Tropical Storm - DK1 (6 page)

Dar’s writing was strong and to the point; she could almost hear the words coming from the older woman, and surprisingly, they were lacking the condescension she’d half expected. Her final point answered, she let her eyes drop to the sign-off and blinked. “What?” She read it again.

Corporate policy states that all personnel achieve a reasonable amount of sleep in every twenty-four hour period. Please adhere to the regulations from now on.

DR

“What’s that supposed to mean? What is she, some kind of lunatic? She gives me a crazy deadline of one stupid week to do something in, then says to make sure I sleep?” Kerry let out a vexed sigh, then set up a reply and cut most of the message out, except the header and the last line. “Okay, Ms. Wise Guy Alien from Mars, take that.” She highlighted the time on Dar’s header and made it boldface, then dropped down below the executive’s last line and typed in a comment. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

With a smirk, she sent the message, then turned off her monitor and trudged over to the lamp, shutting it off and heading into her bedroom. It featured a neatly made double-sized bed covered with a striped comforter in southwestern colors against one wall under the small window, a five-drawer dresser against one wall, and a long, three-drawer dresser with a half-height mirror, all in white wood. The carpet was a pale blue pile, and she wriggled her toes into its softness with a contented sigh as she crossed the floor, then climbed into bed and got under the covers.

She could see the stars from there, and she watched them twinkle, trying to dispel the awful feeling of doom that had sat on her chest since Dar’s visit.

For her people, sure, she felt horrible, and hoped she could help them. But for herself… She glanced around the neat bedroom and swallowed, remembering how good she’d felt when she finally got things just how she wanted them, and how proud she was of how nice everything looked. She liked it here. Her neighbors were nice and the complex was friendly; there was a mall close by for shopping; and she even had a little grill on the porch for when a few friends came over and barbecued.

It was so nice to be out on her own. No one questioned if she stayed up late or stayed out. No one questioned how she dressed, or who she talked to.

She was…very happy here.

Now this.

Part of her hated the corporation. Part of her also wanted to hate Dar Roberts, who applied the corporation’s polices with such obvious relish. They felt large, impersonal, and scornful of anything she might try to do. And yet…

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Melissa Good
Kerry sighed. It was obvious Dar was smart; she had an air about her that made Kerry believe she didn’t get crossed much, and when she did, the results were unpredictable. But on the tour, she’d asked some very sharp questions, and those incredible blue eyes hadn’t missed much.

Whoa. Incredible? What am I thinking here?
Kerry firmly closed her own eyes, and pulled the blanket up around her chin.
The only thing incredible about
Dar Roberts is her incredible arrogance. So there.

“MORNING.” DAR NODDED at her companions on the elevator as the doors slid shut and it started on its way up. She got polite murmurs back from the mostly junior staff who came in at this time of the morning. Eight AM was the start time for most of the data entry clerks and the administrative staff, and they all were somewhat in awe of her and not inclined to chatter in her presence.

She left them at lower levels and proceeded up to the fourteenth floor in solitude, waiting for the doors to open, then stepping out onto the executive level. Her office was on one corner, the windows wrapping around to give her a view of both the ocean and the skyline, and she pushed her way through the door to the outer office with a sigh. “Morning, Maria.”

Her secretary turned and smiled. “Good morning, Dar. It is much nicer in here today, let me tell you. I don’t know what miracle from Our Lady happened last night, but it is good.” She finished sprinkling a little water on the plant near her desk, then went to the small counter nearby. “I’ll get you some coffee. I’m glad you weren’t here yesterday.”

Dar smiled quietly and went into her inner office, setting her briefcase down and powering up her desk system.
After three hours of sleep, coffee is
definitely a good idea,
she decided, sitting down with a sigh and running her fingers through her hair. The machine beeped, then requested her logon, which she provided impatiently, pressing the keys with a smooth motion. Her mail came up, and she scrolled through the morning’s messages, stopping when she saw a response from a name that was almost familiar by now.

She read it, then smiled. “Short but sweet.”
And the kid has a sense of humor
too
, she noted, seeing the boldface. She was still smiling when Maria walked in, carrying a small tray and putting it down on Dar’s desk. “Ooo…what do we have here?” She arched an eyebrow at the secretary.

