SHANE
Only moments after Seth warns me that my mother is in the office, Derek stalks toward me, leaving Emily behind, his steps determined, his energy confrontational. His dark gray suit is less than pressed and perfect, when it’s never so much as ill adjusted. He’s rattled, on edge, ready for a fight with me, the wrong person. Martina and Mike are the enemies, but I am not sure he will understand this until it’s too late, and I won’t ever let that day come. I stand my ground, expecting some sort of snide remark about Emily perhaps before he moves on and lets me get back to trying to save us all. But that’s not what I get. He stops in front of me, his eyes level with mine. “Let’s talk.”
A novel idea that, coming from him, and about as surprising as that demand being issued after Emily’s been in his office, leaving me ever so curious as to what my woman said to my brother. Whatever the case, she got me his ear, and I’m going to use it any way I can. I give him a nod and move back into my office, standing my ground midway, expecting that confrontation to happen now.
Again, I’m surprised. Instead, my brother walks to the window and, giving me his back, stands there, looking out at the city the way I often do. I’m struck by the likeness in us, which I’d once claimed and wish I could deny now, and I wonder how many times we’ve stood at the windows of our offices, in the opposite direction. Opposite in all that we do, or so I’d thought days ago. Now I’m not so sure anymore, and I wonder how he went from being my big brother and idol to being an enemy. I step to the window myself, leaving several shoulder lengths separating us, the many spoken and unspoken words of the past few turbulent years thickening the air between us.
“Emily says you never wanted the company,” he says finally, still looking at the skyline, though I doubt he’s really seeing it any more than I am.
“She’s correct.”
“Then why come here and try to unravel everything I’ve worked for?” he asks, still not looking at me.
“I have some news for you, Derek. ‘Everything,’ as you put it, was unraveled before I got here or I wouldn’t be here.”
He glances over at me. “And yet this company, and the people working for it, managed to function for thirty years without you. Pops,” he adds, “did okay by it, and so did I.”
“Pops,” I say, giving a humorless laugh at the childhood name we’d used for our father. “He hasn’t been that person in decades.”
“He was always the person he is now. We just didn’t see it.”
“But he isn’t and wasn’t the person who made these missteps.”
Derek laughs this time, the sound bitter, choked, and in unison, as we often were in the past, we face each other. “Pops didn’t make the missteps?” he asks incredulously. “Pops is king. He calls the shots. Who do you think is behind every move I’ve made since I stepped foot in this building? And I do mean every move.”
“So he sent you to the FDA? I’m not buying it.”
“Not directly,” Derek says. “He never does things directly, but he makes it clear what he wants done and how.”
“Your hunger for power makes you take things out of context.”
“He said that I needed to convince the right people to approve that drug in whatever way necessary. Does that sound like I took his directive out of context?”
“And getting involved with a drug cartel?” I say, far from convinced. “Am I supposed to believe he told you to do that too?”
“He flung a picture of Teresa on my desk, along with her biography, and then told me he thought she needed a good fuck.”
“Bullshit, Derek.”
“You think I could even make this shit up? Really? Because I guess my imagination has run wild while good ol’ Pops suddenly became a Boy Scout?”
I step to him and he to me. “If this is true—”
“It’s true.”
“Why the fuck would you do it then?”
“Which ‘it’ are we talking about?”
“All of it. Any of it.”
His lips thin. “There are reasons.”
“What damn reasons?” I demand tightly. “Make me understand.”
“He has ways to destroy me.”
“You’re his son,” I say. “Your scandal becomes his reputation, so I’m not buying that.”
“He has ways around his own demise, I promise you. Why do you think the board, Mike Rogers included, stays so damn loyal to him? He has a file on everyone. He’ll have a file on you too soon.”
“His threats do not justify your bad deeds.”
“Says the almighty Shane Brandon.”
“That’s not how it is.”
“Isn’t it? Well, talk to me a year from now when you aren’t that person anymore. He’ll change you if he lives long enough.”
“That’s a cop-out.”
“Ask Mike Rogers about cop-outs. He’s as captive as I am, which is exactly why I have his vote.”
“Well, you must be proud to have the vote of the man fucking your mother. I guess nothing matters to you anymore.”
He blanches. “What the hell are you talking about? Mom wouldn’t do that.”
“That’s what I said too,” I say, relieved that he’s genuinely shocked rather than approving. “But it’s true.” I walk to my desk and pull open a drawer. “Seth provided proof.” I remove a folder, flipping it open and tossing it onto my desk, a picture of my mother and Mike kissing on top. But Derek still stands two feet away, frozen, as if he dreads the truth I’ve just offered him. And I wonder if he too has her on a pedestal.
