Hard Rules (Dirty Money #1)(81)

Look at me. I did this to you. Remember me.



—Sonny LoSpecchio





CHAPTER NINETEEN


SHANE


I wake the next morning to the sweet scent of Emily clinging to my sheets and the bitter memory of why I had to send her away. Drugs. Cartels. Enough lies to create a sinkhole that will swallow us all alive. This drives home why I did the right thing to push her away, but I regret sending her away, but it had to be that way. Had I touched her, if I touch her now, beyond that painful, searing last kiss, I’ll forget how easily I could put her in harm’s way. Knowing this, however, doesn’t keep my mind off her as I shower. Nor does it stop me from pairing my navy suit with the same blue and gray striped Burberry tie she’d chosen for me yesterday. My way of telling her that she might be gone from my immediate life right now, she is not forgotten.

Heading downstairs, I make coffee, and cup in hand, I head to my home office, where I settle behind the desk, my phone next to me, my gaze falling to the wall Emily and I worked our butts off to turn into a bulletin board. Among the data pinned there are true jewels of information I can use to grow the pharmaceutical division, none of it relevant if I don’t shut down the threats to the company that the Martina family, and my own, represent to our security and safety.

Glancing down at my tie, my concern over Emily being too close to potential danger has me reaching for my cell phone, punching in her number. The call goes straight to voice mail. Grimacing, I decide against a message to confirm today is her last day working for my father. It could be taken as cold, rather than concerned, which is what I intended. Whatever the case, her leaving the company today is not an option.

My cell phone rings and Seth is on the line. I turn my attention to the game of Go Fish, while Seth and I spend the next several hours setting our trap for William and hopefully Derek in the process. Namely, locking down surveillance on anyone either of them might contact after I’ve rattled a few cages today. By the time everyone we need to have eyes on is in view, it’s nearly two o’clock, and I drive to a coffee shop practically in the parking lot of the pharmaceutical plant. Parking by the door, I dial William Nichols, our suspected traitor. “Mr. Brandon,” he greets me amiably. “What can I do for you today?”

“I’m negotiating an acquisition that will directly impact your work and I need immediate feedback. I’m next door at Mountaintop Coffee. I need you to come over.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

“I’m right in the middle of—”

“Now,” I repeat, adding a hard push to my voice.

“Yes sir.”

I end the call and send a group text to Seth and Nick: I’m here and he’s on his way. I exit the Bentley and head inside, claiming a booth that allows me to see the door and setting my phone on the table, only to have it buzz. Glancing at the caller ID, I answer and hear Freddy “Maverick” Woods, the head partner of the firm I left for all this joy I’m living, say, “Have you considered my offer from last night?”

“I don’t remember saying I would.”

“You’d be the youngest senior partner in our history.”

Senior partner in New York, away from the Martina cartel, and with Emily by my side. I want it, but I can’t have it. “We talked about this. My father’s dying. I have a company to run.”

“Let your brother run it.”

“To the ground,” I say. “No thank you.” I push steel into my voice. “My answer is still no.”

“Subject to change?”

“Balls to the wall,” I say, repeating what he and I had said often in my days as his employee. “I’m here to stay.”

“I’ll ask again in a month.” He ends the call and I set the phone down.

“Shane.”

At the sound of a far too familiar female voice, I look up to find Lana Smith, an attractive brunette with her hair tied at the nape, standing at my table. She’s also a brilliant scientist, Will’s second in command, and a woman who’d been a much regretted college f*ck buddy I prefer not to acknowledge.

“Do you have a moment?” she asks.

“If that,” I say. “I’m about to meet with your boss.”

“I’ll be fast,” she says, wasting no time settling into the seat across from me, and in typical Lana style, she leans in to expose the ample cleavage of her gray dress, which I ignore, as she adds, “I seem to have bad timing with you, though you buying the company I work for seems like a twist of fate.”

“Fate didn’t bring us together. Business did.”

“But what are the odds of you being the one behind the acquisition of a company I work for?”

“Big -money pharmaceuticals drawing the attention of a major conglomerate like Brandon Enterprises is more likely than not.”

“Right. Of course.” She gives me a keen look. “You haven’t forgiven me, have you?”

I don’t pretend ignorance I don’t appreciate in others. “It’s ancient history, Lana, and better left there considering I’m one of your employers.” My brow furrows as the past becomes a little too present to be ignored. “However, it is a bit ironic that you hid drugs in my car and almost cost me Harvard, considering you now work for a drug company.”