Hard Rules

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.”