The Empire

by Lisa Renee Jones

  I almost forget the assassin and the family, but watching Eric slide a gun into the back of his pants is a jolt of reality. “Is it safe to go out?”

  “I had Blake heighten our security again just to be certain. He has several men following us and we’re not hiding. Not now. Not ever. That doesn’t end this. It drags it out.” He helps me with my coat and then turns me to face him, his hands sliding to my face. “We’re well-covered. You have my word.”

  I decide just to trust him, of course, I trust him. The assassin is gone, though that feels odd to me and I find Eric’s gun comforting. “I need to go to the shooting range and practice,” I say, as we exit the apartment.

  “I think that’s a mandatory item for our to-do list,” Eric agrees. “And we’ll get you a personal weapon.”

  I’m not sure if it’s legal to carry in New York City, but I don’t care or ask. I need a weapon, at least until this is all over.

  ***

  The walk is short but chilly, however walking arm and arm with Eric while he tells me about the NFL deal is more than a little perfect. I don’t care about the cold. Soon we’re in a cozy corner booth with floral-printed seats and a wooden table, with egg white omelets and coffee in front of us, both of us talking about the city when Eric’s cellphone buzzes. He grabs it, reads a message and while his expression is unchanged, there is a slight crackle in the air, a barely perceptible tension in the line of his jaw. He sets his phone down. I study him. “What just happened?”

  “You read me that well?”

  “Yes. What just happened?”

  “No one reads me that well.”

  “Eric—”

  “Isaac managed to slip past the guy who was watching him.” He sips his coffee. “They don’t know where he is.”

  My eyes go wide. “What? When did this happen?”

  “On our way over here. They’re watching my father, Grayson, and Mia. And us. They have a man on us.”

  “Because you think Isaac wants to do what?”

  “Why don’t you ask Isaac,” Isaac says, sliding into the booth in front of us.

  My eyes go wide and Eric’s hand slides to my leg, warning me to stay calm, telling me that he’s here, he’s got this. He’s in control. Isaac, on the other hand, doesn’t look in control. His hair is rumpled, dark circles shadowing underneath his eyes, his lips dry and cracked. “Let’s have a real talk, brother.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Eric

  I stare across the table at Isaac, really damn tired of his games. I can’t stand the man and he’s not even tolerable as a puzzle I need to solve. That ship sailed almost the day I met him. He’s never been hard to figure out. He’s perpetually a power-hungry egomaniac, which drives his desperation when he wants and needs things. There’s no playing his cards close to his vest, and the less I say, the more he’ll demand and in his demands, he always solves the puzzle, gives too much, far more than he realizes.

  “Coffee?” I offer, motioning to the waitress with a pot in her hand and turning over the cup on the saucer in front of him.

  The waitress fills his cup. “Can I get you anything else, sir?” she asks.

  Isaac waves her off without so much a glance in her direction, and the message is clear: she’s beneath him. He forces everyone he can beneath him. That’s his way. Lift himself up by pushing others down. It’s what he tried to do to me from the day he met me. As if I could come in and claim his empire when I’m not even a full-blooded heir.

  “You were right,” Isaac states, sipping his coffee black because of course, cream and sugar wouldn’t be manly. “We have trouble with the mob, but they didn’t leave the note. I left you that note in dad’s room.”

  I add some extra cream to my coffee. I might even add more sugar. Fuck Isaac and all his bullshit.

  “Did you hear me?” he demands. “I left the note.”

  “I didn’t know there was a question.”

  “You mean the note where you threatened me again?” Harper demands. “When you used me against him?”

  He scowls at her. “I’m not behind the attack on you.”

  “Then who was?” Harper demands. “Your father? The mob? Because we all know you were ready to set me up with them.”

  He grimaces and eyes me, dismissing her accusations. “Dad knew you’d think it was me. He came here to convince you that it was not. Because the last fucking thing we need right now is to have you coming at us, too.”

  I smirk. “Come at you? Why would I do that? We’re family. Right, Isaac?”