Maria looked at her with a severe frown. “Carisita is telling me Gerardo in the cleaning staff is getting these for you special, because you stay here all last night to fix everything. Is that true, Dar?”

Dar deftly snagged one of the brown, layered pastries on the tray and bit into it. “Mmm.” She loved
pastelitos,
the Cuban specialties that could contain almost anything, but usually featured flaky layers stuffed with cheese, or meat, or minced ham. These were the latter, but Dar had also spotted some guava and cheese, which were her second favorites.

“Dar?” Maria tapped her neatly manicured and painted a startling shade of red fingernails on the desktop.

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Melissa Good

“Someone had to, Maria.” The executive shrugged, finishing one treat and selecting another. “Besides, these made it worth it. Where does he get them? They’re great.”

The Spanish woman sighed. “You are too much, I think.” She pushed the tray over. “Here, I have to type up those letters about the service changes.”

She bustled towards the door, closing it behind her and leaving her boss in private with her treats.

Dar read the rest of her mail while finishing the pastries and draining the large coffee Maria had brought with them. She muttered as she answered most of it, sending back terse replies, and one instance of just a single word,

“Bullshit.”

The phone buzzed. “Dar, I have Alastair on
numero uno
for you.” There was a slight pause, “Oh.
Numero dos
.”

The tall woman rolled her eyes. “All right.” She punched the button.

“How’s things in Houston, Alastair?”

“I have no idea,” the cheerful voice answered. “I’m in Troy. I hope they’re sweating their asses off down there. How’s it going with Associated?”

“Not bad. I broke the news to them yesterday, and I’m waiting for the fallout,” Dar replied. “I figure a quarter of them will just take off voluntarily and solve half my problem for me.”

A low chuckle emerged from the phone. “That’s my Dar.” He coughed slightly. “I hear we had a problem down there?”

“Minor.” Dar shrugged it off. “Some idiot backed a fork loader into the switchroom back entrance and took out six punch-down panels, along with the hardware for controlling the air conditioning.” She leaned back, crossing her arms. “I had to raise a little hell.”

“I heard,” Alastair replied. “I had the president of the building association on my line this morning. He’s an old classmate of mine.”

Connections.
Dar sighed. They never ended. Whatever you did, you eventually had to hear about it somewhere down the line. “And?” She waited for the reprimand.

“And I told him he was lucky you didn’t personally come and get him and kick his ass,” the CEO told her cheerfully. “You did the right thing, Dar, good work.”

Dar absorbed the compliment with a quiet smile. “Thanks.” It didn’t happen often. In fact, she could remember hearing those words exactly six times in as many years from this man. Alastair was a pain in the ass, but he’d stuck by her all these years, and she felt more than a little quiet affection for him. “I had to do it,” she added. “Damn com center doesn’t have an AC

backup, and it’s my budget that wouldn’t let that squeak through this year.”

“Ah.” Alastair grunted. “Well, you’ve got those diesels on steroids down there, Dar. Reasonable to think that’s all you’d need.”

“Don’t make excuses for me,” Dar said. “I fire people for smaller goofs than that.”

“Sorry, Dar. Not going to fire you today. I’ve got enough problems on my plate already,” her boss replied. “Go buy yourself a chiller. Put it on my discretionary account, and tell Bea I said so. Okay?”

“Mmm.” Dar leaned back in her chair and regarded the phone with a
Tropical Storm
27

faint smile. “All right.”

“Now, I got a little problem.” Alastair’s voice dropped a little. “I need you to go to the DC office, shake them up a little. Peter Weyhousen is botching the contract talks with the Pentagon. Can you take them up for him?”

Damn.
“I thought you wanted me to concentrate on Associated?” she objected. “Can’t do that from DC.”

“Sure you can. You’ve got the most testosterone-laden laptop in the entire corporation, Dar,” Alastair chided her. “National’s a great place to get work done while you’re waiting…I should know.” He shifted the phone, causing it to crackle. “He’s going to lose that account, Dar, and we need it. A few days away will give Associated a chance to settle down, anyway.”

