The way he simply holds his hand out to Brent, as if expecting immediate and unquestionable obedience, is only one of the reasons I respect Harrison. And fear him.
Only someone without a brain wouldn’t fear him at least a little.
Brent seems to have a brain, because he places the gun in Harrison’s hand.
My jaw drops as he expertly expels the cartridge, then thumbs the bullets one by one so they fall to the floor.
“Tucker, you think you can keep him from running out of here?” Harrison asks the big Heir to the Chair of Sports, but his eyes don’t leave Brent.
“Sure,” Tucker murmurs and stands right behind Brent.
Then Harrison turns and nods at Eian fucking Dempsey.
“Evening, Mr. Dempsey.”
“Crawford,” Eian responds, and you could cut the tension with a damn knife as they stare at each other.
Finally, Harrison takes one step closer to the desk then bends down and picks up... oh, yeah, that’s where the other gun went.
Holding it by the barrel, he offers it to Eian, who, after staring at it for five eternal seconds, grips it then holsters it back under his suit.
“You may leave,” Harrison says, and the underlying threat clearly doesn’t go over Eian’s head. He looks fucking furious all of a sudden, but nods regardless.
He reaches behind him, and that’s the first time I register the other man. Smaller, probably late thirties... and—holy shit, that’s Colby Major.
He used to be the top news anchor for us, for ENN, our news network. I want to turn around and see Dad’s face but I can barely breathe. There’s no way I canmove.
Dempsey hoists a black duffel bag onto his shoulder, then they walk out from behind the desk and our big-ass group shuffles to let them pass. When they’re about to leave, though, Harrison stops them again.
“Mr. Major?”
They freeze and I can see the terror and confusion on Colby’s face when he spins around slowly.
“Y-yes?”
“The folder,” Harrison instructs simply.
Colby’s mouth drops open, and I can tell he wants to refuse—god, I hope he doesn’t refuse—but Dempsey seems to be thinking more clearly. He nudges Colby and so he hands the folder over.
“Much appreciated,” Harrison says.
The second the door closes behind New York’s most feared mobster, Harrison steps up to the mayor and fishes the chain from under his shirt’s collar, then yanks it hard enough for it to snap.
“This doesn’t belong to you,” Harrison murmurs.
It’s one of the few times I’ve seen the great Harrison Crawford look like he enjoys the power he holds.
“Eli, take a look at this and that laptop, will you?” He holds out the folder to me, and I quickly grab it then walk over to the desk and open the laptop. There’s a...
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I can’t help but say.
“What is it?” Iris asks, walking over to me.
“This.” I hold out the laminated piece of paper with usernames and passwords. “It’s going to make my life a hell of a lot easier,” I mumble. “Oh, shit,” I hiss when I unlock the laptop and see the site that’s already open.
“What is it?” Harrison asks, but Brent pipes up before I can tell him.
“It’s not what it looks like. It’s not me. I’m looking into it for the safety of the city, for?—”
