Reluctantly, I glance over an excerpt that reminds me of a dating app profile.
Clearing my throat, I start to read aloud. “Shipped off from New York City at the age of eighteen to attend Aurelian University in North Malibu.Friendly personality.Loves dogs,the beach,and enjoys the bar scene mostly for live music.Psychology major.”
I grimace and slap the folder back onto my father’s desk. “Dad, I don’t need your help getting laid.” He’s never expressed interest in my sex life before, and I’d prefer he not start.
My father chuckles, startling a reciprocal laugh from me even though the energy in his office is neither light nor humorous.
It never is.
“Don’t be such a sourpuss, Brody. You can chase tail with the best of them.” His tone darkens a little. “You’re my son, after all.”
An unpleasant sensation squirms in my gut.
He gestures to the folder. “Anyway. You’re the one for this job, not Connor. Keep looking.”
I was wondering about my brother. My father’s meetings generally include us both. Or just Connor. Now I’m even more curious.
I grab the folder. There’s no sense fighting it.
I flip the page to find a dozen images of this twenty-two-year-old, red-haired, green-eyed psych student that likes gardenias and live music. All captured without her knowledge.
I can admit that she’s pretty. Interesting too. Like she’s a woman with something to say.
She also appears a little lost in the photos, or maybe sad, and seems to have no idea someone was watching.
For some reason I can’t explain, knowing that one of my dad’s guys snapped all these pictures rubs me the wrong way.
I snap the folder shut and return it to his desk. Then I cross my arms and wait for the punch line.
Seconds tick by while my father studies me. My uneasiness grows. The more time that passes, the less I’ll probably enjoy whatever’s spinning through his devious mind. I’ve learned that much over the years.
“It hasn’t been sitting well with me.” He reclines in his chair, lighting a cigar and inhaling a long puff. “You took out our meal ticket and let your sister’s side piece go free.”
Ah. So that’s what this is about. “You’d have preferred that the Russians left the country with Nolan Doyle and the Gallaghers’ financial secrets?”
“I get it, Brody. A rock and a hard place.”
“Damn straight. I made a call, and I’d do it again.”
But I knew then, and I know now, that my father is pissed. And I’m not his favorite son.
My actions won’t be easily forgiven.
“What’s really chafing my balls is that Finn thinks we’re even.” He slams a fist on his desk. A few loose paperswhooshto the floor.
I pick them up, stack them, and set them neatly in a corner.
I don’t want to fight with my father, so I pause for a beat to center myself before speaking. “Kellin saved Maeve’s life, Dad. We helped them, and one of Finn’s guy’s helped us. Sounds even to me.” I’m keeping my cool, but if my father says one shitty thing about Maeve, so help me, I’ll reach over that mammoth desk of his and rip out his larynx.
“Well, I guess we’ve got different ideas of fair, Brody.”
There’s no sense in arguing. He might be my father, but at the end of the day, I’m an expendable enforcer for the Port Kings, and he’s the head of the snake. My boss. And son or not, if he’s unhappy with my job performance, it’s not like he’ll give me two weeks’ notice and offer me a nice severance package.
I tap my finger on the folder. “What does this have to do with her?”
My father leaps to his feet, the cigar flailing in his fingers. “They stole my hotel!”
“And you made a lot of money in the process.” I’m treading lightly. “You never cared about that place, Dad.”
