Rebel (Renegades #2)(98)
Author: Skye Jordan

Someone’s phone rang, and Jax, somewhere behind Troy, said, “Yeah? Be right there.” He stood. “Ready on set.”

Troy ruffled Rubi’s hair like an annoying brother. She swatted at his hands. “Hey.”

“That’s for staying gone so long.” He kissed her head on the way out the door. “Don’t do it again.”

Duke gave her a high five on the way out. Keaton followed with “Don’t be a stranger. We like you more than Lawson.”

Jax stopped in front of her, his eyes narrowed in concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” No. They all obviously knew her relationship with Wes was over. He obviously wasn’t keeping it a secret. Evidently no second thoughts. Which pissed her off when that was all she’d had since she left his parents’ house. “Is Wes around?”

“Uh…no.” He cast a slow glance over his shoulder at Rachel. “Did he say when he’d be back?”

She pressed her lips together and shook her head.

“No problem.” Rubi waved away the obvious tension. “I’ll catch him later.”

Jax nodded, offered a strained smile, then passed. On his way out the door, he turned back. “Lexi and I are home tonight. Come over for dinner?”

“You bet.”

He smiled before turning away and closing the door behind him.

Rubi closed her eyes and exhaled. Opening her eyes on Rachel, she said, “What the f**k just happened?”

Rachel scrambled from behind her desk, crossed the trailer, and peeked out the blinds. Then turned a furious gaze on Rubi. “Wes just left for lunch with some chick.”

That news stunned her silent. And dumb.

“What…chick?” she finally managed.

“I don’t know. None of the guys knew her. Courtney Marshall?”

Rubi shook her head, her stomach sinking. “I don’t know who that is. Was it, like…a date?”

“I don’t know. But I eavesdropped through the window because he wouldn’t talk to her in here. They’re going to Casey’s for lunch. You know, Casey’s Irish Pub on South Grand.”

“Yeah,” she said, dazed, “I know it.”

“Did you guys really break up?”

Her gaze returned to Rachel’s. Her big brown eyes were worried, soft with compassion. “I…don’t even know if we were really ever together.”

Rachel grabbed Rubi’s arms and shook her. “What’s wrong with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“All your spunk is gone. This isn’t the Rubi I know. This isn’t the Rubi Wes loves.”

“We both know you can do anything you put that wicked mind of yours to.”

His words to her at the airport hit her. “Yeah. You’re right.” She turned and opened the door. “I’ve got to go.”

Wes sucked down the second half of his beer as they waited for their lunch order. One he wasn’t going to be able to eat given the roiling state of his gut. His knee bounced beneath the table. He glanced around before he set his gaze back on Courtney’s. She was so calm. So cool. Almost predatory.

“So,” he said, “this can be completely confidential, right?”

“Completely,” she assured him.

Wes cleared his throat. Licked his lips. “What kind of money are we talking about?”

For the third time since they sat down, Courtney tried to pull the contract from her briefcase.

“No.” Wes put out a hand to stop her. “I don’t want to see it. I’ve hired someone to look it over. I just want to talk.”

“Okay,” she said on an exhale as if her patience was waning. “I don’t have anything definite yet, but I have three different companies interested. I’d be working this contract as an agent, since none of Russo Industries are equipped to manufacture the rig. You would get fifty percent of the licensing payment and two percent royalties on the retail cost of the rig for every sale.”

“Uh-huh.” He wished he had more time. Wished he could take the money from this deal to do what he really wanted to do—buy that house for Rubi. But he didn’t. This was all he could think of in the short amount of time he had left to work with. “Numbers?”

“It’s really premature to be—”

“Ballpark me.”

Another irritated clamp of her lips. Another heavy exhale. “You can’t hold me to any of these numbers. Things change—”

“I understand.”

“Ballpark thirty million for the license and about a hundred dollars for every sale. With the market for the rig, we estimate your take to be two to three million for the first five years.”

Wes felt like he’d missed the airbag from a sixty-foot fall. He didn’t want to look like an idiot, so he lowered his gaze to the table and scraped both hands through his hair, forcing himself to breathe.

“Look,” Courtney said, sitting forward. “Like I said, it’s just a guesstimate. I generally err on the low side because I’d rather you be pleasantly surprised when I get more than expected. Because this invention is so unique and so high tech, Dolph may be willing to raise the royalty to three percent, but…” Courtney shook her head. “With that nonnegotiable stipulation you’ve made on selling his house to Rubi, his flexibility might be iffy.”

Whatever. He waved his fingers. “Okay, let me have it. I’ll have someone look it over and get back to you tomorrow.”

A little grin curved her mouth. One he didn’t like.

He looked down at the slab of paper she set on the table between them. Christ, it had to be half an inch thick. When he glanced up again, movement at the door drew his gaze. Rubi pulled one of the glass doors open.

His first response was visceral—his gut flipped on itself and twisted. His heart added a few beats to the rhythm. Then reality hit. He flashed hot. Then cold. His mind spinning what-the-fucks upside down and sideways.

“Shit.” He pulled the contract into his lap.

Courtney glanced over her shoulder, then back at Wes. “I’ve never met her. She won’t know me.”

No, she’d just see him with another woman. Or she’d talked to her father and already knew what he had planned and was here to crush his balls.

But then she stopped halfway in the door and turned around. But she didn’t leave. She just stood there with her back to the door, arms crossed. Turned again, shook her hair back, and opened the door.