Finally though he caves to what I recognize as a need for answers, and crosses to my desk and looks at the photo, his jaw and pretty much every muscle in his body tensing. Abruptly his gaze cuts to mine. “When was this taken?”
“Recently.”
“Fuck,” he murmurs, his hand sliding over his chin. “Does Father know?”
“He knows and not because I told him. He told me.”
“His comments at dinner,” he says. “The wills. The Brandon family staying in control. He thinks Mike is plotting a takeover.”
“And Mom is in Mike’s bed. That equates to conspiring as far as Father’s concerned.”
His gaze sharpens on me. “And you? Do you think the two of them are conspiring?”
“You tell me,” I say, folding my arms in front of me. “You’re the one buddying up with Mike.”
“For his vote, and my own control, not his, but for him to do this, he’d need to be certain that you or I didn’t inherit the ammunition Father has on him.”
“Mom’s resourceful,” I say, remembering my request for that information she has yet to deliver to me. “If it really exists—”
“It does.”
“Then she might have it.”
“I met with Mike this morning,” he surprises me by admitting. “I don’t believe he has it.”
“Why did you meet with him?”
“To tell him you’re the acting CEO and a fucking bastard,” he says. “Why do you think?”
Translation: to plot how to unseat me. I move on, staying focused on gaining every drop of information this chat might deliver for my arsenal. “Does Mike know about Martina or the FDA?”
“Contrary to what you think, I don’t hand anyone ammunition to use against me. I learned that lesson from our father. Anything Mike knows, Mom told him; I sure as hell haven’t shared any of the details with her, and I know for a fact Father never tells her anything.”
“But again, she’s smart. She’s capable of finding things out.”
“This is Mom you’re talking about,” he argues. “Even if he cut her out of his will, she’d inherit a small fortune, and I can’t believe she’d betray us, her sons.”
“Unless Father’s moved the money around so that it seems like there is nothing.”
“He could have. It’d be lower than I give him credit for, but he could have. But if he did, we assume she’s doing what?”
“Trying to be on the winning team that isn’t us,” I say. “And if that’s true—”
“Mike’s aggressively planning a hostile takeover and she thinks it will work,” he supplies, his lips thinning.
“That’s where my head is at,” I confirm.
“And Pops? What does he think? Where’s his head?”
“Mike’s sleeping with Mom. Where do you think his head is?”
“He wants to ruin him.”
“Or at least control him,” I say.
“Control him how?”
“He’s working on a plan,” I say, offering no further detail.
“I’ll make this easy on everyone,” he says. “I have one. Use Martina against him.”
I press my hands on the desk, leaning toward him. “Are you crazy? We don’t know what Martina will do to him, and Mom could end up collateral damage in the process.”
“Jesus, Shane. I’m not telling you to have Martina kill Mike. I’m telling you to make it clear to Mike that inheriting this company means inheriting Martina and his drug cartel family.”
Relieved that he has not stooped to ordering hits on people, I absorb his meaning with a mixed reaction, hitching my hip on the edge of my desk. “You just said you didn’t tell him about Martina or the FDA for a reason. You didn’t want him to have ammunition on you.”
“Which is why we need to turn the tables. Get ammunition on him that ensures if he tries to take us down, he goes down too. We need to connect him to Martina. Make it look like he’s the instigator of the cartel relationship. Like he forced us into it. Then he’s a captive. We control him.”
His use of the word “we” is coming a little too easily after years of shunning me. I narrow my eyes at him. “Was this your plan? Get him on your side, set him up, and then use him to force me out?” I don’t wait for a reply I don’t think I can stomach. “Because if it was, you failed. It’s not Martina’s plan. Martina’s plan is nothing shy of owning us all.”
“How would you know anything about Martina’s plan?”
“Adrian Martina came to see me last night. Made it to my door without authorization.”
“How did he even get to your floor when I can’t?”
“We’d have to ask the member of my security team who went missing last night, if he ever returns. And for the sake of his wife and young children, I hope the hell he does.”
His eyes harden. “What did he want?”
“It was all about power. He wanted to send a message. He has it. We do not. Is that really how you want Brandon Enterprises to end up? Under his control?”
His expression tightens and he stares at me for several beats, his face unreadable before he walks back to the window. I join him, stepping to his side, both of us folding our arms in front of us at the same moment. The same, but different. Together, but apart. “Emily said Ramon followed her today.”
“He did,” I say. “And he made sure I knew. Just like Adrian made a point of telling me you’re using Teresa to get to him.”
We face each other, hands going under our jackets to our hips. Again the same, but different. “And you said?”
