They were the last words Caleb heard as his father was wheeled into a surgery that took over five hours to perform.
The next morning Christian Pierce was dead.
And then the nightmare really began.
chapter one
Caleb sat in the fancy conference room of the lawyer’s office. His brothers had arrived and taken seats at the gleaming mahogany table far away from one another, eliciting a raised brow from his father’s lawyer. Yeah, the Pierce brothers had no love lost between them. Caleb had waited too long to make the call, and now there was another item to be checked off the Caleb-is-a-shit-brother list. He should’ve gone with his instincts and told them as soon as Christian was wheeled into surgery. Instead, he figured he’d wait a bit, not wanting them to hurry home to his father’s nastiness. Caleb never doubted he’d make it through the surgery. It wasn’t even a worry in his mind as he sat in the waiting room drinking bad coffee, answering texts, and watching CNN on the television. Of course, he’d been wrong, and now he was taking the heat. He’d ripped the choice out of Dalton’s and Tristan’s hands on whether they wanted to make the trip to see Dad, and when they showed up and looked at his body, something cold passed between them, stretching the distance by a few miles more.
He refused to feel a pang of pain. It did no good. There was never going to be a tearful reunion around his father’s casket anyway, and even during the wake they’d all stood separately, greeting people with a polite demeanor and only speaking when necessary.
Even now, Dalton’s face held a permanent scowl. Didn’t really go with the whole California-surfer vibe he had going on. His hair was caught back in a ponytail and had gone almost blond. The face that launched a thousand ships—his many girlfriends’ tagline—now looked like he’d be happy kicking someone’s ass. Probably Caleb’s. He’d gotten the height in the family, so those long limbs were crossed at the ankles under the table like he was on lunch break at the beach rather than waiting to hear the will. He’d changed. Still the best-looking in the bunch and probably still a man whore, but there was a new determination his aura reflected that was never there before. At twenty-eight years old, he was the youngest and always seemed to be competing for his place. Of course, it had been over five years since Caleb had seen his brothers. After his mother’s death in a horrific car accident, everything had splintered, shoving them into confrontation, and breaking underneath the strain. Both his brothers had walked out shortly after they lost her and never looked back. This time, the pang came and went without even an inward flinch. He’d gotten better under his father’s tutelage to bury all that anger and discontent. Too bad Dalton hadn’t received the same benefit.
Caleb flicked his gaze over to Tristan. The golden child. The peacemaker. Caleb always figured Tristan would be the one to run the family empire. Even now, his amber eyes held a steady light, and his manicured hands were calmly clasped on the smooth surface of the tabletop. His reddish-brown hair seemed perfectly tousled, and he wore some type of pricey customized suit that screamed I’m important. Guess property sales and renovating dumps was a decent living. Tristan refused to look him directly in the eye, which told Caleb how seriously pissed he was.
Samuel Dyken, lawyer extraordinaire, droned on as he read from lengthy paperwork and used legal jargon like a ninja used throwing stars. Finally he looked up and cleared his throat. Caleb caught a strange wariness in his gaze. A tingle began at the base of Caleb’s spine, spreading outward and warning of something bad to come. Dyken neatened the stack of papers in front of him and took a deep breath. “Now I’ve come to the new agreement your father put in his will. It affects all of you in a rather large way.”
Dalton rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I don’t need anything of his anyway. I’ve been fine on my own.”
Tristan nodded. “I think we all agree we want nothing to do with Pierce Brothers and will happily sign it all over to Caleb.”
The words should’ve made Dyken happy, but he looked like someone had just overturned his winning verdict. He seemed to choose his words carefully. “Unfortunately, that won’t be possible. There are new terms to the agreement of Caleb keeping Pierce Brothers.”
The tingle got worse. He shifted in his chair. “What did the son of a bitch do now?”
Dyken winced. “He changed the terms of the will one year ago. The company originally would’ve been split among the three of you with an option to buy out the others’ portions. There is no longer that option.”
Dalton leaned forward with an impatient breath. “What are the options?”
“The company is not allowed to be split among the three of you. In order to inherit Pierce Brothers, all of you must run the company together as co-owners.”
Caleb heard the words, but his brain had put up a barrier. Probably to protect him from losing his shit and going straight down to hell to kick his father’s ass. It had to be a mistake. His brothers were staring at Dyken with comical half-opened mouths. Yeah, they’d been gone a long time. They weren’t used to their father’s tricks or viper meanness, even after death.
“What are the terms?” he asked briskly. “And how do we get out of it?”
Dyken held up his upturned palms. “The terms state all three of you must live in the house together and run Pierce Brothers for one year. If the company makes a profit—I have specifics on what he termed successful—you can all decide to sell your shares and leave. If the company is not profitable after a year, it gets dissolved without recourse.”