Seeing Greg Baxter’s name on the cover filled him with bile. The little shit would be loving this. Ten years his junior, Baxter was the spitting image of himself—young, ruthless and hungry for success. Did that bastard think I wouldn’t find out? Baxter had been playing politics. He didn’t want to be on the losing team and rather than fight for his successes, he wanted to jump ship. He’d been sucking up to the other divisions. “I’ll fix you, you little prick,” Tyrell said to Baxter’s name at the top of the report. He’d see that Baxter’s wings were clipped before he got to scale the corporate heights. He still possessed enough clout to arrange for a crap assignment. Baxter could never be like him. The man lacked the guts and the vision to be capable of what he had done for this division. The telephone on his desk rang. “Yes.” “Mr. Tyrell. Mr. Edgar has asked for all VP's to be in the board room in ten minutes for the quarterly review,”
What do You think about Accidents Waiting To Happen?