“I told him you fell for a girl and saw an opportunity. You are aware that Ramon is in love with Teresa, I assume.”
“Believe me, I’m crystal clear on that point.”
“Adrian only needs one of us, Derek. You’re fucking Teresa. He’s going to pick me.”
Before I can blink, his hands are on my lapels and he’s shoved me against the window. “Is that a threat?”
I shove him backward with enough force that he stumbles, and I get the hell off the glass. “It was a plea that we stand together. Clear the company of outsiders. Then if you want to fight with me, we’ll fight it out—brother to brother—on our terms, one-on-one, the way it should be. Truce, brother. Choose family.”
“Is that what you were doing when you drafted that document that just made you acting CEO? Choosing family?”
The fire alarm goes off, blasting through the overhead speakers. “Martina,” I say, already walking. “I went to see Teresa today. He’s making me pay. I need to get to Emily.”
He grabs me again before I can make it to the door. “Why the hell did you go see Teresa?”
“Mom is in the building too,” I tell him. “Martina is coming for our family and anyone we care about. We need to get everyone out.”
“Damn it,” he growls. “You did this. If anyone gets hurt, it’s on you.” He releases me, but the safety of everyone in this building is far more important to me right now than the reality check he deserves. Exiting the office, I find Jessica missing and I keep moving, leaving Derek to deal with his secretary, and when I reach the lobby as Seth does, both of us notice that the receptionist is still at her desk. “Get up and get outside,” Seth orders.
She gives him a deer-in-headlights look. “Isn’t it just a drill?”
I’m already past her desk and headed toward my father’s office, where I hope like hell I find him and Emily.
“Jesus, woman,” I hear Derek mutter behind me, clearly talking to our receptionist. “A fire alarm does not mean stay at your desk.”
“Translation,” Seth says, “get up and get out.”
I round the corner and bring Emily’s empty desk into view. “Damn it.”
Derek appears by my side. “I’ll get Mom and Dad.” He charges toward the door and opens it. “Holy hell,” I hear him curse as I walk to the hallway, followed by a barked, “put some clothes on.”
I’d laugh if I weren’t so fucking worried about Emily and Jessica, pushing onward to the lobby again, cutting left to the break room and then the copy room. There’s no sign of Emily or Jessica. Moving toward the exterior lobby and elevators, I dig my phone from my pocket and punch in Emily’s number, only to have it go straight to voice mail. My gaze catches on the ladies’ room, and I push the door open and enter. “Emily! Jessica!”
Nothing.
“Damn it.”
Urgency builds inside me, a tight ball that settles in my gut, and I rotate, exiting the bathroom. At the same moment, I find Emily and Jessica exiting the stairwell just as several staff members enter behind them. “What the hell are you doing coming up, not going down?” I demand, closing the small space between me and them, my focus on Emily. My hands come down on her arms and the relief I feel, the way just touching her and knowing she’s okay, allows me to breathe again, speaks of how on edge Martina has me.
“Is this the kind of trouble I fear it is?” Emily asks softly, angling her body away from Jessica. “The kind that visited last night?”
“What does that mean?” Jessica asks. “The kind that visited last night?”
“It means,” I say, glancing at her, “I’m going to have you escorted downstairs and out of the building.”
“We can go down on our own, Shane,” Jessica insists. “Go get your parents.”
Emily’s hands settle on my forearms. “Shane,” she says, urgency in her voice as she presses for an answer to her question.
“I don’t know,” I say, and being as honest as I can be, I add, “but we’re going to assume that it is until it isn’t.”
Seth exits the offices to join us. “Your father says he can’t walk right now, and your mother refuses to leave him,” he announces. “Derek’s staying with them.”
“They’re all leaving,” I assure him, the elevator dinging as Cody steps off.
Holding the door, he announces, “There is no fire. There’s something else behind the evacuation, and I can’t get an answer on what yet.”
“Then do we still need to evacuate?” Jessica asks, stepping forward.
“Yes,” I say in unison with Cody and Seth.
“The absence of a fire isn’t the absence of danger,” Cody states, his attention on my assistant. “In fact, the unknown is full of limitless possibilities.”
“Just another day with the Brandon family,” Jessica states dryly, her hands on her hips, eyes locked on Cody. “Obviously since you’re hanging out with Seth, you’re competent, but you started and then this happened. How do we know you aren’t involved in all of this?”
“Because I said he’s not,” Seth says flatly. “And he’s in charge right now. You and Emily need to go with him and get out of the building.”
Jessica laughs. “Delicate delivery has never been your specialty. God, how I love you.” She eyes Cody. “I’m ready. I don’t take orders well, but if you say please, I’ll call you Master.”