  “We are family. Which means the mob will eventually come for you and Harper. They will find someone in this family to make our problems with them right. Deal with them now or deal with them later.”

  I laugh and sip my coffee. “You won’t make me feel like a target. I’m not. You won’t force me to help. I won’t. You won’t use Harper as leverage. I’ll fucking make you pay for that ten times over.”

  “You don’t know who you’re dealing with,” Isaac hisses, leaning in closer and pokes at the table. “This is the mob. They will come for you.”

  “How’d you even get in bed with the mob, Isaac?” Harper demands.

  He scowls at her. “I didn’t get involved with the damn mob, Harper. I was dealing with the union.”

  “Everyone knows the mob and the unions have been in bed,” I say. “I assume you borrowed money, and then couldn’t pay it back.”

  “One of the higher-ups at the union offered us an influx of cash to grow the business. He wanted more jobs. I wanted more money. It was a match made to happen.”

  “Isn’t it illegal to get into bed with the union?” she challenges. “Or at least unethical?”

  “Fuck your moral compass, Harper,” Isaac snaps. “I was trying to do what was best for the company. We were falling behind, thanks to those recalls.” He eyes the jaguar on my arm. “Our competition is thriving. We are not.”

  I think through what I know and make assumptions. “You cut corners. It caused the recalls. The recalls caused financial distress. You borrowed Harper’s trust fund but it wasn’t enough so you borrowed money from the mob.”

  “The union,” he bites out, denying nothing I’ve stated.

  “Which is the mob,” I remind him. “Once you owe them money, they will find a way to get the money which is why you don’t do it. Good luck to you, brother. You’re going to need it.” I flag the waitress. “Check, please.”

  Isaac leans in close. “You’re a part of this. Why do you think dad’s in that bed right now? Why do you think Harper was attacked?”

  “So you do know details of my attack?” Harper challenges.

  He ignores her. “Those attacks were a message to you and me. Fix this or else our people will get hurt. I’m not making this shit up.”

  Which means he’s making at least some of this shit up.

  “Be smart,” he says. “Aren’t you a genius?”

  “It doesn’t take a genius to stay away from this,” I say.

  “Your woman and your father were both attacked,” he snaps, his foot tapping under the table, a nervous tic he’s favored all his life, at least since I’ve known him. “Ignoring that sounds pretty fucking stupid to me.”

  “How much do you owe?” Harper asks.

  “Yes, how much do you owe, brother?”

  “Five million.”

  Harper gasps. I laugh. “I’ll make sure you get a really snazzy casket when the time comes.”

  “Give me a stock tip,” Isaac urges. “One that gets me the money to pay this debt off. Then it’s not your money. Like you did for dad that time.”

  He says that statement with absolute disgust, as if that action I took has been rubbed in his face over and over. Without a doubt, it has, and I get it. Dad sucks that way. He used me to abuse him, but holy fuck, he deserves to be abused. “No,” I say simply.

  “You’re a stockholder now,” he reminds me. “You think they won’t come for you?”

  “I could offer my
stock to the mob,” I suggest sardonically. “Will that work for you?”

  He leans forward, fingers curled in his palms, fists ready to lash out. “This is not a fucking game.”

  I consider him a moment, his eyes all but bulging with anger, a muscle in his jaw ticking. A look he wears often. A look I know well. It’s called busted. “You’re lying,” I say. “There’s more to the story and until you tell me everything, you’re on your own.”

  “You’re a fool who’s going to regret this,” Isaac snaps. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” And with that threat, he starts to get up.

  “What was dad going to tell me when you had him poisoned?” I ask. “What don’t you want me to know?”

  He twists back around to face me, his eyes burning into mine. “If I was going to poison anyone, it would be you.”

  “You’ll never get that stock tip if I’m dead, brother.”

  His eyes glint and then he looks at Harper, his eyes lingering on her a moment before he returns his attention to me and says, “You’re going to help me, Eric. You just don’t know it yet.” He gets up to leave.

