“At least admit that you’re trying to stick it to Grandfather.”
“He’s in his eighties and recovering from a heart attack.” I’d never wish harm on my family or their business. In fact, I’d offered to help many times—loans, consultants, and equipment—but they were too proud to accept. Grandfather had made it clear when I was younger that he would never allow a woman to run the family business. Timber, he said, was for men.
Neither Cedric nor Calvin was interested in taking over.
My little brothers did not have a ton of direction. And Dad still hadn’t forgiven Cedric for dropping out of law school.
Mostly, they trained and competed in timbersports competitions. Not that I was criticizing their work ethic or their talents. They had both qualified for the professional circuit, but neither was successful enough yet to make a career out of it.
That meant my dad didn’t have a son who wanted the responsibility of the family legacy. Though he did have a daughter interested, he refused to even consider it.
Memories of his constant criticism flashed through my brain, his anger that I was too emotional after my mother died. The way he’d pushed me away, never acknowledging my achievements or hard work.
It was a raw, open wound, but it was one I’d long ago put out of my mind. I had a lot of unfinished business in Maine, and I knew better than to hope for closure there.
Story of my life. Over and over, the men I’d trusted and loved had let me down. It was hardly a unique tale of woe.
Unfortunately, Gus Hebert was proving more difficult to deal with than I had anticipated. In my mind, when I showed up, he would cower, do everything I said, and fade into the background as I kicked ass all day.
Instead, he was everywhere, questioning my every move, wearing a constant frown. Making his disapproval clear and rescuing me at town meetings. Bastard.
But the Chloe LeBlanc who had returned was not the delicate girl who had left. Nope, I was harder now. Stronger and meaner and more determined than ever.
I had goals. And no one, especially not my ex-husband, was gonna get in my way.
Chapter 8Gus
This was tense.
Outside, the sun was shining, yet I was stuck inside with a bunch of suits, chasing the ghosts of my father’s bad deeds. The lawyers had advised us to listen and not say much, and they’d emphasize the importance of not agreeing to anything.
I’d naïvely assumed that this was all in the past. Fuck, was I wrong. But though I could handle it—I was hardly the first son to be plagued by the sins of his father—Chloe didn’t deserve this.
Special Agent Bryce Portnoy, who gave off major asshole vibes, led the meeting. He was physically unassuming but acted like he was the smartest person in the room. When he launched into a detailed explanation of the logging industry like Chloe and I hadn’t been involved with it our entire lives, my eye twitched and I had to focus on breathing even to keep from cursing.
“We’re picking up increased trafficking activity across the border, specifically near the St. Zacharie border crossing.”
The legal team had flown in from Seattle two days ago and had been reviewing information with us nonstop since. From what I’d seen so far, not a single one of them slept. Jude joked that they were Twilight vampires. I didn’t get the reference, but JJ and Karl thought he was hilarious.
Karl had kept everyone fed and watered and had even converted the main conference room, which had previously been filled with folding tables and cardboard boxes, into a functional space. I hadn’t quite figured out what his job title was, but he kept Chloe caffeinated, and he was damn good at anticipating her needs and completing any task he was given.
The FBI agents sat on one side of the folding tables we’d pushed together. I sat on the other, flanked by Chloe, Jude, Mark—the accountant Owen had helped us hire—and our lawyers. I’d only been here for thirty minutes, and my tie was already strangling me.
Agent Portnoy droned on, making it sound like Al Capone had been operating under our noses, while our lawyers furiously typed notes.
Why we were rehashing details we’d gone over at least a dozen times with the same federal agents was beyond me. No one here was a criminal mastermind, and my father and several of his associates were already behind bars. I wanted to help, sure, but at some point, we had to move forward and rebuild this business if we wanted to keep this community from tanking.
I wasn’t sure when it had happened, but I’d clearly become part of that we. Since the moment Strategic Timber had made their offer and stipulated that I stay on to help, I’d been resolute—I was here as a run-of-the-mill employee. I’d do my job, then get out. But at some point since Chloe arrived, my perspective had begun to shift. Maybe it was seeing her in action and learning more about her plans and techniques. Or maybe it was that I was a dumbass who could not let go of this company.
So I was invested again. Fuck. I didn’t want to be, but here I was, ready to fight for its future. All over again. And that was dangerous. I’d been burned so badly once before, by my father, and I had spent years trying to heal those wounds.
I’d worshiped my father. Until I didn’t.
He’d always been an ass. But for so long, I’d been blind to it.
He was angry and he could be cruel. He used people for his own ends and didn’t care what kind of destruction he left in his wake.
There were signs, when I was a kid, especially the way he treated Owen, but he’d manipulated me from such a young age that it took me a really long time—till my early thirties really—to understand, to see him for who he really was, and to start to detach.
But a criminal? When the news had first broken, that was a bridge too far.
I didn’t believe it, and I’d even defended him. We’d worked together; I’d been so involved.
But the more I learned, the more it made sense.
Despite how hard I worked, despite proving myself to him over and over again, he and Uncle Paul had kept me at arm’s length. Had kept me from finally stepping in and working side by side with them.
They’d send me out into the woods for weeks at a time rather than giving me a seat at the table.
For a long time, I believed I’d run the company someday.
I knew I’d have to work for it, so I did.
Every skill, license, and certification, I got it.
Dad always pushed me. Go to this trade show. Go learn about this machinery. So I did.
