Hard Rules

“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?”