  I read the message loud and clear. I stand and step in front of him. “Do not push me, Isaac,” I say, my voice low, lethal. “If anything happens to Harper, I will strip you down to your underwear financially and stick you in a corner with your thumb in your mouth. Now, I suggest you leave before I decide to act on my fantasies right now, and they aren’t nearly as kinky as they are bloody.” I step aside.

  He smirks. “For a smart guy, you’re just as fucking stupid as ever and I predict you’ll agree with me sooner rather than later.” He starts walking away and it’s all I can do not to yank him back, take him to the bathroom and beat answers out of him. And I might’ve done just that if Harper didn’t step in front of me, hands on my chest.

  “Whatever you want to do right now,” she says, “kiss me instead.”

  I might just do that, kiss her right here in the middle of the diner, drive away all the demons my brother represents with the sweet taste of her, but we’re not alone. Savage steps behind her, a grim look on his face that says he has news. And it’s not good.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Eric

  Harper must follow my stare over her shoulder because she twists around. “Savage,” she gasps, and I know why. Aside from his presence being unexpected, he’s a big, unexpected surprise, with a deep scar down his cheek, but he also has a bruise the size of Texas covering one eye. “What happened to your eye?” she demands, somehow managing to be accusing and worried, a hint of urgency to her tone that tells a story. She’s afraid whatever hit him, is about to blast our way.

  So the fuck am I.

  Savage’s eyes meet mine before they light with amusement on Harper. “Worried about me? Or sending me to my room for being a bad boy? Because the only women who send me to my room, since my mama and my grandmama, want to join me, and you fit neither definition.” He glances at me. “I couldn’t resist, man. Don’t punch me.”

  “The list of people I want to punch right now include my brother and my father,” I say quite honestly.

  “Me and my best friend got in a fight over a Snickers bar. That’s the truth and don’t ask for details. They’re too sordid.” He eyes me over her head. “Let’s sit so I can speak freely.”

  I nod and ease Harper over to the booth, helping her slide in again. By the time I’ve joined her, Savage is sitting directly across from me. “What happened to your eye, Savage?” Harper presses.

  “Same story, Harper,” he says. “I’m sticking with it.”

  I can see a man avoiding a dark alley he doesn’t want to travel, and I help him redirect. “Did you find the guy that cornered Harper at the hospital?”

  “Yes,” Savage says, and I can feel the punch of his relief that we’re moving on, mixed with the grimness of his answer, even before he finishes with, “in a hotel bed, with his throat cut.”

  Harper sucks in air. “Oh God. Oh God.” She turns to me. “Eric.”

  I stroke her hair. “Easy, baby. It’s going to be okay.”

  That earns me instant rejection. “It’s not okay,” she insists. “Nothing about any of this is okay.”

  “We are,” I say. “We are. And we’re what matters when this is all over and done.”

  “And you’re going to stay okay,” Savage assures her. “Better than okay. You have Eric and you have me, as well as my badass team.”

  “Isaac got to us.”

  He flicks a look at me. “I sent you a text giving you the heads up about Isaac.”

  I glance at my phone. “So you did.” I squeeze Harper’s leg and glance down at her. “I had other things on my mind.”

  “We need this over, Eric,” she whispers. “We need it over.”

  I know she’s talking about me forcing us to take a break, but I did that for a reason. “One thing I’ve learned in my life, in the SEALs more than anywhere, is that pushing harder doesn’t lead to an end. When you push too hard, too fast, just to do something, you end up doing the wrong something.” I look at Savage. “What about the woman who was with the man at the hospital?”

  “We caught her on camera leaving the hotel. We’ve been working to ID her along with law enforcement, and so far, it’s a no go on a name.”

  “Wait,” Harper says, her hands flattening on the table. “Are you suggesting that the woman that was with him killed him?”

  “That’s what we believe,” Savage replies, eyeing me. “That’s our working hypothesis.”

