Free The Dirty Secret by Brent Wolfingbarger

money to buy your damn bank! And when that happens - not if mind you, but when that happens - you can bet your ass there will be a bunch of you stuffed-suit-wearing motherfuckers looking for new jobs.”
    The banker remained silent for almost a minute. Jack was breathing so hard he felt like he had just finished running a five mile race and he held his cell phone in a death-grip.
    “I’m sorry you feel that way, Jack,” Tharp finally said, his voice laden with stress. “But we’re not in the business of losing money, and if my own money was riding on whether or not McCallen Resources will still be solvent come July, I’d bet against it.”
    “Well, you better hope you’re right,” McCallen said menacingly. “Otherwise, you’ll need to brush up your resume.”
    Before the banker could say anything else, Jack hung up the phone and hurled it against the wall of his office. Bits of plastic and electronic circuitry flew in every direction as the sounds of his guttural screaming echoed off the walls.
    Tharp’s bank was the last in the area to look at his loan application, and only the most recent one to turn down his request. He slumped into his chair and struggled to fight back tears, knowing in his heart of hearts that in the absence of some sort of miracle, the company his dad had spent years building from the ground up was about to go down in flames, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

CHAPTER 15
    CHARLESTON, WEST VIRGINIA
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 13, 2:30 P.M.
    Luke Vincent sat in the rear of his limousine. Leaning forward, he clutched his cell phone and stared at it, silently pondering his next move.
    His State Police escort stood outside the limo, dutifully allowing him a moment alone. Clad in a long, olive greatcoat, a plume of fog billowed from the trooper’s mouth as he rubbed his gloves together, trying to keep himself warm. Secret Service agents hovered nearby.
    Vincent took a deep breath, hit “send,” and raised the phone to his ear. His heart was racing as the phone began ringing.
    “Hello?” said the spectacularly sultry voice which answered his call.
    “I didn’t appreciate that little stunt you pulled the other morning,” Vincent said. “What in the world were you thinking when you sent me that video clip?”
    “I don’t like being kept waiting, nor do I care for that tone of voice, Mr. Governor.”
    Vincent felt a pang in his chest. This was not how he had envisioned this conversation unfolding. He was the Governor for Christ’s sake! Most people wouldn’t dare talk to him like that. Knowing she had the power to do so made him both furious and terrified, a combination that seriously hindered his ability to think clearly.
    “I’m sorry,” he said gently, “but I was in a meeting when your message came through, and I had to make up some cockamamie story I’m sure no one believed. Just think what would have happened if Donna had been there when I opened that message.”
    “Not my problem, Luke. Make arrangements to see me more often, I’ll be a happy camper, and you won’t hear from your mistress when you’re in polite company. But if you keep putting me off and making me feel like some kind of whore you’re ashamed of …” She paused, letting the threat hang. “ … well, if you keep treating me like that, you can’t expect me to keep playing nice. Maybe next time, I’ll send the clip directly to Donna’s phone.”
    “I didn’t get where I am by being pushed around or threatened,” the governor snapped. “You’re not the first person who thought they had me by the short and curlies, and don’t you ever threaten to drag my wife into this situation again. Because if you do, Tabatha, you’re gonna find out real quick that it’s not smart to get on my bad side.”
    Vincent heard Tabatha start sobbing. “I am so, so sorry, baby. I just want to be with you so bad, and it hurts when I can’t see you. I don’t like feeling like a whore, Luke. I don’t like going