While the Fire Rages Read Free Page B

four sheets of pristine white paper and Brett had a crawling suspicion he was closer to knowing the answer to Micki’s question.
    During the cab ride from Kennedy to Wolf’s spacious apartment with its panoramic view of Central Park, Brett came very close to hating the formerly adored one.
    It had been a long day. In truth, it had been three very long days, each one riddled with fear as Brett, his mother, Eric, and Micki, so brave, so vulnerable, waited, waited, waited.
    Brett had been tired, and disillusioned, and bitter, yet, before dropping onto Wolf’s over-oversized bed, he had more thoroughly studied the four sheets of paper. Each paper contained a detailed account of the professional performance of four company employees—three men and one woman.
    The information had been gathered, at Wolf’s request, for the purpose of choosing a replacement for a retiring senior executive of the East Coast branch of Renninger Corporation.
    The lone female under consideration for the coveted position was JoAnne Lawrence.
     
    The following morning, feeling charged with restless energy after days spent in the confines of hospital waiting rooms and corridors, Brett politely declined the apartment doorman’s respectful offer of a cab.
    Had he wanted to ride, there would have been no need to do it in the back of a world-famous—infamous?—New York City cab. All that would have been required were a few words spoken into a telephone and a limousine, plush, comfortable, fitted out to the nines, would have been waiting at the curb for him. When the occasion warranted, Brett was not averse to using his name, position, power, or wealth. This particular morning, Mr. Renninger chose to walk.
    His brother’s briefcase firmly in hand, he strode off, appearing, at least to the casual glance, much like hundreds of other young executives en route to the city’s amalgam of offices. The more discerning eye would have noted the supple leather of handmade shoes, the fine material of perfectly tailored charcoal gray suit, the real silk of pearl gray shirt. The discerning female eye would appreciate the long, toned torso, the thick crop of sun-streaked, loose waves caressing a beautifully sculpted head, features so sharply etched as to appear austere in their masculine beauty, lips that promised heaven in their pleasure, hell in their disfavor. At the moment the tightness of those lips proclaimed extreme disfavor with someone.
    Brett’s strides ate up the sidewalk. Seeming so self-absorbed as to be aware of nothing around him, he was, in fact, fully conscious of everything within the radius of his near-perfect vision. Eyes dull steel, flat in contemplation of what may await at destination’s end, he strode on, his mind alive with his sister-in-law’s charge:
    “Go to New York, Brett, and, if you find it’s true, bring her back with you.”
    Now, as he approached the tall glass-and-steel building that housed the offices of East Coast Region—Renninger Corporation, his mind repeated the same silent reply as the night before.
    No way in hell!
    Stepping out of the elevator at the twenty-third floor, Brett walked briskly down the carpeted hall to the office of the personnel manager. When he walked out of the office, fifteen minutes later, the retiring senior executive’s replacement had been chosen. The choice was not a female.
    From personnel, Brett took the elevator up three more floors. His body taut with purpose, he strode to a solid, unmarked door, twisted the handle, and, eyes narrowing with intent, stepped inside.
    “May I help you?”
    The query was directed at him from a frowning woman seated behind an open laptop. Her confused expression made a demand: Who the hell are you? And how did you get up here unannounced?
    A sardonic smile teased Brett’s tightly compressed mouth. It had been a long time since his last foray into New York.
    “Is Ms. Lawrence in?” Brett asked quietly, the smile tugging harder at his lips as he observed the