“That’s about right, kid,” Val said. “Motherfucker not grown yet.”
“How old Grant?” Digger asked, swiveling his neck from one way to the other. Without a motorized wheelchair, he still had very limited mobility.
“Grant’s turning twenty-three later this year.” The pride in Knox’s voice was hard to miss. He drained his glass and set it on the table next to him, then looked at his boy. “I suppose I still can’t convince you to join the board of Harrington Enterprises.”
“No, Dad,” Grant said with a shake of his head.
“We dying to know what you planning,” Digger pressed.
Grant pursed his lips.
“You’re going to be a lawyer like Diesel, right, Grant?” Axel asked with excitement.
Only because of Diesel. If Diesel didn’t enjoy being a lawyer, chances were Axel would hate it, too.
Rebel cocked her head to the side. “We hate the suspense, Grant.”
Harley and Mattie nodded.
“Tell us,” Mattie said. “Although I’m inclined to agree with Axel. You’ll be an attorney.”
Christopher envied the contentment in Knox’s eyes. He was a man who could look at his son and know the road his boy planned to travel. True, most of Christopher’s sons were underage, but from a young age Grant knewwhat he wanted to do and hadn’t once veered from that direction.
“Now, I’m really curious,” Mattie said.
“Yeah, your silence might mean you’ve changed your mind,” Rebel guessed.
“Fuck, now, I’m fucking curious,” Bash put in.
Christopher was, too. It was obvious Grant was thinking something completely different. The more motherfuckers focused on him, the antsier he became.
“Tell us, son,” Knox encouraged.
Rocking on his heels, Grant glanced at Mort, which wipedthatmotherfucker’s smile away.
Christopher lifted his brows.
“Uh, little dude, this not the time—”
Grant cleared his throat and interrupted Mort. “It’s something else, Mort. When CJ becomes Prez, I plan to use my trust fund to build and run a meth lab. I’m going to be a one man show and do everything from cooking to distribution.”
At first, Knox joined in the laughter. Mattie and Rebel giggled. Harley smiled, too. Grantwasbeing a funny motherfucker. Unable to help himself, Christopher join the laughter floating around him. Except Grant didn’t even crack a smile. He stared at Knox. As it dawned on everybody, the chuckles stopped.
Knox stumbled toward Grant, struck fucking stupid, unable to say a word. He studied his kid. The motherfucker nodded.
Fuckingnodded, like that was an acceptable response with the bombshell he’d just dropped.
“A meth lab…?” Knox cleared his throat and forced a smile. “I like…you’re hilarious, son. You’ve told your joke. Now, I want the truth.”
“Fuck,” CJ groaned.
That meant bad fucking news. That also meant CJ knew what Grant planned.
“Tell me the truth, Grant,” Knox ordered.
“That is the truth, Dad. I plan to cook meth.”
A noise escaped Knox and he staggered back, losing all his color. Christopher thought the motherfucker would faint.
