“You’ll do,” I say, reaching for my coffee and bypassing it to pick up Emily’s instead, or rather holding it captive for the return I doubt she’ll make.
“Good to see you too,” he says, the words dripping with his trademark sarcasm, which five years of knowing him has taught me to expect.
“Bring me good news for once,” I say, motioning us forward, leading the way through several display racks of chocolates and coffees, as well as a trio of empty tables, to claim a seat at a corner table facing the entryway.
Seth sits next to me rather than across from me, keeping an eye on the door, the ex-CIA agent in him ever present, his skills and loyalty paired with his no-nonsense attitude only a few of the reasons I recruited him from my firm in New York. He opens a large white envelope and pulls out a picture, setting it in front of me. “The private security company we contracted to do surveillance on your brother delivered this to me about an hour ago.”
I stare down at the image of my brother handing a large envelope to a man I’ve never seen before. I eye Seth. “Who is he?”
“He works for the FDA.”
Any remnant of pleasure I’d taken from the exchange with Emily disappears. “Obviously it’s related to the pharmaceutical division and I don’t even want to think about how many laws we broke in that exchange.”
“That’s why I wanted you to see it right away.”
“Do we know what was in the envelope? Do we know anything?”
“The FDA employee’s name and tenure. That’s about it, but I authorized the security team to follow him as of today.”
I glance at the picture, wrestling with anger that will get me nowhere but the hell to which my brother is trying to drag me. “This is the aftermath of last week’s stockholder meeting. I walked in there singing the praises of BP profit margins, with the promise that once the FDA approves our new asthma drug, it would allow us to let go of all the dirty money.”
“And all they heard was the chance to double their money,” Seth supplies. “Enter Derek, who promises to make it happen in a ploy to claim the table. You knew this could happen. We talked about it. Dishonest people don’t suddenly become honest.”
“No,” I say tightly. “They don’t. And I haven’t been operating with the same killer instincts as I did in the firm or this wouldn’t have happened.”
“Because you still haven’t let go of the firm.”
“It’s not the firm I haven’t let go of. It’s my brother. Because despite my denial, I knew staying meant my brother became my enemy.”
Seth leans closer. “Listen to me, Shane. I’m thirty-five years old. I did seven years in the CIA and five years of contract work all over the world before I happened to take a job that threw us together. I’ve seen monsters. I’ve seen criminals. I’ve seen your family and I say this not just as the person you hired to have your back, but the friend who would have it anyway.” He taps the image of my brother in the photo. “This man is your enemy. And I’m not going to let you forget it.”
“He’s also my brother, and this is my family, who I want to save.”
“You may not be able to.”
“I’m aware of that and if I don’t take this company as my life, the way I did my law career, I won’t succeed. And believe me, I’ve navigated enough family-driven litigation to know that blood divides as easily as it unites, especially when money and power are involved. I have to get ahead of this before we all end up bloody or in jail.”
“So we agree. This is war.”
“It’s always been war. I didn’t want to name it, but I am now. It’s time we go to battle.”
“Meaning what?”
“I played nice for my brother’s sake. Today he put me—us—into the line of fire with the law, and I’m done pulling punches. The number-one obstacle is my need for the board’s vote to gain control.”
“And when exactly is that vote? Because the last I heard, your father wasn’t exactly retiring to hit a bucket list. If he hadn’t dropped twenty pounds in six months, I could forget the man is dying of cancer.”
If only forgetting made it not true. “Whatever the case, a vote now would not be in my favor and since we’ve agreed there isn’t a cure for corruption, our board needs to go away. That’s the only way I can freely dissolve the root of all of our problems, which is Brandon Financial where my father’s spent decades hiding people’s money and doing dirty deals for them. The rest of the companies—trucking, restaurants, real estate, and steel—they’re nothing but shells to hide money for us and those clients.”
“You won’t get rid of them without playing hardball.”
“I didn’t win the case I won, or save my father’s ass from the Feds, by playing softball. This is a chess game, and you can ask my father and brother. I’m damn good at chess, both on the board, and off. Hire the staff you need and get me the kind of leverage I can use to push them out.”
“Dirt or leverage?”
“Isn’t it one and the same with these kinds of people?”
“There can be a fine line.”
“And I’ll evaluate when I have data to analyze but if I don’t do this in one fatal blow, my family will push me out before I can.”
“I’ve already pulled enough substantial ‘dirt’ on everyone to force an exit, with the exception of Mike Rogers. He’s reading clean to me. The man owns a professional basketball team and twenty percent of our stock and I can’t figure out why he’s even risking the liability he knows exists here. He has to have hidden money with your father, but we can’t use that without the threat of the company being exposed.”
“His money is exactly why he’s involved. He has a boatload to hide and invest. He has more to lose when we shut down the investment division than anyone. Interestingly enough, Mike is the only one, aside from me, Derek, and my father, who has the complete list of transactions for the financial division. He could rally people together. He’s dangerous.”
“Why would your father put him on the board and give him that kind of power?”
“Good question, because my father isn’t one to give anyone else power. I’ll ask my mother what she knows. In the meantime, get me what you have on the others.”
