Damage Control (Page 33)

“Adrian Martina,” I say, making it clear I know I am talking to the second in the Martina cartel, and the man my brother has brought to my doorstep.

“Shane Brandon,” he replies. “It’s time we talk, don’t you think?” He pops open the door and I show no hesitation getting in. Fear doesn’t win. And I’m going to win.

I climb into the double backseat, sitting across from him, and shut the door. Adrian hits the button to raise the window that seals us away from the driver. He is refined in every way, his suit a glossy pale blue that practically gleams money.

Our eyes meet, and in his I feel the push for control, the hunger for power and money he already possesses but wants more of. The things that draw him to my brother, but also put them at odds, as they want the same things. “I understand we’re practically family.”

I arch a brow. “How exactly is that?”

“You don’t know your brother and my sister are dating?”

“Dating doesn’t constitute family.”

“I understand that might change.” I don’t react, though I silently vow to cage my brother before he marries us to a cartel. “Mexicans take family to heart. It’s serious. It’s business.”

“My business is not your business.”

“Your brother’s business is my business,” he counters.

“If my brother controlled Brandon Enterprises, that would be true, but he doesn’t. Just as you don’t control your family operation.”

“Our fathers,” he says. “Both ready to retire.” His lips quirk slightly. “In their own ways.”

The inference that mine will soon die is without question, and is meant to gain a reaction I don’t give him. “Since when is your father ready to retire?”

“Whether he does or does not, I am heir to all that is his, but you, my new friend, we both know, cannot say the same.”

“Don’t believe everything my brother tells you. He’ll land you in jail.”

“Yes. About that. I understand you have Feds sniffing around.”

“And the irony of that is that it’s unrelated to whatever arrangement you’ve made with my brother, but not unrelated to him. He bribed an inspector to get drug approval.” Surprise flickers in his eyes. “He didn’t tell you,” I say, jumping on this. “Or he didn’t tell you the truth. But then why would he want you to know that he’s done something to assure the Feds are all over us.”

“Surely you can clean it up.”

“Had I not cleaned up a mess with the Feds my brother created a year ago, you’d be right.” I lean in and rest my elbows on my knees. “There’s a reason no other operation such as yours has infiltrated the legit market. It’s swarming with Feds. Get out before my brother hands you, and me, to them on a silver platter.”

“I don’t want out. I want you in.”

“That will never happen.” I open the door and get out, and he rolls the window down to glance at me.

“The Feds will find nothing wrong inside your operations. You have my word. And I am a man of my word.” The window closes.

I am a man of my word, as well, I think as the SUV drives away, and when I said his business is not my business, I meant it. I turn to find the Bentley gone as I expect it to be, and while Emily has driven it away, she is still consuming my thoughts and in my life in a way that means I have more on the line than ever. I head toward the elevator and start walking, removing my phone as I do to key in Seth’s number. He doesn’t answer.

“I’m at my apartment, alone. Meet me here. We have a mammoth-sized fucking situation I can’t talk about on the phone.” I end the call, but the problem keeps growing.

By the time I’m back inside my apartment, my mind is replaying Martina’s words. The Feds will find nothing wrong inside your operations. I head to the kitchen and start a cup of coffee, trying to convince myself that Martina is using our labels, but not our facility, and that security breach last night was just a glitch. I reach for my coffee, and start doctoring it my way, while I replay Adrian’s statement again. Damn it to hell. He said “operations,” as in plural, and a man like him does not make slips of the tongue. I lean on the counter. We know for a fact that the transportation division in Boulder is moving drugs, which means Adrian’s message is he cleaned up the evidence, at least for now. I’m not comforted, not even slightly.

My gaze lifts and catches on the folder Seth had found in Emily’s desk, and I sit down on the barstool I’d claimed earlier and start reading. Emily said she felt like something was off in the paperwork, and that premise always has legs when it comes to my father. And one of the reasons my father likes hedge funds is how under regulated they are. How easily the manager of the fund—him in this case—can manipulate the money. It’s gray water that leads to a black hole that seems to be opening up on all sides of this company and my family, with Emily along for the ride. Because I have no doubt Martina chose to approach me when I was with her for a reason. It was a threat. The entire meeting was one big not-so-subtle threat.

CHAPTER NINE

EMILY

I pull the Bentley into Shane’s reserved parking spot in the private garage of the high-rise Brandon Enterprises calls home and kill the engine, having taken no joy in driving it. Not when whatever happened back there was trouble. I open the door and grab my purse, settling it on my shoulder, and step out of the car. Pausing, I check my coat pocket and my phone just to be sure my brother hasn’t called. And he hasn’t. After the desperate messages I left him, he hasn’t called and I have to be angry, otherwise I’ll start thinking of him lying in a puddle of blood. No matter what, that would destroy me.