before I place his face and affiliation to the families.
Ernest Mangold.
CEO of H.M.C. Philanthropies.
He’s the same board member who exercised a coup and overthrew Maximoff from the position. I step back to capture him.
Ernest’s salt-and-pepper hair flies with a gust of wind. He lays his sights on Charlie, but Charlie ignores him by slowly sticking his bib number to his mesh tank top.
Unfortunately, Ernest whips to me. “Shut that off—”
“No,” Charlie says flatly. “It stays on. He’s filming me.”
Ernest says words like lawyer and sue and not authorized before reaching for the camera, and that’s when I have no choice but to stop rolling.
“It’s off,” I ensure, pulling away from him.
He makes me show him that I’m not recording.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Oscar shooting daggers at Ernest like he almost seized my baby from me.
I begin to smile. I’m not used to a bodyguard being on my side. Usually they’d be cheering Ernest on. Take the camera down. Makes their job easier.
Now that Ernest has disabled camera footage, he closes in on Charlie. “You said he wouldn’t be here,” he whisper-hisses.
“Who?” Charlie asks.
“You know who.” After an agonizing beat, Ernest says, “Maximoff.”
I glance over at the open field where most are gathered before the race. Maximoff is extending his arm over his chest, leading a group stretch with his uncles and dad.
“He’s a Hale,” Charlie tells Ernest. “Last time I checked, H.M.C. Philanthropies stood for Hale, Meadows, Cobalt. You’re an idiot if you think he wouldn’t be here.”
Ernest’s eyes darken. “Watch yourself, Charlie.” His voice lowers. “I own the board. I could remove you tomorrow if I wanted.”
“You do already want that,” he says flatly. “But you won’t. You know why?” Charlie tilts his head, avoiding a ray of sun. “Because I’m the son of Connor Cobalt. And the only reason this company hasn’t dissolved is because I’m still a part of it. I will concede—you do own the board, Ernest. I have no control over them. But you don’t own me.”
He walks off towards the west side of the woods, completely avoiding the entrance to the trail.
Jesus, shit.
I jog after him. Following close as we leave behind everyone at an alarming rate. Oscar keeps the same pace on the other side of my subject. “What was that?” I ask Charlie.
“A prick.” He dips his head underneath a branch and enters the dense part of the woods. People are fading behind us. Tall evergreens landscape the area.
“Can’t get rid of him,” Charlie says, stepping over a boulder. “Just have to withstand him. Story of my life.”
Muscles burning, I keep a steady shot. “What do you mean?”
“Hey, let me get out front, Charlie,” Oscar tells his client.
“You don’t know where I’m going,” he refutes.
“Do you know where you’re going?” Oscar counters.
Charlie grins and glances back at both of us. “Do I?” His brows rise. “Maybe? Maybe not. Isn’t that the fun of it?” He continues his pace and answers my earlier question. “Story of my life is being surrounded by people who aggravate the fuck out of me.”
“Is your family among that group?” I wonder.
“Sometimes. But they usually aggravate me the least. Especially Beckett.” He takes a sharp right into a thicker area. But he’s skinnier than Oscar and me, able to slip between trees and branches easier.
Plus, I’m busy looking through a camera.
I stumble over a rock, and my heart jettisons, mostly fearing my equipment will be crushed underneath my weight. And I’m not referring to my dick.
Oscar extends an arm and grabs my waist. Keeping me from enduring a massive face-plant. I balance better, two hands on the handlebars of my gimbal, and Charlie’s pace quickens.
My fuck-up puts us behind him.
“Shit,” I curse, watching him disappear behind a larger oak.
Oscar follows my gaze. “We’ll catch back up.” He pushes a branch away from my face, and I duck and move with him. “What do you want to ask him so badly anyway?”
Am I that obviously eager to interview him? “I don’t understand why he’s a part of the board, if he hates Ernest so much.”
Oscar’s face softens.
“You know?”
He nods. “For a lot of people, Charlie’s a mystery. But I’ve already solved parts of him a while ago.” His lip hoists. “And I didn’t need to interview the hell out of him to do it.”
I can’t help but smile. “You rely on your talents; I’ll rely on mine.”
Oscar grins. “After you.” He waves me on. But really, we squeeze closer together as we journey ahead.