Pushing off the door, I walk to Shane’s desk and sit down, keying the computer to life. I then type in in Mike Rogers’s name, wondering how this man is ever present in our lives yet never present at all. First things first though, I remove my phone from my purse, set it on the desk, and then slip my purse over my head. Opening a drawer, I intend to set my purse inside, but instead find myself staring down at a stack of eight-by-ten photos. I pick them up, staring at an image of Shane shaking hands with who I think is the mayor of New York. I thumb through another shot, and find him with one of the old-school New York Yankees, which I know because my father was an incessantly talkative baseball fan. There are more shots, at least five, all with prominent people. All of which most people would frame and put on the wall, but not Shane. They’re his memories, not his bragging rights, which speak to me about his capacity to self-motivate his actions. It’s a comforting realization. He’ll remain true to himself. He won’t become someone he isn’t, when it seems, perhaps, that’s what happened to Derek, who, by Shane’s account, is far from the man of his past.
I flip through to the next photo, and a stack of smaller shots tumble from my hands and scatter onto the ground. I bend down to pick them up, finding there are about a dozen images now under the desk. Kicking off my high heels, I settle on my knees and begin picking them up, quite aware of my missing panties in this position but quickly distracted as the photos prove to be of Shane’s college graduation, all of which include him and his family. One particular image, of Shane, Derek, and his father sitting at a table, holding whiskey glasses up for a toast, draws me in. They’re laughing and smiling, even Brandon Senior, and you’d think that is what I’d linger on, but instead I’m struck by the absence of Maggie. Most likely it’s a meaningless observation, as logically she’s holding the camera, but somehow her anywhere but with her family feels quite profound right now. I shut the drawer and lean against it, dragging the skirt of my black dress over my knees, and staring at that same photo, feeling an inescapable sense of it trying to talk to me, but I just can’t hear what it’s saying.
The sound of the door opening freezes me in place. Brandon Senior’s coughing follows, and my instincts have me recoiling under the desk, acting before I can even think. Seeking a shelter where I do not have to be subjected to Brandon Senior barking a list of commands at me, when all I want to do right now is talk to Shane, I sink back against the interior wall in the cubbyhole meant only for my legs, inside the darkness.
“What the hell happened back there at the building?” I hear him demand, assuming he’s on the phone.
The door shuts with a thud. “Martina happened,” Shane says, his voice delivering both relief and regret. I’m under the desk. I’m eavesdropping when that was not my intent. I want to get up. I should get up. I scoot forward, and Brandon Senior says, “In case you forgot, son, I’m headed to Germany, with a lot to do in advance. Save me the effort of leading questions and summarize.”
“Gladly,” Shane states. “Martina and his group of legit investors want to insert their illegal drug into a drug study and get it approved by the FDA. They don’t, however, want to stop pushing it illegally through our operation, unless we corrupt a competitor and help them do so, in which case we’re tied to it anyway. I drew a line in the sand. Without question, today’s events amount to his answer.”
Brandon Senior laughs. “A bomb threat and smoke are his answer. Sounds like Adrian is still playing frat-boy games. I don’t see the problem here. Get rid of him.”
“Says the man who wasn’t around when the smoke cleared,” Shane bites out, his voice tight, his anger palpable even to me. “Adrian left us a gift in that smoke. A crate holding my missing security person, who was naked, beaten, and missing a finger. A man with a family and kids.”
I cover my mouth, forcing myself not to gasp, my lashes lowering with the effort. I can’t even process what I’ve just heard, but Brandon Senior seems to have no trouble. “Now that we know the real story, what are we going to tell the press, our staff and stockholders, and your mother?”
I blink. That’s all? I’m angry with Martina. I’m scared over what he might do next. I’m guilty for being the person Ted was guarding. And all Brandon Senior does is brush past it?
“That’s all?” Shane demands, clearly agreeing with me. “A man with a wife and kids who was protecting us lost his finger and damn near his life, and you have nothing more to say?”
