zodiac Novel

Entangled Publishing, LLC

Revenge might have been a dish best served cold, but in the dozen years since Brody Flynn had lost his mother and stepfather in an "accident," his outrage hadn't cooled by a single degree.

Even after a court of law had found Douglass Shipping Solutions not criminally liable, Brody had remained determined to make the owner of the company pay for the unrealistic deadlines and cost-cutting measures that had turned the company's fleet of semis into death machines careening down the public roadways.

Jonathon Douglass's corporate-fed greed ultimately was responsible for killing Brody's parents and leaving him to raise his younger half sisters on his own. But Brody was nothing if not practical. It wasn't in his nature to go off half-cocked, as angry as he had been at the time — as angry as he continued to be. So, he'd bided his time, waited for the perfect opportunity to exact his revenge.

And now that opportunity had come.

Finally.

Poetically, in fact.

Perspiration beaded Jonathon's brow, and he swallowed almost convulsively. Both reactions bore silent testament to the man's nerves. Whereas more than a decade ago the deaths of two people and the subsequent orphaning of their children had failed to shake the man's composure in public, here, in the privacy of his well- appointed office, the prospect of losing his company in a hostile takeover had him sweating like a common laborer.

Well, let the bastard squirm.

"I'm asking you again to reconsider," the older man said. He added the word "please" almost as an afterthought. Men as wealthy and powerful as Jonathon Douglass rarely had to fall back on good manners and common courtesy in their business dealings. Unless they were desperate.

Brody made a steeple with his fingers in front of him, enjoying the spectacle. "And I'm telling you again, no. Sorry," he added, but only after a pause that made it clear he was anything but.

Jonathon closed his eyes briefly and bowed his head. A small but discernible patch of scalp was visible on his crown. None of the photographs Brody had seen of the man over the years had hinted at vulnerability, much less mortality. Hell, Jonathon had seemed to defy time with his youthful face, dark hair, and overly white smile. But here, now, after having lost a company that three generations of his family had worked to build, he looked every day of his sixty-two years.

Brody stood. "I believe our business is concluded."

"Finished is a more appropriate description," the older man said on a snort.

Brody only smiled. "The board is waiting."

Their next meeting in the conference room down the hall was a mere formality. Both men knew it. When he reached the door, Jonathon stopped him by laying a hand on his arm.

"I have just one question."

"I think I've already answered all of your questions," Brody replied before casting a meaningful glance in the direction of the man's hand.

Jonathon shook his head even as he removed his hand. "You haven't answered this one."

Brody hesitated a moment before nodding.

"Why did you do this?"

Seriously? The man wanted to know why?

Anger boiled up inside Brody, but he didn't allow it to boil over. He never allowed it to boil over. He was too careful for that, too controlled to lose his temper. A former girlfriend had attributed his nature to his zodiac sign. Virgos, apparently, were known to be meticulous as well as possessing less desirable traits, such as being overly critical and even harsh. In truth, he could be all those things. But when it came to business, he figured they served him well. It was best to keep one's emotions in check. Even in this, with the need for vengeance fueling his actions, Brody had approached the takeover as analytically as a chess player would while working his way toward his opponent's king.

When Brody didn't answer right away, Jonathon added, "I get the feeling it's personal."

"Personal?" Brody said the word slowly, allowing his tongue to roll over each syllable. It took an effort to keep his expression impassive. Still, he couldn't resist giving the knife he'd just inserted one final, brutal twist. "Sometimes tragic things happen. In time you learn to accept what can't be changed."

Jonathon frowned, appearing puzzled by the unsolicited advice. It was clear he didn't remember that he'd spoken those very words to reporters after a court had ruled — erroneously, in Brody's opinion — that neither he nor his company would be held criminally responsible for Stuart and Teresa Abbott's accident. A generous payment had been issued to the Abbotts' family with the condition the matter be dropped. As the lawyer had explained to Brody at the time, it was better than what they could hope to wring out of either Jonathon or his company in a civil trial.

"Take the money. Try to put this tragedy behind you," the lawyer had advised.

As if that were possible.

Blood money, that was what it had been, but Brody, who'd been twenty-two at the time, had agreed to the settlement. He'd had two younger sisters to raise.

"So, it's strictly business," Jonathon said. But he looked far from convinced.

He didn't owe the man answers. He didn't owe him anything.

With a shrug, Brody pulled open the door and strode out, only to find himself nose to forehead with the pretty young brunette he'd spied around the office a couple of times now. She backed up a step, but not before their bodies had thumped together. The collision wasn't exactly unpleasant. Her soft curves made certain of that. But her identity, as well as the severe frown that had her lips drawn into an upside down U, had Brody taking a quick step back.

