“I’m not walking away from the money. You’re smart. You’ll find a way to protect us, like your father always protected your business before you.”
I lean forward. “Like our fathers protected our businesses,” I say, making sure he gets the point. “And they survived, and continue to do so, by knowing when to stay out of something, or when to get out, when they were already in.”
“Find a way to redirect my sales, and I’ll get out, but not until then.”
My lips thin. This is not the solution I wanted, but it’s at least an option. “I need to know what you’re doing, and how you’re doing it, in order to do that.”
“If you can’t figure it out, then neither can the FBI. Figure it out. Get me out with money in my pocket, and we’ll be passing friends. And control your bloodline or I will.” He rips the knife from Derek’s hand, sliding out of the booth, and leaves us with blood everywhere.
I grab a napkin and steady my brother’s arm, holding it when it trembles, wrapping his hand, before grabbing another napkin. He doesn’t stop me. He hardly moves and is clearly in shock, blood already seeping through the napkins. I grab my tie, loosen it and pull it free, to create a tourniquet around his arm.
“Don’t move,” I say, standing and walking to the hostess booth, where the woman behind the counter gladly supplies me with more napkins and the scissors she has at the stand. Derek still isn’t moving or speaking, and I cut cloth and wrap it around his palm, tying it off this time.
Derek’s gaze meets mine, his eyes pure bloodshot hate. He stands up and takes two steps before he sways. I am there before he falls, catching him. Still, he doesn’t speak, and I focus on getting him the hell out of here before Adrian makes a further example of him. I manage to get him out the door, and when he shoves away from me and starts walking, he falls again. His weakness and pain, no matter how we’ve grown apart, guts me, and I drop to a knee by his side. My hand goes to his back, and he arches forward, managing to push to a knee. “Get the fuck away from me, Shane. This isn’t over. In fact, it’s just begun. He doesn’t want out. He’s not getting out.”
“Derek! Oh God. Derek!”
I look up to find Teresa, Adrian’s pretty brunette sister, rushing forward, and she’s on her knees in a heartbeat. “Please tell me my brother didn’t do this to you.” Her hands are on his face, and it’s clear she cares about my brother and will take care of him.
“He needs to get to the hospital,” I say.
She looks at me. “Yes. Of course. Can you help me get him—”
“No,” Derek growls. “No help.”
I inhale and let it out, pushing to my feet, and walking to my car, my legs weak from the rush of adrenaline surging through me. Digging out my keys, I click the locks and slide into the driver’s seat, staring forward, the sweet scent of Emily fading into that of blood and betrayal. I don’t let myself think about it just yet, needing to get past a visit to the BP facility that will be expected to uphold this failure of a façade. I start the engine and drive to the facility. I barely make it in the front door before Lana has thrown herself into my arms, hugging me.
“Oh God. I can’t believe this is happening.”
Irritated that I’ll now have to explain to Emily why I smell like a woman she knows I once fucked, I grab her arms and pull her off me. “Why are you even here at this hour?”
“I’ve been auditing records later at night, checking up on that problem you and I discussed. The problem that brought the FBI here.” Her eyes go wide. “Oh my God. Why are you bleeding?”
I don’t blink. “It’s not me. My brother cut his hand and at this point, I have no idea why the FBI is here, but you keep your mouth shut.”
She gives me big puppy-dog eyes. “You know I would never betray you.”
In other words, she would. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Okay,” she says, all innocent when she is not. “Tomorrow.”
Regretting any involvement she has, despite her figuring out Ridel is the hiding spot for Sub-Zero, I walk toward the security booth. Ted, a tall, dark-haired man in jeans and T-shirt, a gun at his hip, presents his badge and we head into a private office, where I update him on the failure of this operation. As my contact man he’s not any more pleased than I am, but full of assurances they’ll come up with another plan.
It’s an hour later when I finally pull into the Four Seasons hotel, having decided I’ve played too nice and too straight up. I can’t win that way, but I’ll find an answer that gets Adrian out of my company, and I have one thing my brother does not: My father is on my side now, and ironically, I guess I have my mother to thank for that. I might be farther from an answer to my Adrian Martina problem than I thought, but I’m closer to the head of the table.
But right now, my biggest challenge is facing Emily. The easiest thing to explain will be the blood and perfume on my shirt. The hardest will be that I’m now committed to working for a drug cartel, while my brother is committed to making sure the next knife is in my hand.
Lies destroy, but I fear the truth is worse. Maybe lies are better. Or maybe they aren’t.
EMILY
Somehow, I end up in black sweats and a tank top rather than pajamas, sitting in the middle of the floor of Shane’s office, leaning against the couch to the far left of the door, a laptop on the coffee table, and files all around it. I’m obsessing about a Brandon clothing and cosmetics line, loving the idea, and I try to focus on every way this is a good move, in order to present the plan to Shane. But my gaze keeps going to the time on the laptop, where I’m putting together spreadsheets on companies, historical profits, and success stories. It’s midnight, the moment the pumpkin is no longer a carriage and I feel a bit like Cinderella, dreading the loss of her prince, and I don’t like how it feels.