“Let me make myself perfectly clear to you, son,” Brandon Senior states. “I’m not dying. I’m retaining control of this company, and overreactive, emotional responses are not productive and, in fact, most often, are destructive. Now, what is our cover story?”
“Today’s events were unrelated to us” is the reply, and this time it’s Derek’s voice. “They appear to be directed at Ted, personally, as a potential act of revenge for a military operation he participated in some years ago.”
Ted becomes the fall guy, I think. I don’t know him, but I do know that he was on my security detail and now his life is forever changed. “Weigh in here, Shane,” Brandon Senior presses, surprising me by caring about anyone’s opinion but his own.
“It’s an acceptable solution,” Shane replies, “on the condition we write Ted a ridiculously large check.”
“How ridiculously large?” Brandon Senior queries.
“As large as I see fit,” Shane replies.
Senior’s disapproval crackles in the air, but he concedes. “Do it,” he says, and then changes the topic. “And get rid of Martina while I’m gone.”
Footsteps following, and then the door opens. The instant it closes, Derek reacts. “I’m really fucking tired of being the ball boy picking up his fucking foul balls.”
“Then don’t be the ball boy,” Shane says. “Especially when he throws the ball in puddles of shit the size of a lake.”
“We can’t just get Adrian out,” Derek says. “You get that, right?”
“Do you want him out?”
“My answer to that question is irrelevant. This isn’t a sandbox. We don’t just throw sand in his eyes and he’s gone. Because he’ll come back with a baseball bat and start swinging.”
“Do you want him out, Derek?” Shane presses, but a knock sounds on the door before Derek replies.
A moment later, Cody says, “I need to talk to you, Shane.”
“Come in,” Shane welcomes.
“Alone,” Cody counters. “I need to see you alone.”
“Derek stays,” Shane states, rejecting his request. “What’s happening?”
The door shuts, and Cody speaks again. “I didn’t make the decision to bypass the coffee shop to come here for your father today. Ramon followed us when we left the building.”
My heart starts to race and I sit up straighter, my hand on the wood above my head, bracing myself for whatever comes next.
“That said,” Cody continues, “I do not think Adrian is a man of excess, and further action against you at this point would not fit his profile. But I wasn’t taking a chance.”
“He won’t hurt Emily,” Derek interjects. “There is a code in the cartel. The women—mother, sister, wife, girlfriend—are off-limits, at least until revenge is on the table.”
“Agreed,” Cody says, “if we’re talking about Adrian. Ramon’s another story. He’s a wild card, known to have gone rogue on occasion, and not to Adrian’s liking.”
“And Adrian tolerates this why?” Shane asks.
“Ramon’s really damn good at covering up Adrian’s secrets,” Cody explains. “He’s his shield.”
“Then we need to remove his shield,” Shane states, his voice hardening. “If I wanted to get rid of Ramon, how would I go about that?”
I stiffen, my fingers curling in my palms, not quite sure what he’s asking. Or maybe I am. Is he—could he—be suggesting …
“Definitely get rid of him,” Cody urges, as if he’s heard my thoughts.
“Any way that makes him disappear from my li
fe and Emily’s,” Shane says, no hesitation in his response.
Oh God, I think, my hand going to my neck. He really is talking about killing Ramon.
“Give us a moment to talk, Cody,” Derek orders.
“Stay, Cody,” Shane counter-orders. “If I want to get rid of him, how do I do it?”
“Before I give you my answer,” Cody says, “I want to preface it by saying that I just finished three years undercover inside a competing cartel. These people are not human. They’re brutal. Ramon is one of the worst of them. Adrian’s hands remain clean because Ramon allows him to keep them that way. Ramon has murdered and raped countless people. Why am I telling you this? Because if I could wipe the earth of that scum, I would.”
“But you won’t do it,” Shane supplies for him.
“It’s not a matter of won’t. It’s a matter of staying alive. All of us. You’re on Adrian’s radar. You’re his challenger. If anything happens to Ramon, he’ll look to you.”
