The Last Outbreak (Book 3): Desperation by Jeff Olah Read Free Book Online

recalled the man he originally met and the story of his demented upbringing.
     
     
    Marcus Goodwin hired Dalton away from his former company after the two had spoken for less than ten minutes. The two other interviewers were asked to step out of the room as Goodwin retrieved a black dry erase marker and moved to the mobile whiteboard at the opposite end of the massive conference room table.
    Without hesitation, he drew a dollar symbol along the upper left side of the board and turned back to Dalton. “Okay son, what’s your number?”
    “Mr. Goodwin… my number?”
    “I have a project that I want you to head and I want you to start on Monday.”
    Grinning in disbelief, Dalton sat forward in his chair. “Monday as in—”
    “Yes, Mr. Dalton. I have an office ready for you on the tenth floor and a team that needs a leader. The only thing I need to know is the number that you want me to write on this board. The dollar figure that it will take to get you here on Monday morning.”
    “Mr. Goodwin, while I appreciate—”
    Interrupting, Goodwin tossed the black dry erase marker to the younger man, and returned to his seat. “Call me Marcus.”
    Still attempting to put this conversation into perspective, as well as collect his thoughts, Dalton stared back toward the board. “Uh… I don’t quite know what to say. I wasn’t completely prepared for this.”
    “I’ll tell you what,” Goodwin said. “How about you go up to the board and write the number yourself. I’ll even leave the room if that would make you feel more comfortable.”
    “No sir, it’s just that I wouldn’t be simply leaving another job. I was under the impression that you knew I was the founder of—”
    “Yes, the company you started that produces those cute little games for smartphones. I’ve familiarized myself with your company and am willing to pay you for it as well… hell, I’ll even let you keep it.”
    “Mr. Goodwin… uh Marcus?”
    “You retain ownership and then just have someone else run it for you. I hear your COO is more than capable.”
    Turning his gaze from the board to Goodwin, Dalton paused for a beat and then took in a deep breath. “Monday?”
    Goodwin smiled. “Can I get you here sooner than that?”
    Dalton returned the gesture. “Just one question, what exactly will I be working on?”
    “You’ll get all the details once we get your NDA and Non-Compete signed, but for now, welcome to Project Blackmore.”
     
     
    In the years since that first meeting, Dalton had learned more about Marcus Goodwin than was probably healthy. For reasons still unknown to him, the wealthiest man alive had grown to trust him with even the most intimate of details. Maybe it was the fact that Dalton rarely shared anything outside his own professional life, and maybe it was simply Goodwin’s way of avoiding anything that resembled actual therapy. Either way, the evolution of their relationship had more than a few unusual twists. Glancing across the seat at Goodwin, he recalled the night he nearly turned in his resignation.
    He’d only been with BXF for one-hundred-eight-six days. He remembered that night like it was yesterday. The pair sat in Goodwin’s penthouse office, exhausted after fourteen long hours with the planning committee. They had finally broken ground on Blackmore and would start laying the foundation of Building One the following day.
    It could have been the stress finally taking its toll, the lack of adequate sleep, or possibly the copious amounts of alcohol the pair had begun to consume, but for whatever reason, Marcus Goodwin opened a door to a part of his life few had ever known. And for a young James Dalton, it was a door he wasn’t completely sure he wanted to step through.
    Just past midnight and in a rare moment of vulnerability, Goodwin cradled his 64-year-old scotch and let his eyes drift to the carpet. He kept his gaze away from Dalton as he began to share his story.
    He talked about starting BXF with