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Greg shook his head. “If you can’t follow my directive, you might want to consider updating your resume as well.”
“Really? Again, with the threats?” Harlow stood up. “I did your bidding when I was in Europe. I let things slide with the interviews and played the role you wanted, but now this is getting serious. I don’t think it’s smart to play with this kind of fire.”
“Then get the fuck out of my office!” Greg bellowed. “And pack up your desk.”
“With pleasure,” Harlow snapped, and fled the room.
I stood up, with Brodie, Faise, and Ronin following.
“I didn’t mean you guys!” Greg shouted.
“We’re leaving anyway,” Ronin announced. “We’ve heard enough.”
“Don’t you dare walk away from me! We’re not done here,” Greg warned.
“Oh yes, we fucking are!” I roared.
I turned and headed for the door, my band brothers right behind me.
Once we stepped out into the hallway, our security team gathered around us.
“What’s with all the shouting?” Quinn asked. “What’s going on?”
“Greg fired Dawson,” I explained.
“Fucking hell,” Quinn muttered. “When?”
“Just before we got in. He’s done as of the end of day.”
My phone buzzed.
Dawson: It’s going to be okay. I was planning to resign anyway. This is NOT your fault. Just come home to me.
“Is Dawson okay?”
I showed them his text.
“Greg also wants me to go to the press about Frankie Salich.”
“To do what? Paint the bullseye on your back?” Valen grumbled. “That’s fucking stupid.”
“I’m not doing it.” I shook my head and looked at Brodie. “I won’t.”
“We’re behind you,” Brodie replied.
“All of us.” Faise nodded. “Greg can go fuck himself.”
“Thanks. I’m going to see Zoe, and then I just want to go home. My head hurts.”
The guys left first.
I headed down to the twenty-fifth floor with my detail so I could talk to Zoe in person. When we arrived at her office, though, she was on a conference call.
After waiting for ten minutes, I decided fuck it. I sent her a text to call me later. All I wanted now was to go home.
Quinn and Valen were stoic on the way out, and I felt the weight of their silence. Dawson was their friend and coworker. They had every right to blame me for what happened to him.
“Dawson knew what he was doing,” Quinn finally mumbled. “He was talking about quitting anyway. Jaxon needs him at home.”