“He’s right,” Derek confirms. “Ramon’s untouchable right now.”
“Put him in jail,” Shane counters. “Find one of those rapes and murders and make sure the charges stick.”
“Same story,” Cody replies. “Adrian looks to you.”
“He’s not untouchable,” Shane says, his tone low but lethal, even vehement. “I don’t accept that answer. Talk to Nick. Go see Ted. Get motivated.”
Cody is silent for several beats, in which his resistance is palpable, but he finally concedes. “I’ll have a discussion with Nick.” Footsteps follow and the door opens and closes before Shane sideswipes me by attacking Derek. “What the hell were you thinking going into business with a drug cartel, Derek?”
“What was I thinking? I was thinking that our father ordered me to do it, and you were trying to take my place in the company I’ve lived for all my life. Did I think it would turn out like this? No. Am I on board to shut him down and get him out? Yes. But as you sit on that high horse, ride it on over to a mirror, baby brother. How quickly the golden boy decided to murder someone.”
“You saw Ted’s condition,” Shane reminds him.” You know what Ramon is capable of doing.”
“And he has his eyes on Emily.”
“He has his eyes on Teresa too. You say you care about her. He should be a problem for you as well.”
I blink in surprise and confusion. Derek cares about Teresa? I had no idea he could care about anyone, but if he has mustered emotions for this woman, I have a feeling this complicates, rather than helps, our situation.
“How then,” Shane continues, “can you care for Teresa and want Ramon free to hurt her?”
“Teresa’s Adrian’s sister,” Derek replies. “He won’t touch her.”
“But he will hurt you. Ramon will put you in a crate the first chance he gets, and it will be personal. He didn’t know Ted. Ted’s condition will be mild compared to what he does to you.”
“I’m not saying he doesn’t need to die,” Derek concedes. “But I’m not ready to say that yet, and you, my brother, got to that point in two seconds flat, the way Adrian would have. We are not the same, Shane. You and Adrian are. Why do you think he gravitates to you? You’re cold. You’re calculated. And you want power.”
“I want our family name protected. I want it to mean something.”
“Your name. Adrian’s name. You both want to win, and you need to remember that staying alive is winning. And once the bodies start piling up, they just keep piling up.”
“Ramon’s the only person we’re talking about here. Unless there’s more you know about?”
“I’m done with this conversation. I’m going to go instruct Jessica to leak our newly created ‘Ted story’ to the whole damn planet in an effort to get the press of our backs. And if we can’t get the hell out of this hotel, I’m going to expedite getting us all private rooms so we don’t kill each other.”
I hear him moving to the door. It opens, but Derek isn’t quite done yet. “He killed his brother, you know,” he says.
“Who?” Shane asks.
“Adrian.”
“His father killed his brother.”
“Adrian set his brother up. Made it look like his brother betrayed his father, when it was Adrian who did it.”
There is silence then, followed by more silence, before the door shuts. Then there is no movement, no sound, and I think Shane has left with Derek, while Derek’s words and accusations have not: Shane is like Adrian. And Adrian is a brutal monster. Derek believes it too. He’s built Shane up to be the enemy when he is not. Yes, Shane wants to kill Ramon. I believe that 100 percent. I try to get my head around that. It’s wrong. I get that too. It’s murder, as Derek pointed out, but I simply can’t condemn Shane for trying to protect us all, and for something he hasn’t even done yet.
Suddenly a pair of familiar legs appears in front of me. Shane’s legs. I swallow hard and scoot forward to be offered his hand. And when I press my palm to his, heat that has nothing to do with sex—okay, maybe a little to do with sex, but more so our connection—slides up my arm and across my chest. He pulls me to my feet, and I lean against the desk while he presses his hands on the wood on either side of me. “How long did you know I was there?”
“The entire time.”
“How did you know I was there?”
“I could smell you, feel you.”
I’m stunned. Confused. Pleased. Trapped by my own bad actions. “I’m sorry. Your father came in hacking when I was already bending down to get something, and I just … I couldn’t deal with him again right at that moment. Only it wasn’t just him looking for me, and I couldn’t figure out how or when to make my presence known.”
