Jack crooks a finger in his direction. “Speak.”
Carlisle lifts his eyes. “There’s been an attack, sir. In one of the warehouses. We’re working on getting it contained.”
I slam down my glass. “What the fuck do you mean there’s been an attack? How did this happen?”
And why did it have to happen with my father here?
Are they trying to send a message, to prove that even Jack Payne doesn’t scare them anymore?
I glance in his direction, and I can already see his wheels turning. Whatever leeway he’s giving me is contingent upon my success, and Carlisle bursting in here like a madman talking about an attack on one of our warehouses isn’t helping.
Fucking Carlisle.
“You came highly recommended, Carlisle. Your father and brothers know how to keep their own,” Jack adds. “I can see my son hasn’t molded you the way he should have.”
Without warning, my father whips out a gun and presses it to the side of Carlisle’s temple.
His eyes dart between us. “All due respect, I didn’t have any orders to be on the lookout for warehouse attacks—”
“All I hear are excuses,” Jack snaps. I hear the click as he removes the safety, causing a muscle to tick in Carlisle’s jaw. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t put a bullet through your head.”
I give Carlisle a meaningful look. “You heard my father. Talk.”
Carlisle is a brute, but I chose him for a reason.
He is far less skilled and tactful than his brothers, but he was much more eager to prove himself.
I know he feels indebted to me for giving him a chance.
When push comes to shove, his loyalty won’t be called into question.
Even now, he doesn’t falter as he turns to Jack Payne, who moves the gun so that it’s pointed at the center of his head. Carlisle faces the barrel unflinchingly, and I know it has less to do with fear and more to do with control.
The kind he’s spent years honing.
The kind that could get a man like the great Jack Payne killed.
My right-hand man looks ready to rip into my father with his bare hands, but he’s not stupid enough to take that risk when he knows I’ll have to retaliate.
“I’ll bring you their heads on a platter,” Carlisle offers after a long pause. “And I’ll send a clear message to their loved ones.”
Jack pulls the gun away and pretends to examine it. “Things have gone to shit since I’ve been gone. It’s a good thing I arranged to stay a while.”
“Carlisle will make it right,” I say without looking at him.
Jack unfastens a button on his jacket with one hand and uses the other to put his gun away. “Make yourself useful and bring the car around. Let’s see what kind of mess my son has created now.”
Carlisle nods tersely and exits the office.
On my way out, I spot Katia at the top of the stairs, her face smoothed into an impassive mask. She looks at Jack and then back at me. I jerk my head toward my bedroom, and she nods in return.
Outside, I duck into the car after my father and drum my fingers against my thighs. “I know where to hit them so it bleeds. I’ll make sure they pay for this.”
My father gives me a bored look when he looks up from his phone. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to make sure this doesn’t go unanswered.”
“It won’t.”
We both know we can’t start a war with our allies without cause.