“You’re sure your mother’s still on your side?”
“Believe me. My mother doesn’t think orange jumpsuits work for her. Last year’s brush with the law scared the shit out of her. Fortunately for her, I plan to make Brandon Enterprises something far bigger, and more prosperous, than ever before.” I grab the picture and stuff it in the envelope.
“What are you going to do about that?” he asks.
“Use my father to rein in Derek to buy us some time while I prepare to leash him myself. And speaking of Derek, are we sure he doesn’t have anyone inside BP on his payroll?”
“I’m working on that answer.” Seth glances at his watch. “I’m meeting with the head of security at BP in an hour to pick up the logs and camera feed. I’ll review it all tonight and let you know what I find.” He stands, pausing to say, “Cave canem”—Latin for “Beware of the dog” before he heads for the exit.
I stare after him, chewing on the words, my words, I’d said almost daily at the firm right before I went toe-to-toe with opposing counsel, and I understand why Seth repeated them now. It’s a reminder that it isn’t about family anymore. It’s about winning and the “dog” isn’t opposing counsel. It’s my brother, who I fully intend to put on a fucking chain before he ruins us all.
Grabbing the cup off the table, I stand and tip it back, drinking a long, deep swallow, the sweet rich taste of chocolate awakening my taste buds and reminding me of the woman who’d ordered it. Crossing to the trashcan, I decide I know exactly what drew me to Emily. She was strong, but also sweet and soft in all the ways this life, and my family, has made me hard. She’s the kind of woman who would be eaten alive in my world. I toss the cup, and decide it’s a good thing she ran.
Five minutes later, I step off the elevator onto the twenty-fifth
floor and pause to stare at the words BRANDON ENTERPRISES painted on the wall, my gaze focusing on the lion emblem beneath them. It’s meant to represent my father—the king of our jungle, in his own words—and I’d seen him that way until I was about fourteen. From that point forward, he’d become the man he is now, the monster who’ll eat any sheep who dare cross his path and a few who don’t. And I have that killer instinct in me, but I will never be him. It’s a thought that sets me into action again, walking toward the double glass doors of our corporate offices.
I enter the reception area, dominated by a horseshoe desk in the center of a fork of hallways; the bulk of our offices are on the other side of the building. Kelly, the new, twenty-something brassy blonde who handles the desk, straightens on my approach. “Good afternoon, Mr. Brandon.”
“Is my father in?” I ask, stopping directly in front of her.
“Yes, but I believe your brother’s with him.”
“Perfect,” I say. “Don’t warn him I’m headed his direction.”
“But he said—”
Waving a hand at her, I dismiss her objection, cutting left down a short hallway. In a few steps, I’m entering the enclave that is the exterior of my father’s office. And considering my father just burned through his third secretary this year, there’s no one to stop me as I pass the mahogany secretarial desk framed by a giant painting of the Denver skyline to reach the double, floor-to-ceiling wooden doors of his office. Without a knock, I open them and enter the room to find my father sitting behind his ridiculously large half-moon oak desk.
Derek springs from one of the two high-backed leather visitor’s chairs to face me, his tailored blue suit an expensive product of everything wrong with this company and family, and he doesn’t give a shit. In fact, he’s proud of it.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Shane?” he demands. “Don’t you know how to knock?”
I ignore him, closing the distance between me and my father, who just watches my approach, choosing not to speak until I stop in front of his desk, opposite Derek.
“Yes, son,” he demands then, his voice low and controlled, like everything he does. “What the fuck are you doing?”
I’m not fooled by the obvious reprimand, all too aware of the gleam in his eyes that has nothing to do with irritation and everything to do with amusement. He thrives off the war for control he’s stirred between his sons. He’s not repenting for his sins with the grim reaper on his doorstep. He’s daring him to come take him, and as much as I’d like to blame his brain tumor, I can’t. I love my father because he’s my father, but he’s a bastard, which is exactly why I swore I’d never work here.
I reach inside the envelope and remove a photo, tossing both down in front of him. “Do you know who that is?”
Derek replies before my father has the chance. “You said the FDA was keeping us from doubling our money. They aren’t anymore.”
There is pride and victory in his voice that has me checking my anger, and slowly rotating to face him. “Did you read the reports that said the drug isn’t ready for market? We can’t endanger lives.” And because my brother doesn’t seem to have a conscience I add, “It opens us up to lawsuits.”
“That we’ll be able to afford,” Derek argues, “because we’re rolling in cash. And we have you to fight them.”
“People will die,” I bite out.
“Every drug company takes calculated risks,” he counters.
“The drug isn’t ready.”
He rests his hands on the back of one of the two leather chairs separating us. “No one says we don’t keep working on the quality of the product, but I’ve paid to ensure we can take it to market whenever we so choose.”
I mimic his position, my hands settling on the second chair. “Poorly hidden lump-sum payments to various organizations got this company in trouble last year, in case you don’t remember.”
“And you cleaned it up as I’m sure you’ll do again if need be.”
“If this goes sour, I won’t defend you.”
“The pharmaceutical property was your acquisition. You’re linked, baby brother. No one will believe otherwise.”