  “Go further with that,” I urge, wanting to know where the Walker team is taking this. “Play along. Assume out loud. Tell me where your head is right now.”

  Savage’s eyes light and he leans forward. “Assuming you’re right, and the message our newly dead, fake FBI consultant, gave Harper was from Gigi, the man and the woman worked for Gigi.”

  “But you think the woman killed the man,” Harper says, jumping in. “How does that make sense?”

  “Exactly,” Savage says. “Which means that Isaac found out about them, but the man couldn’t be bought.”

  “So they ended him,” Harper supplies, following his lead.

  “Or,” I suggest. “He knew too much, maybe even tried to use it against Gigi, and she had him dealt with.”

  “Gigi,” Harper says, sitting up straighter. “I got an international call earlier.” She eyes me. “I told you, right?” She doesn’t wait for a reply. She is back to Savage. “Did your team track it?”

  “It came from a café in Italy,” he says. “And yes. We believe that has to be Gigi and we’re homing in on her.”

  “She must be trying to warn us,” Harper says. “She didn’t have that man killed. Isaac did. This is all Isaac.”

  “No,” I say, my fingers thrumming on the counter. “Gigi is not the good guy in this.”

  “That doesn’t mean she wasn’t warning you about Isaac,” Savage interjects.

  I follow where he leads. “She just wants me to share the same enemies. He wants me to get rid of his enemies.”

  “That doesn’t make sense if we’re talking about Isaac,” Harper argues. “He’s her grandson. She knows how much you hate him. She knows pitting you against him, with you in the know, doesn’t end well for Isaac.”

  “Which means one of three things,” I say. “One: she’s not warning you at all. She’s hoping to use you again in some way. Two: it’s not Isaac that she wants to warn you about at all. Or Three: Isaac’s desperate enough to pay off the mob, to kill everyone who stands between him and the inheritance. We need to know what was in those messages. Where those birth certificates they pushed us toward lead us.”

  “But if your theory is correct,” Harper says, “they may just be leading us down a rabbit hole that Gigi dug for us.”

  I toss money on the table. “I’ll know when we get that information,” I say, eyeing Savage. “When do we get that information?”

  “That’s in Blake’s court,” he says.

/>   I glance at my watch. “I have meetings to get to. I need an update on those birth certificates. Text me when you get them in. And Isaac admitted a problem with the mob. He wants me to give him a stock tip to fix it. I’m not giving him the chance to offer up my services to the mob, and link me to all of this. I need to talk to the guy he’s talking to over there. Get me a number.”

  Savage arches a brow. “You’re going to call a mob boss on the phone?”

  “He’s just a man. You know that, Savage. We’ve both seen war and we both know how war tears away the armor and gets down to the skin and bones.”

  “But he doesn’t think he’s in a war. He thinks he’s hunting prey in your family and starting a war with him would be like saying you were taking on the Taliban by yourself, with the Walker army and nothing more.”

  I consider that a moment. “I don’t want a war with the mob. I want to help them fight the war they have with my brother. If it even exists.” On that note, I stand and pull Harper across the seat to her feet, my hand settling on her hip. “Let’s go buy an NFL team.” I kiss her. “Sound good?”

  “Yes, but—”

  I kiss her. “No but, baby. This will be over soon. I feel it. Don’t you feel it?”

  “I do,” Savage says, unfolding that big body of his to join me. “This is all about to blow the fuck up.”

  Harper’s eyes go wide, and I grimace. Thank you, fucking Savage. I take Harper’s hand and lead her through the diner and away from Savage. We exit to the outdoors, and I quickly pull her to the side of the door, behind a big fake tree of some sort, where I press her to the wall. “This is about to be over.”

  “But what does that look like?”

  “Us, baby.” I lean in and kiss her, tasting the fear on her lips that I don’t want to exist. “Us,” I repeat. “Us living a new life together, which we’re starting now. Us happily ever after.”

  “You aren’t the happily ever after kind of guy.”