The Summit Read Free

who worked out at least four hours a day and was already lifting weights. Blond and sun-tanned year-round, he was a nice guy who was always friendly but never pressed her for a date, and instead seemed content just to enjoy her friendship.
    â€œHi, Bruce. How’s it going?”
    â€œSame ol’, same ol’.” He grinned, carving a dimple into his cheek. Then he hoisted a barbell loaded with a ridiculous amount of iron and began his bicep routine.
    Autumn kept walking along the blue-and-gray carpeted floor, passing walls of mirrors. In the bicycle room, long rows of TVs entertained the men and women pumping away on bikes that went nowhere. Eighties music played in the background. Sometimes it was country; sometimes hard rock or hip hop. The staff was very fair about the gym’s musical selections.
    Making her way into the women’s dressing room, Autumn headed for her private locker where she kept her climbing clothes. She pulled on stretchy black pants, perfect for climbing—not tight, but not so baggy they got in the way—a black T-shirt and a pair of soft leather climbing shoes that closed with Velcro tabs.
    Once she finished changing, she stored her purse and street clothes in the locker and left to teach her second class of the summer.

Two
    T he headquarters of McKenzie Enterprises took up the entire sixth floor of the building. The president’s office looked out over the city streets all the way across the bay.
    Seated behind his oversized mahogany desk, Ben McKenzie studied one of the half-dozen files stacked in front of him. His large, private office was done in dark wood accented with brushed chrome and deep dark burgundy carpets. There was a wall of windows behind his desk and a built-in bar in one of the sleek mahogany cabinets that lined one wall.
    The intercom buzzed and Ben hit the button, allowing the voice of his secretary and personal assistant, Jennifer Conklin, to flow into the room.
    â€œYour nine o’clock appointment is here,” she said. “Kurt Fisher with A-1 Sports.”
    â€œThanks, Jenn, send him in.” Ben rose from his leather chair and shot the cuffs on the crisp white shirt beneath the jacket of his navy-blue suit. His clothes were expensive and perfectly tailored to fit his tall frame, but he had earned every dime it took to pay for them and he was a man who appreciated quality and design.
    He glanced toward the door. He wasn’t sure what Fisher wanted, but the man was head of acquisitions for A-1 Sports, a successful chain of low-end retail sporting-goods stores, so the conversation might prove interesting. With seventy-six stores around the country—and more popping up every day—A-1 posed tough competition for McKenzie’s more expensive, higher-quality merchandise, but so far his stores were holding their own.
    The door swung open and Ben caught a glimpse of Jenn’s light-brown hair as she waited for Fisher to walk into the room. She was thirty-seven-years-old, married with two kids and had been with him for the last seven years, ever since he had incorporated the company. Jenn closed the door behind Fisher—slim, forty-something, with a reputation for being an aggressive, don’t-take-no-for-an-answer kind of guy willing to do whatever it took to reach his financial goals, which by the look of his flashy Armani tie were extremely high.
    â€œWould you like a cup of coffee?” Ben asked. At six-foot-two, he was taller than Fisher, wider through the chest and shoulders, more athletically built. Though they both had dark brown hair, Ben’s was thicker and slightly curly.
    â€œNo thanks. I’m fine.” Fisher seated himself in one of the black leather chairs in front of the desk. Ben unbuttoned his suit coat and sat down across from him.
    â€œSo what can I do for you this morning, Kurt?” Ben smiled. He was always polite but he didn’t believe in wasting time.
    Fisher lifted his leather