Warrior Betrayed: The Sons of the Zodiac 3 by Addison Fox

to do with it.
    Nope.
    Nothing at all.
    Shifting gears as she reached her private office, Montana spoke a few quick voice instructions into a panel on the wall, then watched the door slide open.
    All her paperwork was laid out on her desk, just as she preferred. Her personal assistant, Jackson, was incredibly efficient, not to mention nearly as anal as she was. Montana knew she’d find each note carefully dated and ordered by priority. A corresponding page of overview notes would reinforce all elements that needed her attention.
    “Well, you may finally be in luck,” she muttered to herself as she crossed the room to take the oversized leather chair behind her desk. “There’s enough paperwork here to put you to sleep in ten minutes or less.”
    Montana swiped her finger over the edge of her laptop screen, then followed it with a typed password. If her father had taught her anything, it was to be careful with her data. He’d also spent quite a bit of time lecturing her on the importance of keeping a poker face and how to dress to impress.
    Sadly, he’d taught her little else.
    If Jack Grant had ever suspected he’d leave this earth, he certainly didn’t expect to do it at age sixty-five. Nothing was in order, a fact she’d realized after taking the helm of the company six months ago.
    On a sigh, Montana dived into the paperwork and quickly lost herself in a stack of top-level performance reviews. This latest inspiration—to review what her managers’ managers had to say about the company’s leaders—had sprung this morning and, bless Jackson, he’d pulled together all the required paperwork on nearly three hundred people without blinking an eye.
    Montana focused on the expats stationed in the Cape Town office first. She couldn’t define why, but something about the African part of the organization seemed off. Lush offices, well-respected office leaders and a balance sheet that suggested only modest success.
    Something wasn’t right.
    With a quick shake, Montana brushed it off, willfully ignoring the idea it could mean anything.
    A light knock at the door jarred her from her computer screen. She was even more surprised to realize she’d wrapped that lock of hair around her finger as she read the reports Jackson had left for her.
    And then the thought was forgotten entirely as her night maid offered a small, rueful smile from the doorway. “Ms. Grant. I’m sorry to disturb you, ma’am, but…”
    “What is it, Laura?”
    Before the maid could say anything further, a lined, weathered face peeked around the doorway. “I’m sorry to bother you. I shouldn’t have come. I’m so sorry.”
    Montana leaped out of her chair and raced across the room. “Mother! What are you doing here?”
    She wrapped her arms around her mother, instructing Laura as she went to bring some tea, soup and sandwiches. Montana didn’t miss the sad speculation in Laura’s eyes as she headed out the door.
    A glance down at the frail woman in her arms indicated exactly why.
    “Mom. What’s this?” Montana touched the stocking cap on her mother’s head, then ran a hand down her stained, padded coat. A sigh bubbled up in her throat, but she held it back. The coat had been brand-new when she’d given it to her mother last week, as had the leather gloves she’d placed in the pockets. Weathered hands peeked out of the sleeves—sans gloves—and a soft moan escaped her chapped lips when Montana pulled off the hat.
    “Come on. Let’s get these things off of you and get you into fresh clothes.” God only knew where the hat had come from—likely a trade with someone for the noticeably absent gloves—and the only sound thing to do for the coat was to burn it.
    Montana knew enough not to suggest bathing. She’d made that mistake only once, and got an earful. Apparently, the outerwear could become as stained as she wanted, but her mother was fiercely maniacal about taking a daily bath.
    “I’m sorry I came.”
    “Never be sorry.