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“I didn’t go after Harper.”
“How much do you owe them?”
He spits in my face. I don’t so much as flinch. “Let’s be clear, Isaac. I don’t have to bust your balls. The mob will cut them off. And if you were counting on Dad dying and leaving you the money, you have a problem. He’s going to make it and if you kill him now, you’ll get attention you don’t want and neither does the mob. They might just kill you to cut off the bleeding.” I release him. “You need me. Get smart and ask for help before you take everyone down with you.” I turn to the door and open it, leaving him in the stairwell. And yes, I wipe his disgusting spit away.
A few minutes and queries later, I’m standing in a suite with an empty bed and a sitting area. I enter the room expecting something, though I don’t know what. I walk into the bathroom and attached to the mirror is an envelope that reads “Eric Mitchell” and it’s not coded. This is not the same kind of message as before. I grab the envelope and right when I would open it, a tingling sensation slides up and down my spine. I slide the envelope into my pocket and exit the bathroom, my eyes searching the room. It’s empty, but someone was here.
I walk to the door and look left and right down the hallway, but I find no one. It’s a quiet floor and a quiet moment. I step backinto the room and pull out the piece of paper from the envelope that reads:
Eric–
You can’t just let Isaac do what he has to do, can you? You’re pushing the wrong people. If you keep pushing, I’m going to make you king and then you’ll owe me. You can pay me my fucking money or I can take Harper as payment. Your move, savant. And that move is to look the other direction, and then back away.
It’s in that moment that Harper and Savage walk in.“Find my father, Savage. Stay with him and keep Harper with you and safe. I’m going after Isaac.”
Harper’s eyes go wide. “What’s happening?”
“Baby, I need you to trust me and stay with Savage. Promise.”
“Yes, but—”
I kiss her. “Later. Everything later.”
I hand Savage the letter and take off out of the door. A letter that wasn’t from Gigi. It was from the mob and the only way I become king of the Kingston Empire is if everyone but me is dead.
Chapter one hundred four
Eric
The past…
Christmas hell.
That’s what this is. I sit across from Isaac at a chess board while my father stands above us, watching us play. I plan to do what I always do. Let Isaac fucking win. He needs the ego stroking. I do not. I just want the fucking game over with. He makes a move. I make a move. He makes a stupid move and that forces me to act like an idiot and ignore it. He makes another move. Anotherstupidmove and actually thinks it’s smart.
“Your move, savant.”
I can almost feel our father pushing me to push back, to take his pride, to cripple him. I almost feel sorry for Isaac for the way the bastard uses me to taunt him. In that moment, I hate my father more than Isaac. I make a stupid move and endure Isaac’s gloating as he takes my king.
As if he’s the king. As if he’s telling me I will never be king.
Three months later…
A new kind of hell.
That’s what being pitted against my brother in a mock trial is for me. I can’t win because I can’t lose and that will lead tocomplications outside this auditorium. I sit behind the defense table, my mock client accused of a laundry list of white-collar crimes. I listen as Isaac leaves me a hole to bury his case. And Iamgoing to bury his case. This isn’t about family. This is about my career.
He walks back to his table but slides by mine first, smirking as he loudly jabs me with his favorite taunt of, “Your move, savant.”
He walks away and sits down. I stand up and proceed to steal his false sense of security. I destroy his case, and him, in all of three minutes.
Present day…
I’m out of the hospital room door, headed to find Isaac and manage to get all the way to the exit before I stop dead. Not only is my father being rolled in my direction, I have a sudden realization that I shouldn’t have missed in the first place. The wording of that note comes back to me “Your move, savant.” That fucker. Harper’s right. I’m operating on emotion because I all but allowed myself to be played. Isaac wrote that note.
I rush back the opposite direction and realize my father is being rolled past me, surrounded by a medical crew. And fuck, I might not love the man, but seeing him with tubes everywhere and pale as death punches me in the chest in a mighty way.
I follow him toward his room and Harper and Savage are ordered into the hallway. Harper spies me almost instantly and rushes toward me.
