“It’s fucking assault. If I’d’ve punched the asshole, you can take it to the bank there’d have been cops and lawyers. Maybe we don’t handle things around here by running to cops and lawyers over a slap or punch, but I figured those kind do. Owen’s got that right.”

“You did a lot of thinking in freaking traffic.”

“It’s that or buy a gun and shoot somebody. He had his security guy bring me up to his office.”

“Jerald?”

“Yeah, that’s what Wickham called him. Once I started laying it out, Wickham gave Jerald the signal to step out. I figured it was going to take a while, a lot of moves, countermoves, defense, offense. But it didn’t, not really.”

“What did you tell him, Ryder?”

“That Jonathan came here, uninvited, unexpected, and unwelcome, claimed his father had an offer to make you if you came back to work. And that Jonathan made one of his own, if you’d hook up with him again. And that you weren’t interested. He wasn’t happy to hear it, Wickham. That’s when I got the sense he had some guilt where you were concerned. Some regrets. But when I got to the second act, told him about the blonde coming here—that’s when he sent security out of the room,” Ryder remembered.

“I imagine so,” Hope concurred.

“He got the picture, and we came to terms.”

“What terms?”

“He makes sure they leave you the hell alone, and that includes spreading lies. Then we’re square. Either of them comes here, takes any kind of hit at you, they’ll pay for it. That’s it.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah. He gave me a card with some private number on it. Asked if I’d let him know if either of them didn’t hold the deal.”

“Wait.” Stupefied, she held up a hand. “Baxter Wickham gave you his private number?”

“Yeah, so? He’s not God. He’s just some guy, an embarrassed and pissed-off guy who’s got an asshole for a son. Now it’s done, like I said.” He took a long swallow because, Jesus, he felt like he’d been talking straight for an hour. “You’re the one big on communicating, expressing. Talk, talk, talk. Maybe you should’ve done some communicating, expressing, talking to him when the asshole showed up here. The old man strikes me as a pretty reasonable guy.”

Reasonable wasn’t the word most used to describe Baxter Wickham, Hope thought. Powerful, private, occasionally pugnacious. “He was my employer for a long time. And I believed he’d be my father-in-law. But you’re right. I should’ve gone to him. I guess I was still carrying some hurt and anger in that area—plus, blood’s thicker.”