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To be fair, we could easily survive without changing our current lifestyle if we gave up all our shadier dealings. But it was who we were. How Dad made his first million. And he loved it, even if he’d never admit it to Mom. The danger, the unknown, and of course the fact that there were no rules besides the ones he made.
And none of us had ever known any different.
I opened the folder in front of me, finding a detailed account of what we were currently distributing and how much of our total it made up each year. Putting the papers down, I shook my head. “We can never fully pull out. Whoever took over would want to erase us from existence on the slim chance we planned on coming back.”
Dad sighed, suddenly looking much older than his sixty-two years. “When Cian went after Freya, I knew I had to make some changes. I would never forgive myself if my business eventually took her from me. I’d never give it all up, but we need to pull out of the drug trade. It’s gotten too hot, too many new players joining the game. We’ll keep the guns and exotic imports. Everything else needs to go.”
Our drug business had always left a bad taste in my mouth. I’d welcome the chance to get rid of it. “What do you need us to do?
“It’ll take time to pull back. We need to do it bit by bit, without pissing anyone off. This new drug might be dirty, but it also might mean we can silently step back. It’ll take the attention off us.”
Gabriel stood up. “If we don’t shut them down, it’ll make us appear weak. We can’t just let them encroach on our territory and do nothing about it.”
He’d always been a hothead. And like the rest of us, he knew nothing else but the business. He was as much taken by surprise as I was, but I needed him to work with me on this.
The risk to any member of our family had always been there, but it seemed Dad had finally realized how much was at stake.
Dad heaved himself out of the chair, his gait unsteady, telling me he’d had more to drink than usual. He stepped in front of my brother, halting his agitated stomps around the office. “Gabriel, we need to show a united front on this. Pulling back doesn’t mean we have to show weakness. It’s a business decision, and we’ll sell it as such.”
Gabriel didn’t sit back down, the sour expression remaining on his face.
“Now who wants to show them why our reputation is well-earned?” Dad continued.
Nobody was surprised when Jude lifted his hand with a grin. And we all knew that once he was done, there’d be no doubt about who the reigning kings were.
3
Quinn
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” I hissed into the phone, hiding in the bathroom of a cozy restaurant that had opened around the corner from my own.
I was on a date and already had regrets on top of regrets. We hadn’t even made it past the first course yet.
“You’ve been out of the game for too long. Just give him a chance.”
Freya’s encouragement wasn’t making me feel better. I didn’t want to give my date a chance. It didn’t matter that he was a firefighter who saved lives. Or that he had a dimple. Or thick, glossy brown hair. Or that he was a great conversationalist.
Because he wasn’t Liam.
“Fine. I’ll finish dinner since we’re already here. Besides, leaving halfway through would be rude. But then I’m going straight home.”
First came a deep sigh, then a resigned one, then a noise of assent. “Fine. But if you don’t tell me soon what the hell’s going on with you, I’m flying back out there to kick your ass. You used to be the dating queen. Now you barely leave your house.”
The truth of her words stung, but I had nothing to say in return. I didn’t even recognize the person I’d turned into. I finally had the restaurant I’d dreamed of since I made my first three-course meal, yet I was unhappier than ever.
“I know. Let me just get through tonight, and then we’ll talk.”
“Finally. Now leave the bathroom so he doesn’t think you have digestive issues. And call me tomorrow.”
I pushed myself off the wall I’d been leaning against and nodded, even though Freya couldn’t see me. “I will. Promise.”
We hung up, and I finally left the perceived safety of the bathroom. John the Firefighter was where I’d left him in a quiet corner of the restaurant, sipping his beer. His eyes lit up when he saw me walking toward him, and I cringed. His smile died, and he sat up straighter.
Clearly, my poker face needed work.
Sitting down, my hands found the napkin I’d laid on the table earlier, scrunching it up. But that was the only nervous tic I allowed myself before lifting my gaze and looking at my date. “Sorry about that. Makeup emergency.”
It was his turn to cringe, and I knew that once again my poker face had failed me. “No need to apologize.” He looked up when the waiter appeared with our meals. “You made it back right on time.”
