Page 106 of Marcus

A look passed between his brother and father.

“Business first, oui?” Gian shrugged, trying to keep a calm disposition, but Marcus could see right through it. “Business always comes first, Marcus, and then we’ll deal with the rest.”

Fine.

If that was the game he had to play …

“What did the enforcer have to say?” he asked.

“It wasn’t the enforcer who gave the biker gang any information about your whereabouts this weekend,” Bene spoke up, clearing his throat when Marcus’s sharp gaze turned on him. “We brought him in, questioned him, and nothing came from it. Believing he was lying, the man who did the questioning chose to kill him. In vain, because again, wasn’t him.”

Marcus’s jaw was beginning to ache from how hard he clenched his teeth. “I’m not following.”

“The social media accounts for the maple farm,” Gian put in, crossing his arms over his chest as he spoke, “had announced it would be closed for the day to the public due to a special guest, as they put it. The guest wasn’t specifically named, but it makes sense they would post about their change in hours. We have it on good faith that the bikers were following the accounts, and thought the farm would be an easy hit.”

Really?

Fucking really, though?

“And a very publicized one,” Bene added, “considering how popular that particular farm is, and the number of tourists that come in and out of it on a yearly basis. The bastards probably thought to hit you where it would really hurt. Force some of this into the public spotlight, and—”

“Maybe I would have a change of heart about business with them,” Marcus interjected gruffly.

The harsh flood of irritation through his bloodstream was enough to have Marcus’s vision swimming all over again. He pushed aside the dizziness to throw on the pressed dress shirt before he took his time doing up the buttons. All the while, he cursed in every fucking language he knew inside his head.

A boss didn’t overreact.

Not when others watched.

Not even if those others were family.

“It was circumstance,” his father said finally, breaking the silence between the three, “and nothing more. They had no idea you were going to be there, and I have no doubt they’re trying to rally now that they know there has definitely been a line crossed.”

“Oh, you think?”

Marcus didn’t bother to tamper his attitude, but if his father felt any sort of way about it, the man didn’t say. He finished getting dressed, slipping on socks, then shoes, and finally the blazer resting over the foot of the hospital bed.

“Where is my goddamn phone?”

“Cops took it,” Bene muttered, “evidence, they said.”

“Of course, they did.”

“Yeah, but the fire ruined it anyway because they couldn’t even turn the fucker on, so.”

“And if a program can successfully pull info off it?” Marcus asked sharply.

“Man, since when do you do that kind of business on your personal phone?”

“Marcus, relax,” Gian murmured.

How?

How should he do that?

“I’m done with the bikers,” he said, settling himself on that fact. “I’m not playing their games anymore, and I have let this go on for too long. My next step for them will be to permanently remove them from the situation.”

“If that’s—”