Hard Rules (Dirty Money #1)(53)

“You’re as on the sidelines as a quarterback and apparently you’re going to go into your grave lying to me.” I lean forward, pressing my hands on the desk, challenging him. “Do we amuse you, Father?”

He stands, mimicking my position, all signs of his sickness fading into the hard man that built an empire on secrets and lies. “I assure you, nothing about handing over the reins to Brandon Enterprises amuses me. If you can’t second-guess your brother, you can’t handle this company.”

“I’m not competing with my brother and we both know it. I’m competing with you. It doesn’t have to be this way. You have the power to change everything. Help me get us free of all this dirty money.”

“Help you? Who’ll help you when I’m gone? If you can’t take what you want, then someone else will take it when I’m gone.”

Our eyes connect and hold, a silent war between us, and while I pride myself on control, the absolute ability to contain what I feel, I am tested by this man that I both love and hate. He is destroying us, as cancer is destroying him. “Do the right thing before you die,” I bite out. I turn and start walking, making a fast path to the door, my hand coming down on the knob.

“Shane.” I pause, but do not turn as he adds, “Everything is not black and white, son. If you want to defeat those walking in the gray, you have to go there with them.”

He’s so beyond the gray, it’s laughable, and with this budding cartel connection, I’m certain he’s involved with, it’s more like black sludge. He will never repent his sins, and I’m done trying to convince him to change, let alone, convince myself he’s really on the sidelines. I’m not just at war with my brother. I’m at war with my father.

I turn the knob and exit the office, immediately aware of Emily at her desk. “Is he okay?” she asks.

“He’s himself,” I say, continuing on to the lobby, away from my father and away from Emily. I can’t see her right now. Not with my family gutting me, and her pushing me away, no matter how smart she was for doing it. Because one touch from that woman, and I’ll be selfish enough to f*ck her until she forgets why she left that coffee shop without me. I know whatever she’s running from can’t be as lethal as the Brandons and the Martinas forming a partnership.

Passing through the lobby, I exit the offices and walk directly to the elevator bank, punching the call button. “Shane.”

Emily’s voice carries from the office doorway, radiating through me like silk and sandpaper and I do not look at her. The elevator doors open and I grind out, “Not now, Ms. Stevens,” stepping into the elevator and leaving her behind. Inside, I face forward—and f*ck me—she’s standing in front of me.

“Shane.”

My name is a plea on her lips and I have just enough time to get lost in her big, gorgeous blue eyes and her wounded expression before the doors shut between us. And somehow, some way, I remain aware of the cameras and don’t react. I stand there like stone, waiting for the car to reach the garage, my mood throwing rocks around inside me. From one nerve to the next, I am bruised and beaten when the elevator finally jolts to a stop.

I step forward, a steel barrier preventing the escape I’m once again impatient to make. I’m on edge, in need of an outlet that allows me control. I need to run ten miles or f*ck this hellish rage of emotions out of my system, but the only one that sounds right to do that with is Emily. Just Emily, who has come into my life and turned it a little more upside down. Finally the doors part, and I step outside to find Derek once again making an odd late-night return to the building. And once again, we meet in the middle of the garage.

“Ah, baby brother,” he begins, reaching up to loosen his tie. “All these long hours and all for naught.”

“Not now, Derek,” I snap.

He narrows his gaze on me, his attention sharpening, and he seems to sense the foreboding in the air. “What is it?”

“The cancer has moved to his lungs. He’s coughing up blood.”

He inhales slowly, seeming resigned in his reaction. “Translate that to an outcome.”

“He won’t say much and he hasn’t told Mom at all. Chemo starts Monday. That’s all I was able to pry out of him.”

“How do you know he’s coughing up blood?”

“I saw it,” I say, not about to bring Emily into this. “Which is why he had to tell me.”

“Holy f*ck,” he curses, running a hand through his hair, and gives me his back, his face tilted toward the ceiling, struggling with the news that our father might pretend he doesn’t have cancer, but he indeed does.

Seconds tick by and he faces me, laughing without humor, and scrubbing his jaw. “How can I hate that man so much and be gutted by the idea of him dying?”

“How can you hate him and want to be him, Derek?” I demand, the question setting me off. “Look at yourself. Look at what—”

He lets out a low growl and shoves me against the wall, concrete grinding against my back, his hands clutching my jacket. “You f*cking bastard,” he hisses. “Shut up. Shut the f*ck up. I am not him.”

“Right,” I say dryly, my hands balled by my sides, his anger muting mine, driving me into courtroom mode. “And the sun doesn’t come up every morning.”