Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 137176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
“What the hell?” Sully said softly.
I seconded the question but kept it to myself. Despite the lack of a security team waiting for us, we took our time clearing every conference room, cubicle, and office on the floor. The only room with the door closed and the blinds drawn was the one with my father’s name spelled out in shiny metal lettering next to the door. It was lit up from behind to give it more flair.
“Best of everything,” I muttered beneath my breath.
Sully had already made the decision that he’d go in first, followed by Boone. Once they cleared the room, then and only then were JJ and I supposed to enter. I’d held my tongue about the whole thing, but the second Sully reached out to turn the doorknob, I kicked open the door and, gun drawn, strode into the huge space. I heard both Sully and JJ curse behind me, but I didn’t care. My eyes were focused on the man sitting calmly at the desk, drink in hand.
“Ah, there he is,” my father said with a smile. He lifted the glass as if he were giving a toast. “The prodigal son returns.”
“Clear,” I heard Boone and Sully both call. I already knew from the blueprints that the office had a large bathroom in addition to an attached conference room.
JJ was behind me, but not directly. I wanted to step in front of him, but I knew he’d just move the opposite direction. It was like he’d said in the lobby. I needed to do what I did best, protecting him. He needed to do the same for me. Exposing him to any kind of threat went against every fiber of my being, but he was right. It was not just him or me anymore, it was us. And that applied to any and every part of our lives.
I focused on my father. Surprisingly, he looked older than all the recent pictures I’d seen of him in the paper and on the news. He was still a handsome man, but there was something missing. I just couldn’t put my finger on it.
“Fellas, fellas, is all this really necessary?” my father asked. He held out his hands, spilling some of his drink in the process. “Take a look around, get yourselves a drink… let’s catch up… son.”
“Give me one reason not to put a bullet in your brain right now,” I snarled.
My father rolled his eyes like I’d said the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “Why all the hostility, Cassius?” His eyes shifted to JJ. “Your boy barely looks the worse for wear.” The man had the audacity to squint before adding, “A shame there wasn’t a better plastic surgeon on staff when they wheeled you in… could have had you shiny and new—”
“Shut the fuck up!” I screamed. I already had my finger on the trigger when JJ stepped into the line of fire. He kept his gun pointed at my father and never took his eyes off him, but the close call left me rattled. I wanted to shake JJ for the danger he’d put himself into when I realized he wasn’t the one putting me, his brother, and Boone in danger.
I was doing that.
All by myself.
My fury was like a living thing beneath my skin and under any other circumstances, I would have needed to move around or take my aggression out on something or someone. God, how had I ever thought I’d be able to do this? I’d been so certain that I could maintain some level of professionalism, but I couldn’t. I was the fucker’s bitter son first, the disciplined Marine second.
“How did you know we were coming?” JJ asked.
My father put out his hands again. “A father just knows these things.”
“You fucking piece of shit—” I began. I still had the gun aimed at my father, but I was keeping my hand off the trigger in case JJ pulled the same trick.
“Awww, son, how about you start calling me Pops?” my father suggested. “Or Dad, maybe Daddy… no, that one won’t work ’cause this one”—he pointed at JJ—“probably calls you that.” My father acted lost in thought for so long that I almost thought he’d passed out. “I know, how about SaDa?”
“He’s hammered,” Sully muttered. “We’re not gonna get shit out of him until he sobers up.”
“Nope, yep, maybe,” my father responded. His eyes were on me as he spoke, and I couldn’t help but feel a strange sensation wash over me.
“SaDa? What the fuck does that even mean?” Sully asked. It was a rhetorical question but the second he said the strange word again, my father’s eyes shifted to the right just a little. He did it again a second later. Something about his eyes was off. He was acting drunk or high or a little bit of both, but his eyes…