Katherine Douglass, Jonathon's daughter and only child. According to Brody's intel, she was twenty-nine, with a master's degree in business administration from Northwestern University, where she'd also earned an undergraduate degree in transportation and logistics and graduated in the top 10 percent of her class.

As impressive as she was beautiful. But she was his enemy's daughter, which also made her off-limits.

Her attire was no-nonsense, as was the way she wore her hair, pulled away from her oval face in a ponytail that trailed halfway down her back. Her father called her by her full name, but seeing her in business attire made Brody wonder if anyone ever referred to her as Kathy or Kate or by some other, less regal-sounding moniker. Right now she didn't look much the heiress she was.

She'd been surprisingly quiet during the board meetings Brody had attended, perhaps because she wasn't an actual member. She'd sat in at her father's behest, but apparently only to take notes and pour coffee. A waste of her skills, if her background check was any indication. Brody didn't think she much cared for her roles as gofer and observer, given the way her jaw had clenched whenever other members were given an opportunity to comment.

In fact, during their admittedly brief acquaintance, he hadn't heard her say more than a couple of words. But she did now, sputtering them out in disjointed fashion as she struggled to regain composure.

"M-Mr. Flynn! My apologies. I didn't mean to ... I was just ..."

She drew her hand to the very chest that a moment earlier had brushed against his. Brody's intel had failed to mention that she smelled like fresh linen or that when she blinked, one eye tended to close more slowly than the other one.

"That's all right. No harm done." He caught himself before he could add it had been his pleasure. Even though it had been. Entirely. "Was there something you wanted?"

"Wanted?" she repeated blankly. Her gaze had dropped to his tie, and he watched her eyes widen as she realized what was printed on it. "Are those ... wolves?"

"Gray ones." He stroked the strip of silk that sported slashes of the predatory animal. "They were an endangered species not long ago, but have since made an astonishing comeback." He turned and smiled at her father, who cleared his throat.

"Katherine," Jonathon said, "is there something you need?"

"Yes. The board sent me to find out how much longer you would be."

"We're done here." Her father's tone was flat, deflated.

Even so, Brody couldn't help using the man's own word in amending, "Yes, finished."

Jonathon flushed scarlet. "Let's get this over with," he muttered before stalking down the hall.

Katherine turned abruptly and followed on her father's heels, but not before Brody saw her eyes widen in apprehension. She knew her father was, professionally speaking, headed for the gallows. And, as Jonathon's daughter, that meant her days at the company were numbered, too. He wouldn't keep her on, despite her impressive credentials.

Brody couldn't and wouldn't feel bad about that.

In the boardroom, he returned to the seat he'd previously occupied at one end of the table. Jonathon took the opposite end. Katherine's chair was to the right of her father's, but back against the wall. Their proximity made it easy for Brody to watch both their expressions as the board formally voted to approve the sale of Douglass Shipping Solutions to Brody and then to oust Jonathon.

The same two members of the board dissented both times. Brody wasn't surprised. He'd figured some loyalty would come into play. Apparently Katherine had expected more. As her father bowed his head, she shot to her feet.

"That's it? Only Benson and Hobbs are standing with my father after everything my family has done for you?"

"Katherine," her father began.

But she was at his side now and thumped a fist on the table. "We made you rich! When times were good, you were only too happy to reap the benefits. Now you're jumping ship, joining with this ... this vulture!"

The insult echoed in the quiet room. Vulture, hmm? Brody wasn't nearly as offended as he was intrigued. He hadn't expected her to have quite so much spunk.

"Katherine, that's enough," her father said.

Brody didn't agree. "No. Continue. I'm curious to hear what you have to say. This was your family's company, and you still own 15 percent of its stock. I insist. Get everything off your chest." His gaze flicked involuntarily to her breasts as he said it. He might have regretted the unprofessional gesture if the flush staining her cheeks when he met her eye again hadn't been quite so alluring.

"Well, since you insist."

She smiled beautifully before giving it to Brody with both barrels.

* * *

Kate suppressed the urge to scream. That hadn't been a meeting so much as a bloodletting. And leave it to her to tick off the man wielding the blade.

After the meeting ended, Flynn rose from his seat and left so abruptly she wasn't able to catch him before he boarded an elevator. When she reached it, the doors quite literally closed in her face; the man standing inside did nothing to stop them. His arms remained folded over his broad chest, his gaze as defiant as it had been when he had announced plans to give several key managers their walking papers.

"I'll be cleaning house when I take over first thing on Monday," he'd said. "When I'm done here, there won't be any dead weight."

