Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
He steps back, crosses his arms, and gives me an expectant stare. I rub my face, sick of the theatrics, but I flip open the folder anyway.
It’s a bank statement. “Numbers aren’t my strong suit,” I mumble as I flip through the pages.
“Don’t be a fucking prick, you’re a tax lawyer. Third page, halfway down. There’s a very big transaction.”
I don’t need to turn to the third page to know exactly what he’s talking about. I knew this moment would come the second I moved money around. “It’s a legitimate expense.”
He throws up his hands. “Two million fucking dollars from the organization’s accounts is legitimate? For fucking what? We don’t move that much cash unless it’s absolutely important, and we definitely don’t do it without discussing things first.”
I lean back in my chair and rub my face. Dad never would’ve fucking consulted us when making decisions—this committee of equals thing only started when I took over. Seamus and the others still haven’t completely accepted that I’m the boss and I have the power to make unilateral decisions, even ones involving enormous sums of money.
“You’re going to have to trust me on this one.”
“Where did it go, Brody? Who did you pay?”
“Don’t press.”
He laughs and starts pacing. “The fuck is going on? Even Declan and Nolan are starting to notice. Molly said something to me this morning about how you’ve been distant lately. Is it the fucking wife? Did you take money because she’s running up credit card bills or something?”
“She’s rich, you dumbass.” I stare at the ceiling, annoyed that I’m having this conversation again. “Listen to me. This money is important. I paid a contractor to do a job. An extremely important job. One which very well might save my life. I can’t tell you more right now because there are too many moving pieces, but I need you to trust me.”
Seamus squints and rubs his chin. “You paid a contractor? As in a hitman?”
“Something like that. I need patience, bro.”
He’s quiet for a few seconds. I can tell my explanation took some of his steam away. But he finally shakes his head. “That’s not good enough. Two million is too much.”
“This two million might end up buying ten times that.” I hate this damn position I’m in. I want to tell him everything, to make him understand my deal with Santoro, and how I’m going to pull all the strings together and tie a nice lovely noose around the old Italian bastard’s neck, but I can’t risk saying anything. Not right now. Not when Seamus is still so emotional about this situation. I’m not sure how he’ll react if he understands just how narrow this knife’s edge path I’m following really is.
It’s a dangerous game balancing crime family factions against each other.
Seamus takes a deep breath. I can tell he’s struggling to maintain his patience, but my brother’s never been the kind of guy who’s good at squashing his emotions.
“I get it, you’re involved with the Biancos now, and that means shit’s ten times more dangerous than it was before. I tried to get you to see reason when you started in with this war shit earlier, but now it’s like I don’t even know what the hell you’re doing. We’re supposed to be a family, Brody.”
“I swear, when the time’s right, I’ll tell you everything. I just need you to trust me for a little bit longer.”
He shakes his head and looks disgusted. “At least with Dad, I could understand why he didn’t tell us anything, but I thought you were going to be different. I thought we were going to be better. That’s why we believe in you.”
My gut clenches. That breaks my fucking heart, the way he says it, because on the one hand, I want to be like Dad. I want the power, the stoicism, the intensity, the blind loyalty. But I know what Seamus means, and I have no interest in boxing him out of my decision-making process. Except for this one time.
“We are going to be better, and that’s why I’m doing what I’m doing.”
Seamus only shakes his head and turns his back on me. I almost wish he’d stay and argue—at least then he’s still engaging with me and hasn’t completely given up. But the way his shoulders slump tells me all I need to know.
I’m left alone in my office for a while. I should try to get some work done, but I can’t seem to concentrate, and I don’t want to work up the energy to commute into the main office downtown.
There’s a knock at the door and I hope it’s Seamus back with a vengeance, but instead it’s Mom with a cup of tea. “I thought you might need this.”
“Thanks.”
She places it down in front of me and I take a big sip. I can tell there’s something on her mind, and I’m worried when she sits down in the chair across from my desk.