True.
“I’ve got someone working on a budget plan for them. Might be good to give them a few days to work things out,” she conceded. “When are the talks?”

“Can you fly out tonight? They’re scheduled for tomorrow early. I’ll mail over the pertinent account facts and where I think Weyhousen is screwing up.

He doesn’t know you’re coming, by the way.”

Great.
“All right.” A bag was already packed and kept in the Lexus for just this purpose. Peter Weyhousen was no friend of hers. It would be a wild meeting, that was for sure. “You owe me one for this, Alastair.”

The CEO chuckled. “Honey, see me at bonus time, all right?” He sighed.

“Gotta go. I’m speaking at the engineers’ conference in five minutes.”

“Good luck,” Dar told him.

“You too,” came the reply, before a click indicated the CEO had hung up.

Dar put her arms on the desk and blew out a breath. She pressed the intercom button. “Maria, I need a flight to DC late afternoon today, coming back open.”

“
Dios mío
,” the secretary replied. “He doesn’t let you live.” A rustle of paper. “I will take care of things, Dar.”

“Thanks.” Dar released the intercom and sat back, nibbling a fingernail.

Then she pulled her keyboard over and typed in a request to the database lying open on her desktop. A moment later it came back with a reply, and she picked up the phone again, dialing a number.

“Kerry Stuart.”

The voice on the other end of the phone sounded harassed and upset.

“Well. Good morning, Ms. Stuart. It was nice exchanging mail with you,” Dar replied evenly.

“Oh.” After a momentary pause, Kerry cleared her throat. “Hello. I, um…thank you for answering; the information was very helpful.” Her tone was guarded and borderline hostile.

Dar’s brow furrowed. “No problem. What I called for was to tell you I’m going out of town for a few days. If you have any more questions, you can go ahead and mail them, but it might be a few hours before I pick them up and address anything.”

There was a long silence and then an explosion. “Why don’t you address the bastard you sent over here?” The frustration evident in the woman’s voice spilled over into anger. “You know, I don’t know who you people think you are, treating human beings as some kind of dirt you can rub under your heels.”

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Melissa Good

“Whoa.” Dar’s tone was stronger than she’d intended. “Hold on.” A ragged breath whispered through the receiver, and Dar could almost feel the emotion. “What’s going on?”

There was another silence. “What’s going on? What do you think is going on? Your goons are going through here ripping the place apart and disrupting everything. If you wanted to just trash the company, why didn’t you just do it?”

“Ms. Stuart…”

“Opening people’s personal possessions, locking my network people out of their offices…”

“Ms. Stuart…”

“Telling me I can’t have access to my own payroll records?”

“Kerry.” Dar spoke forcefully, almost a bark.

There was a breathless pause before Kerry snapped, “Only my friends call me that. And you are definitely not one of them.”

It was, Dar realized, ridiculous. She was the vice president of operations for a worldwide major corporation, and here was this two-bit manager of a half-rate single-city service provider telling her off.

What was really surprising, though, she admitted, was how much it hurt.

“Let me talk to Brady Evens.”

The phone was thrown down on the desk, and she had to wait, counting to a hundred under her breath before she heard two sets of footsteps coming back, and the receiver was picked up. “Here,” she heard Kerry’s voice snap, then the phone rustled.

“Brady?”

“Yeah.”

“Velvet glove.”

“Aw shit! You’re kidding my ass.”

The growly voice of her security team leader tickled her eardrums.

“Nope. I mean it,” she stated flatly. “Stuart gets VIP.”

“Dar, you don’t know what…there’s holes in here as big as my butt, and Mark’s already put a link in, for god’s sake.”

“I. Don’t. Care.” Dar barked. Her voice dropped to a deep snarl. “Just do it!”

“All…all right, okay,” Brady answered in a chastened voice. “Okay.

Sorry. I didn’t know. My papers said a regular sweep.”

“Change the papers,” Dar replied, her voice still furious.

“Yes, ma’am,” the team leader quietly replied. “Hold on.” Through the speaker of the phone, Dar heard as he clicked something. “Team lead to crew.” A splurt of static answered, along with a soft, muffled clamor of voices.

“Stop what you’re doing. We need to go to gold mode, over.”