I clench my jaw. He’s not going to shoot me, I know, but I still fucking hate guns. And the fact that he would even point it at me shows how little he cares about his own son. “I need five minutes.”
He frowns and lowers the gun. “I sent two of my best men to visit you. You need more from me?”
I walk over to him, nice and easy. “I saw them.”
“Then what the fuck do you want?”
I know what he’s thinking. He’s remembering me and that man, that stranger, fucking each other. It’s repulsive to him because he’s an ignorant bigot. He’s always been a small man, and it pisses me off that I know he’s standing there, judging me when I’m the better man by far.
I walk up the steps, climbing the deck. “I’m not doing this job or any other jobs. I never want to hear from you again. And if Adrian or—”
His fist connects with my jaw so fast, I don’t have time to properly block. I stumble back in shock and almost fall down the stairs, but catch myself on the railing. “The fuck!”
“You think you can tell me no? I spent years shaping you for this business. I invested my life in you, Joey, and you’ll fucking help your family out when we need you. Understand?”
I lick the inside of my mouth, then spit out blood. My jaw throbs with dull pain, but I ignore it.
“You’re fucked up, old man.” I pull out my phone, then open the picture. For a second, I stand there, trying to process that I’m about to do what I’m really about to do.
On the screen, there’s an old photo of me and Adrian, taken when we were both drunk off our asses and fucking one night. We’re naked, rubbing our hard cocks together, and our faces are plain as day. In sober light, I felt embarrassed to have even taken a picture like that. But something told me to keep it, not because I still have feelings for Adrian, but because I knew it could be a weapon if I ever needed it to be.
I just didn’t think I would use it against myself.
“This is me and Adrian,” I say, then hand over the phone. “One of your best men, I think you said.”
Dad erupts in profanities the second he looks at it. He takes the phone and smashes it against the railing, then again and again. “Hugo! Hey, big guy!”
I step down the stairs, back onto the stone path. “Your fucking bodyguard,” I spit at him.
He shakes the broken phone at me, then throws it to the ground. “No one’s ever going to see that fucking photo again, you pervert.”
“I’ve got a backup,” I tell him, my voice icy. Hugo appears behind me, where the driveway meets the house. He’s much bigger than me, a mean guy with a crooked nose, and my hair stands up when I think about the things I know he’s done. “If you ever hurt me or even try to contact me again, I’ll send the photo to everyone. The docks, your bosses, all the contacts. Everyone.”
“You need him out of here, boss?” Hugo asks my dad.
My dad glares at me. I see him working through what I just said. That photo would humiliate him, ruin his reputation and the business with it. It would compromise his son and one of his top men, make his whole outfit a laughing stock.
If I just wanted to threaten his money, I could send an anonymous tip to the cops. This picture, though, it would humiliate him. It would damage his ignorant, pigheaded masculinity. His life’s work would turn to ash along with his reputation, just like that.
It pains me to use their own bigotry against them, and I know we could all end up dead, but it’s the only way I can see to truly escape this life.
He gives a sudden gesture to Hugo, and his bodyguard has me up against the wall. The sheer force of it knocks the wind out of me, and immediately after, Hugo lands a hard punch across my cheek, then wrenches my arm behind my back and throws me to the wall again.
“Fuck!” I groan. The volley of pain wrenches me, and I gasp for breath.
“You wouldn’t fucking dare humiliate yourself like that.” My dad walks down the steps to me. “You don’t have the balls.”
I crane hard to look him in the eye. “If I don’t type a password into a program online once a month, it will send automatically. Just try me.”
He snarls, but I can immediately tell I’ve got him. I’d heard about those timed password things through a TV show, and it had only taken a little time on Google to set it up.
“I don’t care if it ruins my reputation,” I tell him, “just so long as it ruins you, too.”
Dad spits, then curses under his breath while he nods to Hugo. His bodyguard relaxes his hold, then pushes me against the wall again as he steps back. I grunt and stand to my full height. I want to turn and punch the motherfucker across the jaw right back, but I don’t let myself.
I’ve beat Dad at his own game, and we both fucking know it.
“Tell Adrian,” I spit out. “Make sure he knows—if I ever hear from either of you again, I send the email.”
