“My father can reassure you his health is on the mend.”
“I want to talk about what happens if it’s not, and that’s not a conversation that feels appropriate with him present and on his way to treatment.”
“All right then,” I say, unsurprised the bastard doesn’t want to face my father. “Us alone.” I disconnect the line and look between Seth and Cody. “He met with Derek this morning and Derek is aligned with Martina. I need to know if Mike is as well.”
“We’ve found nothing that tells us he is,” Seth says. “And meetings with Derek do not compute to alignment but rather Derek’s attempt to earn his vote.”
“A vote that isn’t happening for at least six months,” I say, “if it happens at all. No. There’s more to this.”
“If I might interject,” Cody says, drawing our attention. “I know the cartels. I know Martina, but he doesn’t know me.”
“And the takeaway?”
“Adrian Martina is one of the shrewdest, most dangerous men I’ve ever studied. If he wants your company, and he does, he would not ignore a key stockholder such as Mike. But that said, he’s calculating. He might not have made contact, but he damn sure has a plan to control Mike and use him if necessary. And let’s just face it. Drugs and basketball equal a variety of scandals he could create for Mike.”
All things I’ve already considered. “He claims he wants to go legitimate.”
“And yet, Ted is missing,” Cody says.
“Point made,” I say, his assessment confirming mine. “Emily’s smart with good common sense. We need her to be part of deciding how we address her protection.” I look at Cody. “Follow your existing protocols for now. I’ll talk to her tonight and arrange a sit-down.”
“I’m in the hotel room around the clock when she’s home,” Cody says. “Just say the word and I’ll be there.”
I look at Seth and he reads my mind before I speak. “Mike. I know.”
We all stand, but when Seth is about to leave, Cody isn’t moving, his gaze locked on me. “In the old-school Mexican culture, brothers are possessive of their sisters,” he says. “Teresa can protect Derek to some degree, but the minute Adrian feels he’s locked you down, your brother becomes disposable. If Derek makes one wrong move with Teresa, Ramon will kill him.”
The impact of his assessment hits me with the force of a hundred accurate blows. He’s right, as Adrian already believes Derek used Teresa to get to him. “Since you’re sharing your opinions,” I say, “what will motivate Adrian to get out of our operation?”
“I might have more to offer once I get my feet wet, but for now … cartels know three things: money, trouble, and blood, but they always follow the money.”
“We need to be the trouble and the blood,” Seth says, eyeing a text message and then glancing at Cody. “Shane and I need to speak alone.”
“Understood,” Cody says, giving me a mock salute and heading for the door as Seth’s phone now begins to ring.
“Nick,” Seth tells me, taking the call while Cody exits and shuts the door.
I turn and face the window, hands sliding under my jacket to my hips, Cody’s words in my mind: The minute Adrian feels he’s locked you down, your brother becomes disposable.… Ramon will kill him. Even if I were to pull Derek to our side, which is unlikely, that relationship with Teresa is a thorn-covered rose.
Seth steps to my side. “Still no Ted. Still no leads. I don’t think I have to tell you where my head is going on this.”
He thinks Ted is dead. So do I. “No,” I say. “You do not.”
We stand there for several beats, heaviness in the air, and then I turn to him. “What’s on your mind?”
He faces me. “Send him back to Mexico in a wooden box,” he says, repeating my words. “You understand that might be what this comes down to, right?”
“I understand completely,” I say, expecting regret or guilt that doesn’t come. These people will kill everyone who has ever spoken to me, and they won’t blink.
“‘See something, say something’ is what Cody told Emily. All I want to hear from you is ‘see something, do something,’ and I’ll protect you from the details.”
“I don’t want to be protected. See something, we’ll do something.”
He studies me for several beats, his stare probing, assessing, looking for a sign that this is my hesitation or weakness, but it is not. It’s my full willingness to do what I have to do. He sees it too. It’s in the shift of his eyes and the slow nod of his head before he walks toward the door. I face the window again, inhaling on the promise that I have never been more of a Brandon than I am in this moment.
EMILY
For two hours, I dodge and weave through one call after another as Brandon Senior shouts orders at me, but one good piece of news manages to find its way into the fold. The analyst Shane had me contact sometime back about our options for an acquisition in the fashion industry followed up with me. We now have a recommendation to bid on a company we can get at a steal of a price.
I’m about to sneak to Shane’s office and talk to him about it when my intercom buzzes. “My office, Ms. Stevens.”
I stand to do as ordered when Maggie appears in a wave of sweet-smelling perfume, stretching her normally all-black wardrobe by wearing a pale pink pantsuit, her eyes bloodshot and her skin washed out. She stops at my desk and punches the intercom. “Emily is taking a thirty-minute break from her desk.” She eyes me. “Go.”
“Are you okay?”
“No,” she shocks me by saying. “I’m not okay. Please go.”
I nod and step around my desk, hurrying through the lobby and down the hall. And while I do not think good things are going on in Brandon Senior’s office right now, Maggie is here. They are together, and that is step one toward making peace. Or war. God. I hope it’s peace they find, I think, reaching the end of the hallway leading to the alcove that houses Derek’s and Shane’s offices. I start to turn left toward Shane’s, but Derek’s secretary passes me and I stop dead when I realize his door is open. Maggie might be making peace at this very moment. Maybe I can at least open a door to some myself.
Steeling myself for probable failure and certain confrontation, I step forward and, decision made, charge in Derek’s direction. Never pausing, I enter his office, shut the door, and turn to face him. He glances up from his desk, a look of surprise on his face before he tosses his pencil onto the desk and leans back. “Did you finally figure out I’m the right brother?”
“Shane’s not your enemy.”
“Says the woman banging him.”
“Why do you have to be so crude?” I ask.
“My father taught me that skill with admirable insistence. I never put skills to waste.”
“Shane’s not your enemy,” I repeat. “He had an amazing career in New York. He’s only here, doing all he’s doing, to save the company you seem to love.”
“Take off the rose-colored glasses, Emily. Shane is not as admirable as you seem to think.”
“Shane is not trying to take over the company, Derek. You’re his brother—”