“Okay. Felicitations.” Paige raises her glass of water, joy coloring her expression. “How can we help?”
“What?” Dash drags his hands from his face, glaring at the three of us, but mainly at me. “You can’t be serious. This is ridiculous.”
“Clowns are ridiculous. This plan is full of potential.” Paige pats Dash’s knee, but the gesture is lost on him as he continues to scowl at me.
“We need to talk. Outside.” My brother shoves up from the couch and storms out the back door.
“Luna—”
I wave off Paige’s concern and press on Charlie’s shoulder as I get up, both for balance and to keep him in his seat.
“I’ll deal with him. We’ll be back.”
As I move to step around Charlie, his knees sticking out as a barrier, there’s a pressure on my hand. I glance down to see he’s grabbed it. He gives a light, comforting squeeze before letting go.
“Good luck.”
“Thanks.” And funnily enough, that small display of support eases tension in my spine.
At least until I get outside and face an enraged little brother. Well, younger brother, to be more accurate, since Dash is a good foot taller than me.
Damn him and his genes.
“This is a joke,” he growls. “Please tell me this is a joke.”
“It’s not. Deal with it.”
“Deal with it?” Dash paces along the edge of the back porch as the two dogs in the backyard watch him.
They must have worn each other out because both have sprawled out in the grass, panting heavily, without showing any indication of getting up to say hello.
That’s probably better.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this! I thought you were smarter than this.” My brother says this like I’m the irresponsible one in the family.
My calm demeanor chips away at his accusatory tone.
“This wasn’t some drunk Vegas wedding. Charlie and I talked it out, and he agreed to help. I don’t know why your boxers are in such a twist.”
Dash throws his hands up. “Maybe because my sister got married to a stranger in a futile attempt to save our delinquent brother who doesn’t want to be saved!”
“Get your head out of your ass,” I hiss back. “Charlie isn’t some stranger. He’s your wife’s best friend. And you’re naive if you think Leo doesn’t want out as bad as you did. But Uncle Mike has him in a choke hold. He’s in deeper than you ever were.”
I stare Dash down, but he just laughs without humor.
“That’s a fantasy.”
“It’s not. I talked to him. Leo asked Mike about leaving, and the asshole demanded two hundred fifty thousand. The same number the old man told me when I went to argue Leo’s case. Is that how much you had to pay, Dash? Six fucking figures?”
I can tell my brother is clenching his teeth from the way his jaw muscle pops out.
“No,” he eventually admits. Then he points a finger at me. “That doesn’t mean you should do all this. Give up the money that Wai Po left you.”
“Listen to yourself! All this”—I wave back toward his house, where Charlie sits—“is the only way I get that money. Otherwise, it goes to our shitty father. Bill Lamont getting that money would be the opposite of karma, and you know it.”
“Great. Dad won’t get the cash, but the criminal organization he works for will. Have you thought about that? How you’re handing them all that fucking money to fund all their illegal shit?”
“So what?” The question burst from my lungs in a shout as I battle against the defensive anger in my chest. Hell, I’m tired of this argument that I’ve already had a hundred times with myself.