“If you say please, I’ll let you call me Master,” he replies. “Now get in the damn car.”
Jessica laughs. “Oh, I like him too. It’s not love yet, but it feels good.” She heads toward him.
I shake my head and focus on Emily. “You too, sweetheart. Go with Cody. But don’t call him Master. That’s me. And right now I have to get my parents to listen to reason and actually evacuate, even if I have to carry my damn father down. I’ll catch up with you.”
“I’m good at getting your father to do things,” she argues. “Let me help. Then we can all leave safely.”
“I’m not risking your safety over my father’s stubbornness,” I say, despite the fact that she’s right. She has a strange ability that no one else does to soften that man.
“I’m not risking your safety over your father’s stubbornness.” She grabs the lapels of my jacket. “Let’s do this together.” She softens her voice. “All of this.”
She’s not talking about now. She’s talking about last night. This morning. All of this.
“Sweetheart,” I say, reaching for her hands. “I hear you. I do. I know what you want, but right now, I need you to go with Cody and do what he says. Please.”
She wants to argue. I see it in her face, but all she says is, “This is killing me.” Her grip on my jacket loosens.
And damn, I love how eager she is to help but how smartly she makes the decision. I cup her face and kiss her. “Do not leave Cody’s side.” I release her and eye Jessica. “That goes for you too.”
“No worries there,” Jessica assures, me, linking her arm with Emily’s. “We’ll see you outside, Boss,” she says, setting them into motion, and Cody wastes no time herding them to the elevator car and sealing them inside.
Once I know they’re on their way to safety, Seth and I step together. “It’s a bomb threat,” Seth says. “I didn’t want Cody to create panic by telling them. I have men on every floor clearing them. Cody and two of his men are taking Emily and Jessica to the coffee shop a block down to get them out of the line of fire. Nick is waiting in the lobby to take you all there as well.”
“How worried are we about this?” I ask.
“My gut says I should go to your father’s office and pull a gun on your parents to get us all the hell out of here.”
“Then let’s go get them.” We rotate and step forward, when Derek and my parents appear behind the glass in the lobby, walking in our direction.
“The gods of bitches and bastards answered my prayers,” Seth murmurs.
“Hey now,” I say. “This is my family.”
He laughs. “Exactly,” he says at the same moment my mother exits the lobby.
“Finally we’re here,” she announces, hugging herself, her dark hair a wavy wild mess. Her pale skin, which is as perfect as I once believed her to be, is now smeared with mascara, telling me she’s been crying. My mother doesn’t cry.
My father follows her, joining us, and immediately launches into a hacking fit, a napkin to his mouth, his head down, the lion, the king, weak, defeated. Hating that we see him this way, and the truth is, I do too. I really fucking do. Derek does too. I see it in his eyes as he exits, then looks at me, his expression stormy and some mix of frustration and torment, which I think he’s earned. The man just saw our parents fucking, followed by what preceded that discovery.
Seth crosses to the elevator panel and punches the call button, seeming more than a little eager to end this little hallway clash of the Titans, or rather, the Brandons. “Let’s get everyone to a secure location.”
My mother’s brow furrows. “Isn’t it unsafe to take the elevator in a fire?”
“There is no fire,” Seth explains. “We’re cleared to use the elevators, but we’ve been asked to move quickly. Once we’re on the ground level, we’ll be keeping you under lock and key until we know exactly what we’re dealing with.”
My mother lifts a frustrated hand. “I don’t even want to try to read between the lines. I won’t like what I find out.” She grabs my father’s arm, and he seems to recover, eyeing me and Derek.
“I’ll expect an explanation,” he says. “A good one.” He turns and heads to the elevator, strong enough now that he has my mother in tow.
“A good one,” Derek says dryly, stepping to my side, his voice low, biting. “The irony of that statement stretched continents. I’ll be taking the next elevator down.” Seth motions us forward, and Derek lifts a hand. “Shane and I need to finish a talk we were having.”
Seth gives me an arched brow that I answer with a confirmation nod, hoping like hell Derek has some confession that will help me end this nightmare. Seth inclines his chin, his eyes reading his understanding. “I’ll be waiting on the ground level,” he says, disappearing into the car and allowing the doors to shut.
Derek puffs out a breath and rubs his hand on the back of his neck, punching the call button for another car. “How insane is it that I can’t stand the idea of being around Mom right now? And yes. I know I’m a grown adult, but that doesn’t seem to matter right now either.”
“Been there, still doing that,” I admit, “even after Emily logically reminded me that Mom’s not only human, but that good ol’ Pops has worn her down with a pocketful of women over the years.”
