Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 92734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Michael flinched. “We tried, boss. You weren’t answering.”
He fished his phone out of his pocket and, sure as fuck, there were three missed calls. Goddamn it. He thumbed through his contacts until he found his brother’s number and dialed. It rang through, the generic answering service setting James’s teeth on edge. He ground out, “Get your ass home right goddamn now, Ricky.”
This was what his life had come to—calling his brother like some sort of fucking parent whose teenager was out of control. His brother was twenty-seven years old. He should be past stunts like this. He was past stunts like this.
James spun on Michael. “Who’d he take with him?”
“Robert and Joe.”
Worse and worse. Those two were more likely to pump Ricky up than keep him from getting into trouble. Shit was going down, and James had been too busy feeling sorry for himself to cut it off before it started. He cursed long and hard.
He had two choices. He could go try to track down his idiot brother and hope he found him before something happened that no one could take back. But that would make him look weak as fuck, and his men would file it away. Even if they didn’t do a damn thing about it now, it would come back to bite him in the ass when he could least afford it.
Or he could wait here and confront Ricky from a position of power.
“Send him to me in the study when he’s back.”
“Will do, boss.”
He stalked into the house, wanting a shower and ten good hours of sleep. Neither was on the schedule at the moment. He went into the study and dropped into the chair behind the desk. The fireplace sat cold and empty, just like it had every day since his old man was taken away. He’d always hated that fire, hated coming in here, where it was so hot it felt like he was walking into hell itself and meeting with the devil.
Considering his old man, it was a pretty fucking accurate description.
Since he had no idea how long it would be, he got started on some paperwork that he’d been avoiding for far too long. Even illegal businesses needed records, and they had only just now gotten the tally for everything that was lost in the warehouse that the Sheridans destroyed four months ago.
If his old man had kept better books, they wouldn’t have had to trace all the shipments back to find out exactly what was missing. They wouldn’t have had to hold off three separate business deals until they could figure out if their partners were taking advantage of their lack of knowledge to screw with them. As a result, he’d had to spend far too much time behind this desk.
He fucking hated this desk.
Sometime later, the door opened and Michael came through, dragging Ricky behind him. James’s little brother was spitting mad, cursing like a sailor, and obviously drunk. Great. Michael didn’t say shit, just shoved Ricky into the room and disappeared through the door, shutting it firmly behind him.
Ricky glared at James. “What the fuck?”
“Want to try that again?” He’d learned a thing or two growing up in the tender care of Victor Halloran. Control was essential. The second he let someone know they’d gotten under his skin, he lost his position of power within the conversation. That went doubly so for his brother. Fear or love. Those were the only two things that forged loyalty, and his brother wasn’t showing a whole lot of either for him these days.
Ricky crossed his arms over his chest and raised his chin. “What. The. Fuck?”
So it was going to be like that. James pushed to his feet, slow and controlled, hating that his little brother flinched away from the movement. He deserved it after what he’d done, and the knowledge still stuck in his throat like a chicken bone. Knowing that he was doing what he thought best to keep his people from dying in a war that wouldn’t benefit anyone was the only thing that kept his remorse in check. “Where were you?”
“Didn’t know that I needed to check in with my keeper before I took a piss.”
He wanted to reach across the space between them and smack the shit out of the little idiot. Ricky was all posturing and no brains. He acted when he wanted to act, and didn’t stop to think of the waves his actions might cause. Tonight he might have just gone down to the pub with his boys. Or he could have just as easily decided to try for another drive-by in enemy territory. “Tell me. Now.”
For a second, he thought Ricky would push more, but something on his face must have scared his brother, because he finally muttered, “We took a drive through O’Malley territory, saw some shit, then went down to the pub for a few drinks.”