Bad Deeds (Dirty Money #3)

“Because it’s going to go well and we’re going to celebrate.”

“I’ve got the bag,” Derek says, snatching it up as another sedan parks in the drive. Two men step out of the back of the vehicle before the driver pulls away.

“Nick’s men,” Seth says, setting down the bags in his hands. “I need to introduce them to the pilot.”

“I’ll get the bags on the plane,” Derek offers, and it’s then that I notice he’s wearing a black suit and a black tie, looking way too much like he’s attending a funeral.

He loads up and takes off walking, while my mother comes to me. “We’ll be back in two weeks, but if you can fly up and see us—”

“You know I can’t right now.”

“Well. I guess it’s okay. He has an eighty percent survival rate. I think that might be better than we all have on the Denver highways every day.”

The reminder that that 80 percent is really 20 percent delivers an unwelcome punch to the stomach, as does my mother hugging me and squeezing me a little too hard and long, a hint of the fragility she showed yesterday still in her energy.

“Bags loaded,” Derek announces, to then find himself in a similar embrace to the one I’ve just encountered, his eyes meeting mine, his expression as stark as the emotions I felt yesterday but refuse to allow myself today.

Which is easier said than done as my father orders my mother to the plane and steps in front of Derek and me. “I need the documentation you have on the stockholders you promised us,” I say to him.

“I have no such information.”

“You said—”

“What I say is that I expect normalcy to be restored when I return. Is that understood?”

“No,” I say. “Because your definition of normal, Pops, is what got us into this.”

“Just make sure your definition is more profitable than mine.” He turns and starts walking, and all of a sudden, I need to stop him.

“Pops!” I call out at the same moment Derek does the same, alike again. We’re both tormented. We’re both fighting a million conflicting feelings.

He halts, shoulders squaring, but he doesn’t turn. “Don’t fuck up my company while I’m gone.” He starts walking again, and as he climbs the steps, entering the plane, my fingers curl into my palms by my sides. Seth steps off the plane, giving me a two-finger wave, and then heads to his car, his business elsewhere, taking care of Ted and his family as I promised his wife yesterday, and ensuring Emily and the office staff stay safe today.

Refocused on the plane, Derek and I watch the staircase being removed, the steel door shutting. And when the engine roars and the wheels start to move, there is a finality in the air that I do not want to read into. “I don’t want to watch it take off,” Derek says, as if he senses it as well.

“Agreed,” I say, and in unison, we turn to the car, halting with the discovery of a sleek black Jaguar a short distance across the tarmac, with Adrian Martina leaning on the hood, his arms folded, his legs stretched out and crossed.

“Unless he’s here to kill me,” Derek says, “I think this calling card is for you.”

“Agreed again,” I say, fishing the keys from my pocket and handing them to him, but he closes his hand over mine.

“I didn’t pull the trigger,” he says. “But if that man ever holds a gun to your head, he will.” He releases my hand, and I don’t analyze how I feel about that warning. I am in my zone. I’m focused on my enemy, and that enemy right now is Adrian Martina.

I turn and start walking, my steps even, pace unrushed, calculated like my plans, to eradicate him from my company and our lives, until finally I’m standing in front of him. He doesn’t stand but continues to lean on the expensive car, his tan suit probably double the cost of mine, his dark hair slicked back as if he’s freshly showered.

“Two in-person visits in a week,” I say. “I’m starting to feel important to you, Adrian.”

“You’re pissed about Ted.”

“Pissed? I don’t get pissed, Adrian.”

“He’s alive.”

“And humiliated, beaten, and without a finger.”

“Someone close to me got carried away. He’s been reprimanded.”

“I’m quite clear on the way you use Ramon to do your dirty work and claim naiveté we both know you didn’t possess the day you were born.”

“He’s been reprimanded,” he repeats.

“You crossed the line, and not just with Ted. Ramon threatened to rape my mother. My mother. And you think this convinces me you want to do legitimate business with me?”

“I know nothing of this situation with your mother.”

“And that is the answer that’s supposed to convince me to forget this? My mother, Adrian. Let me be clear. I know your reach. I know the reasons people fear you. But I do not. An eye for an eye. You hurt one of mine—”

“And you visited my sister.”

“Ramon visited Emily. We aren’t even, and no one does successful business together when they are not even.”

“What do you want?”

“Ramon gone.”

“Done.”

I arch a brow. “That easily?”

“I didn’t sanction his actions. They do not please me. Nor does my desire to go legitimate please him. Now, can I trust that you’ll get my drug into that study?”

“When you get the drugs out of my facility.”

“You know my terms.” He pushes off the car. “The drugs stay until we have another distribution outlet. Otherwise my father will pay us a visit, and if you think yours is a bastard, mine’s the devil himself.” He walks to the driver’s side of the vehicle. “I’ll get rid of Ramon. Then I expect to move forward with the drug study.”

He climbs into the car and I watch him drive away, my lips curving at the sides. He played right into my hands. I’ve bought time and protection for our women. I’ve removed Ramon from our direct circle, allowing Seth to work his magic, with no path back to him or us.

I walk to the Bentley, the car my father gave me, that until this moment I’ve hated. It was bribery to get me to look the other way and forgive his many sins. Now it’s a reminder to me of everything the Brandon family was and will not be again. I’m here. I’m staying. And Adrian Martina is not. I slide into the driver’s seat, next to a brother I thought would never be shotgun to me, or me him, again.

“Well?” Derek asks.

“Ramon is gone. He’s sending him away.”

“If he agreed to that, it won’t be for long. He’ll be back.”

I start the engine, deciding that the sins of our father became the sins of my brother, regardless of Derek’s own role in his demise. My sins don’t need to become his too. I’ll keep Ramon’s fate to myself. “A little time to play a good game of poker is exactly what we need, which I’ll explain on the way to our next stop.”

“Which is where?”

“Mike Rogers’s office.”

*

Derek and I park in the lot in front of the all-glass mega sports complex where Mike’s pro-ball team operates. “So let me get this straight,” Derek says. “Your plan is an almost plan that’s stewing in your mind.”