“Do you know one of the things I love about you?”
“What?”
“That even when it’s painful, like now, even when things don’t go as planned, you tell me the truth.”
“You know about my family. You know honesty is important to me.”
“And you know my family. You know me, Emily.”
“I do know you.”
“Then I think you know this as well. I am a Brandon. At my core, I know Derek is right. I am cold. I am calculating. I do want to win. And I will not let Martina win.”
“I see all those things.”
“The things that torment me relate to my family, and to you. I will not lose them. I will not lose you. I will, however, kill Ramon, and when it’s done, I will wake up relieved, not tormented.”
My hand settles on his chest, his heart thundering under my palm, telling me that beneath his calm, unaffected demeanor, he is, in fact, affected. And what he feels worries me more than what he says. “I’m afraid of this changing you.”
“This is me, Emily. I’m not changing. I’m just being me in these circumstances. That’s what I’m telling you.”
“People change, Shane. Life changes them.”
His fingers slide under my hair and wrap around my neck, dragging my mouth to his. “We won’t change.” His mouth brushes mine, tongue doing a sultry, slow lick before he vehemently murmurs, “I love you too damn much to lose you.”
I want to respond, to tell him he won’t, and that I love him too, but he doesn’t give me a chance. He kisses me again, this time with a deep stroke of his tongue, followed by another, and I feel it everywhere, all over, inside and out. And he’s different now, the torment of last night gone, as if he’s stopped fighting who, and what, he believes himself to be. I don’t know if that is good or bad. Good, I think, because he’s clear-minded. Because he’s being honest with himself and me.
I lean into him and he into me, and it’s as if a charge ignites between us. Suddenly, our kiss is deeper, our hands are all over each other, and there is nothing but this need to feel each other. This hunger between us, this burn. There is no alarm. There is no smoke. No problems. There is just our need for more of each other, and I barely even know how my dress is up to my waist and how I’m sitting on the desk, my legs wide, as they were on hi
s father’s desk earlier. How his fingers find my naked sex and his pants get unzipped. There is just the moment he’s inside me, driving deep. The moment when we are holding on to each other, him inside me, our lips lingering a breath from each other. The moment when that turns into another hot kiss and then him lifting me off the desk, one of his hands cupping my naked backside, my fingers gripping his jacket. And finally the eternity that is too short when I tumble into absolute bliss and he shakes and makes these sexy, intense sounds and follows.
He holds me, seeming as resistant to letting go of us right now as I am, but he caves and sets me down on the desk, his hands going to my face. “I can’t seem to get our clothes off and make love to you.”
“That wasn’t what we needed. Not right now.”
“I do,” he says. “I very much need to make love to you properly. To tell you I love you at the right time and in the right way.”
“Anytime you tell me you love me is the right time and in the right way.”
There’s a knock on the door. “Shane, can we talk?”
It’s Seth, and Shane kisses my forehead, thankfully handing me a tissue he gets from I don’t know where. He pulls out of me then, and I feel the absence, beyond our bodies, but there’s no time to process why. He rights his pants, helps me right my dress, and sets me on the floor before crossing to the door. I slip on my shoes and round the desk to meet him and Seth in the center of the office.
“I closed the office for the afternoon,” Seth states. “Nick and I handled the police. They believe this is related to a case Ted worked for Nick.”
“And Ted was okay with that?” Shane asks. “Is he even able to communicate?”
“He’s improving and agreeable,” Seth says. “The man’s a warrior. We’re keeping the press away from him and planning to get him on a plane to a vacation destination with his family when he’s able.”
“What about the press?” I ask. “Do I need to do anything on that front?”
Seth gives a nod. “Derek and Jessica are actually working together. I’m not sure how or why that’s happening, but they leaked the story to the press, and the stockholders want you or your father, and your father says you need to get your ass on the phone and handle it.”
Bad Deeds Page 16