Derek shoves his jacket back, hands settling on his hips. “I just saw our mother naked in our father’s office, on top of him, after finding out she most likely was naked with another man last night. I’m a couple of bottles of Father’s best Scotch, which I plan to swipe, away from logic working right now.”
Small talk, no matter how reality based, doesn’t suit us, and the minute the elevator dings, we face each other, that unfinished business between us demanding a conclusion I welcome. “Leave Teresa out of this,” Derek warns. “Involving her will only lead to more trouble.”
“This from the man who fucked her to get to her brother?” I demand, instinct driving me to push him, wanting to take him over the edge and hoping like hell I can be the hand that pulls him back to the top.
“I did fuck her,” he says. “And I am fucking her and I will keep fucking her. Which is exactly why I know that any path that involves her leads to no place good for you.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a dangerous territory, brother. One you don’t want to face with Adrian Martina.”
“You want reality? I’ll give you reality. He wants to take what is ours. He’ll kill you and he’ll kill Emily and who knows who else. I won’t let him take our company. I won’t let him take the people I love, and he needs to know I will cut where it hurts. And if that means I involve Teresa, I will involve Teresa.”
His eyes flash with challenge. “Now which one of us is in dangerous territory?”
“You paved this path I’m forced to travel to keep us all alive.”
“Leave,” he urges. “Go back to New York and then it’s on me.”
“You aren’t the first to make that recommendation,” I say, leaving out Emily’s name. “But this is Adrian Martina we’re talking about. Do you really think he’ll let us walk away alive?”
“You mean you don’t want to walk away from your newly inked CEO position.”
“The one I may never assume? Martina wants me involved, and if I walk away, he’ll kill you to get me back.” I fix him with a hard look. “Our division is our weakness. I’m choosing family. When are you going to do the same?”
“Like you did when you left your legal career?”
“Yes,” I say. “Like I did when I left my legal career.”
“Like you did when you tricked me into signing a document that named you as CEO in the event Father was incapacitated?”
I feel those words like the whip they are intended to be, but with no regret. “I’d explain my reasons for that decision, but you won’t hear me, and this isn’t the time or place for us to fight personal wars. They have to wait or there will be nothing left to claim in victory. We have two mutual enemies. Adrian Martina and Mike Rogers.”
He stares at me, his gray eyes cutting, sharp, before he walks to the panel and punches the button again. The elevator opens and we both walk inside, turning to face forward, side by side, every word we say now recorded, but as I watch him punch the button for the lobby level, that bandage still on his hand, I issue one final warning. “A blade in your hand now. A blade in your heart, or back, later.”
He doesn’t look at me. He doesn’t reply. He simply steps into the spot next to me, both of us instinctively curling our fingers into our palms. Alike and so fucking different. The doors slide shut and we don’t speak, a band of tension wrapping around us, tightening with each floor that passes, until we are at the lobby level. The elevator dings, the doors starting to open when Derek says, “I find myself wondering who is more likely to shove that blade into my heart. You or them?”
I don’t have the chance to ask who “them” is. He steps out of the elevator, and the sound of shouts fills the air. Derek looks over his shoulder at me and I’m by his side in an instant, both of us jogging toward the noise and rounding the corner to the main lobby, where we both stop dead in our tracks. People pour in through the doors, running toward us and away from the thick smoke quickly overtaking the front of the building. My gaze scans and catches on a security guard and several men I recognize from our security team near the entrance, and they actually seem to be urging people in our direction.
“Out the back door!” a police officer shouts over a megaphone. “Proceed out the back door!”
“Whatever this is,” I say to Derek, “it’s on us, and we have to make it right.” I don’t wait for his reply. I start walking toward the problem, not away, trying to ensure everyone who could be affected is being supported and is safe.
Derek is instantly beside me, keeping pace, and for a moment, I contemplate that he might be part of this, whatever it is, and that is why he’s staying with me. Maybe that’s why he kept me upstairs, and I foolishly played into his hand. I do not like this idea, but I focus on getting to the front of the building, my strides longer now, quicker. Derek’s stride matches mine as well, his energy too, my worries of moments before fading with them. He senses what I do. He fears what I fear. And we don’t know what that is. The crowd is now behind us, and the smoke calls to me, to us, neither of us slowing, until we are standing just outside the wall of glass that encases the front of the building. I watch then as the smoke begins to dissipate, and in its depths sits an ominous-looking six-by-six wooden crate.
“Any idea what the hell that is?” I ask.
“What the hell is right,” Derek says as the crate begins to rock back and forth.