There’s no missing the threat beneath those words. If he goes down, he’ll do whatever necessary to take me with him. “You want to play God, do it with one of the other six companies under our umbrella.”
“That’s the difference between you and me,” he says. “You want to be God. I, on the other hand, prefer the fires of hell.”
“Until they burn you alive.”
His jaw clenches, his eyes glinting with anger, and while we might look alike, today I face the fact that we share nothing else anymore, most especially this company.
“Come now, brother,” he says, a hint of amusement shading his voice. “You know you wanted that drug approved. And now we have an inspector in our pocket. We should be celebrating.”
I turn to face my father. “You asked me to stay and protect this company after I cleaned up your mess. Rein him in, or the only legacy you’ll end up with will be jail, because I’ll leave. I will walk the fuck away and your little game will be over. And when this explodes in your face, like the last mess did, I won’t fix it this time.”
My father’s lips tighten, eyes sharpen, darken, and while mine might be the same shade of light gray, I refuse to ever let them be as hard and cold. “You do know I’m dying,” he says.
“Which means you have nothing to lose but that legacy,” I say with brutal honesty, because brutal is all he understands. “I have everything to lose and that’s too much. I won’t go to jail for you.”
His lips twist wryly. “This company survived twenty years without your sense of morality.”
“And then you got on the Feds’ watch list with that trade deal that went south. I covered that shit up despite everything I believe in.” Anger and guilt burns through me. “Because you said I had a chance to make things right here once and for all.” I glance at Derek. “You’re still my brother and I am trying to keep you out of jail.”
“Whatever you have to tell yourself to look in the mirror, Shane.”
I don’t justify the snide remark with an answer that will only ignite another attack, instead refocusing on my father. “You know what it takes to keep me here. It’s nonnegotiable.” I turn on my heel, striding toward the door, and the moment my hand closes on the knob, I hear my father speak. “Brandon Pharmaceuticals is yours. Derek will stand down.”
I don’t turn, pausing only long enough to hear Derek’s low curse, nor do I stay for the argument certain to follow. I exit to the exterior office, shutting the door behind me and traveling the secretarial enclave with long, purposeful strides meant to lead me to a stiff drink I normally don’t entertain at this time of the day. An agenda that is derailed as I reach the hallway and my mother steps into my path.
“Shane, sweetie,” she greets me, looking forty when she’s actually fifty-something and sporting a sleek black dress that hugs her curves in a way no son would approve. “Is your father in?” Her brows dip, her hand closing on my arm. “You’re upset. What happened?”
It never ceases to amaze me how quickly she reads what I know is not on my face. “Nothing I can’t handle.” And knowing this isn’t the time or place to talk to her about Mike Rogers, I say, “I have work I need to attend to.”
“You mean you don’t want to talk about it.” Narrowing her pale blue eyes on me, she delicately swipes a lock of her long, dark hair behind one ear. “I don’t even need to know details because we both know you still aren’t listening to me. Take control and then make changes. That’s the only way this works.” She releases me. “I’ll talk to him. Call me later.” She moves around me and I step forward, only to have her stop me. “Oh and honey. If you plan to do more than fuck the woman who put that lipstick on your collar, I expect to meet her.”
I have no idea how lipstick traveled to my collar, and really don’t care, but damn if a taste of the woman who put it there, doesn’t sou
nds really damn good right about now. And if I had her, my mother, and my entire damn family for that matter, wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near her.
Behind every great fortune, there’s a crime.
—Lucky Luciano
CHAPTER TWO
SHANE
Within fifteen minutes of my mother’s “lipstick” announcement, I’m already behind my cherrywood desk in the corner office opposite my brother’s, trying to focus on work, when Jessica, a tall blonde with spiky hair and an attitude, steps into the office.
“Your fresh shirt has arrived,” she says, indicating the garment in her hand. “And let me just say, if the woman responsible for your change of clothes put that scowl on your face, I’m personally requesting there’s no do-over.”
“The lipstick on my collar isn’t what it looks like,” I say, dropping my Montblanc pen on the desk. “If it was, I’d definitely be in a better mood.”
She hangs the shirt on the back of the door. “Sounds like an interesting story we both know you won’t tell me, so I won’t ask.” She crosses to stand in front of my desk and sets two folders in front of me. “The top one contains the top ten most profitable drugs in the world, along with risk assessments, lawsuits, and drug studies. The bottom contains the profiles of the key players who brought them to market.”
“Ever efficient,” I say. “Good work. Is—”
“Yes. Derek returned to his office just after you did.”
In other words, my father shut him down, which is, at least, a small piece of good news.
“Anna, his new secretary, followed him into his office and shut the door, a recent habit they’ve developed. I’m really quite thankful the walls in this place are thick because, I assume, he too will be in need of a fresh shirt. I guess it’s good to have a full-service assistant. She can do it all. I don’t. I won’t. But I promise you, I’m better than her.”
“Ah, Jessica. Leave it to you to keep things in perspective. I keep waiting for the day my brother tries to hit on you to get to my secrets. I want popcorn and front-row seats.”
Hard Rules (Dirty Money #1) Page 2