After he'd said so, his gaze had lingered on Kate just long enough that her temper had gotten the best of her a second time. Now, in addition to swallowing her pride in the hope of keeping her job, she owed him an apology.

Well, so be it. Kate wasn't one to give up without a fight. If she had been, she would be married to Collin Overton or some equally boring blowhard, donating her time and expertise to a suitable nonprofit and nursing cocktails in the trendy High Tower Lounge with the ladies of the Old Chicago Altruism Society three afternoons a week.

That was the lifestyle her father had in mind for her, one that mirrored that of Kate's stepmother. Kate, however, had no desire to join the ranks of the idle rich. She'd be damned if, after all of her hard work and effort, she'd wind up among them now by default.

By the time she reached the building's parking structure, she was out of breath. "Mr. Flynn! Mr. Flynn, wait!" she hollered when she spotted him.

He was halfway across the garage, his long stride making it impossible for her to catch him without breaking into a run, which she did. Twice more she had to call his name before his steps slowed. When he finally stopped and turned, he didn't look pleased.

As she closed the last few yards of distance between them, he continued to eye her with annoyance, but Kate was too desperate to allow herself to be intimidated.

"I'm in a hurry," he bit out with a cursory glance at the pricey watch strapped to his wrist. Just above it, she caught a glint of diamonds in his French cuffs. She'd always thought of diamonds as a cold gem, but they had nothing on the ice of his crystal-blue eyes. Even the dark lashes that fringed them couldn't soften their intensity. Nor did the firm set of his mouth — a pair of nicely formed lips notwithstanding. His fierce good looks were not helping her cause.

Trying her best to ignore them, she said, "I only need a moment of your time."

"A moment? Really?" Half of that sexy mouth quirked up in a smile that held little mirth. In fact, it bordered on insolent. "I have yet to meet a woman who needs only a moment, regardless of the situation."

Kate gritted her teeth, irritated that, in this case at least, he was right. She would require a lot more than a few minutes to convince Brody Flynn that he needed her. Even so, she offered what she hoped was her most charming smile and replied, "You're right, Mr. Flynn. It might take a little longer than a moment."

Before she could suggest they schedule a proper meeting, however, he said, "If you're hoping to try to change my mind about the takeover, you can save your breath. The deal is done, my objective met. I have exactly what I want."

It was an odd thing to say. Stranger yet was his expression. For a man who had just gotten his way, he appeared a far cry from satisfied. He just looked ... frustrated.

"Are you sure?" she asked before she could think better of it. His feelings and moods were none of her concern. She shook her head. "I mean, I'm not going to try to change your mind."

"No?" He seemed genuinely surprised by that. "You were pretty vocal upstairs in the boardroom. What was it you called me?"

She felt her face heat as she mumbled, "I was under duress."

Brody went on as if she hadn't spoken. "A vulture, wasn't it? Among other things."

Those other things had been even less palatable, and they both knew it. But she'd been so exasperated, not only with him, but also with the board for not standing with her family.

Kate sucked in a breath and nodded. She wasn't feeling so much chastened as she was desperate when she asked, "Can you blame me? This company has been in my family for three generations. I'd always hoped that I would take my father's place one day." Even if her father, who still treated her like a child and tried to shelter her from the harsh realities of the corporate world, had had other ideas. "As it is, I've had to work my ass off to get where I am."

"Nepotism got you where you are," Brody replied flatly. "You're the boss's daughter, Miss Douglass."

"Which means I've had to prove myself not only to him, but to everyone else here. My last name hasn't gotten me a free pass. If anything, it's ensured that I receive additional scrutiny, even if I have better credentials, better ideas, and more balls than some of those higher in management."

His eyebrows notched up at that last part. Kate squared her shoulders and went on. "Douglass Shipping has lost a lot of ground the past couple of years, but it's far from hopeless. I know you didn't come out and say that you plan to break up the business so you can sell off the more profitable hubs and do away with those that are barely turning a profit, but I think we both know that's what you're thinking."

"Now you can read my thoughts?"

"I can read, and that's what the business pages are reporting is likely to happen. It would be a mistake for you to do that, though."

A pair of dark eyebrows lifted as he chided, "I thought you weren't going to try to change my mind."

"I'm not. You own the company. It's yours to do with what you will and to hire who you will." She paused and had to swallow before she could go on. "I accept that."

"Do you?"

A small scoffing sound escaped from the back of her throat. "I'm a realist, Mr. Flynn. And I think you are, too."

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Excerpted from Revenge Best Served Hot by Jackie Braun, Stacy Abrams, Lydia Sharp. Copyright © 2015 Jackie Braun Fridline. Excerpted by permission of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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