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On my right, Robert sneaks his phone out and starts playing a video game in his lap until I nudge him with my elbow and shake my head. He gives me a sheepish smile and shoves the phone in his back pocket.
My father waits until Jared has finished his monologue. “Castigliore being cooperative?”
“Naturally.” Jared’s thin lips stretch into a chilly smile. He raises his left hand and wags the finger decorated with a thick wedding band. “I keep this trinket on just so he doesn’t forget our connection.”
My father mulls that over with a rub of his chin. “Wouldn’t hurt to give him a grandson to cement his loyalty.”
Jared’s grin falters. I’m guessing that fatherhood isn’t part of his plan. In one of her drunker moments, Sophie spilled some TMI beans that her husband always fucks with a condom at the speed of operating a power drill and then bolts to the shower.
While Jared pouts, my turn finally arrives.
My father jerks his chin in my general direction. “I glanced at the club’s books. Not a bad return for such a small operation.”
This is my invitation to respond. “Thanks, Dad. Just like you always told me, some niches are recession proof. Men will always be degenerate enough to empty their pockets at the sight of naked women.”
He chuckles with no clue that I’m being sarcastic. Back when I first took over the Back Door I had lofty ideas about getting out of the skin business, even created a whole dorky power point presentation to make the argument that the club ought to be turned into a sports bar. After being laughed out of the room, I came to terms with reality.
Our empire was built by using people. We use their addictions, their desperation and their vices. While my father still refuses to dabble in the drug trade due to the risk factor, all else is fair game and no one here is interested in a moral lecture.
Talon loudly clears his throat to get all eyes on him. After processing the look on his face, I brace for the sound of something I won’t like. “We’ve got some merchandise coming into the country next week and need a distribution base.” Talon clicks his stupid ring on the table again and leers at me directly. “You’ve got a family building that could be useful.”
Instantly, I’m bristling. I don’t allow illegal shit into my territory. This conviction has nothing to do with protecting family assets. I’m protecting the people inside, the ones who would be a whole lot fucking worse off if they’re left to the nonexistent mercy of these clowns. I take care of my employees, paying generously and never allowing them to get mistreated. I’ve put six dancers through college and didn’t hesitate to dip into my own savings to keep the expenses off the books. If my people run into any trouble, they know they can come to me and I’ll handle the situation, whether it’s extra cash for their kid’s braces or crushing a few bones of an abusive ex so he gets the message not to come stalking anymore.
“Back Door is off limits,” I fire back. “The last time I checked, you had custody of a few buildings yourself. You can play at being king in one of your filthy pay-by-the-hour human trafficking hubs.”
Talon quits dicking around with his ring and narrows his eyes. “Why don’t you go pop a Midol and chill the fuck out?”
“Why don’t you invest in a poker tutor and quit your sociopathic tantrums? They have a body count now.”
His veneer of civility gone, Talon rockets to his feet, leaning across the table on his knuckles. “This isn’t your fucking call, bitch.”
I laugh at him even though I know there’s a vague possibility I’ll get shot in the head for playing with fire. “Says the perennial sore loser.”
He shows his teeth in a way that could never be mistaken for a smile. “You know what? Choking on those words just might be the last thing you do, little cousin.”
“STOP!” Aric Marchenko’s fist slams down on the table. He’s on his feet too, jaw locked, eyes scathing. His most ferocious glare, however, is aimed at Talon. “I won’t have that. Do you hear me? I will NOT FUCKING HAVE THAT.”
Silence falls and not a muscle moves. Only the faint pulse of the wall clock bleeds through the tension.
Talon, who has just enough sense to know when he can’t win, finally nods. “I hear you, uncle. Haven, I shouldn’t have lost my temper. My apologies.”
Half a dozen searing comebacks fight their way to my tongue. This will only make matters worse. Besides, I’m acutely aware that my little brother listens to every word. “Forget about it.”
My father sighs and runs a hand through his thinning hair. This is the first time he’s ever looked old and tired to me. “You work this out among yourselves. And no matter the outcome you remember that you’re family. You’ve got each other’s backs. This is not a suggestion and it’s not negotiable.”
“Understood.” Talon keeps his eyes on me. Not everyone would be able to see the smoldering fury behind his mild expression but I know better.
“Understood,” I echo, seething with my own fury.
My father sinks back into his chair. “Good. Keep the rules in mind. Any words spoken in here are for our ears alone. We are a fortress. We can’t be breached.”
Consequences are always implied, not spoken aloud. There’s never been a significant betrayal within the family. I’m not sure what the fallout might look like but I expect it would end with a trip to the floor of Lake Poppy to keep the stockbroker company.
Following this dire hint, my father’s tone relaxes and he opens up the conversation to questions. Desmond finds his voice and pipes up to ask a question about paying off the liquor license board. Estes says he’ll be back in town in two weeks to oversee the opening of his new club on the grounds of the Catacombs, an abandoned factory compound on the outskirts of city limits. He’s sunk some cash into renovations to give the grounds some artificial glitz but the place is still creepy as fuck. I can’t look in that direction without thinking about how Micah and Tess were nearly killed there last year.
In the hours after the attack that cost Micah his right hand, I visited them at the hospital, sent on a mission to discover who might have had the nerve to launch a brutal assault on our property without permission. It was there that I watched Conner sink to the floor in grief after spending the night on an unsuccessful search for Micah’s lost hand. And for a brief, confusing moment, my heart cratered. In that fleeting moment, I wanted to go to him.
“Anything else?” my father says, already pushing back from the table.
