Page 46 of Damon

“All-out war. After Connor collected his remaining belongings from the street, including chasing a man who lifted a bottle of whiskey as he walked by, he stormed into Russell’s office wielding a golf club.”

“Fuck, and Connor is the chill brother,” I say, the scenario playing out in my head.

“Do you remember the glass unit in Russell’s office with all those strange statues he collects?”

“The erotic ones?” He nods. “Connor never…”

“Every last one of them is smashed to pieces, and the shelves as well. Thank fuck there weren’t any clients in the office. It’s the closest I’ve ever seen Russell to crying. He dropped to his knees amongst the shards of glass.”

“The man has issues…”

“You can say that again,” my friend agrees as the door opens once more when the elevator sounds. Our remaining three friends walk in as if their entrance was perfectly synchronized.

Russell and Connor are arguing venomously, both still dressed in their suits. They glare at each other while throwing expletives around like confetti. “It was my favorite fucking suit,” Connor snarls. “That’s why I kept it at the office.” Hunter walks behind, more casual in jeans and a t-shirt, chuckling to himself.

“Well, you only got fucked because you wore my lucky jeans on your date,” Russell snaps back.

“No brother, I got fucked because I bent her over and made that pretty pussy sing for me.”

Harrison rolls his eyes in my direction. “It’s your turn to split them up,” he says. “I’ve been refereeing all bloody day.”

“I’ll do it,” Hunter shouts as I go to stand. “Fuck knows what’s going on, but any chance to smack those two around and I’m there.” I watch as he pulls a knife from his belt and throws it across the room. It passes in front of the arguing brothers’ faces and impales in the wall beside them. The shouting stops.

“Ah, silence,” Hunter says calmly. “Good evening, gentlemen, so what do we have on the agenda tonight?”

Russell lifts his hand to his nose; as he pulls it away, he blinks in shock at the red liquid on his fingers. “You cut my bloody nose off, Devane,” he shrieks.

“Don’t be such a drama queen,” Hunter replies, “it’s just a nick on the skin, always looks much worse than it is. Damn, I hate it when my aim is off. At least I never actually cut your nose off. Silver linings, Chase. There’s always a silver lining.”

Connor says nothing, merely turns around and comes to take a seat at the table. I pick up a beer and pass it to him. He nods in thanks, then snaps the cap and downs it.

“Rough day?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Fucking torture,” he says.

Hunter claps his hands together, drawing all attention to him. “Right boys, now all the internal debates are over, shall we get on with business?”

“I have some information,” I say calmly, not wanting any more distractions from what I need to tell them. All eyes turn to me, and I begin to work through every new piece of information I have. My friends sit silently and listen, disbelief every so often flitting across their features, but when I look at Harrison, I see a man who has turned pure white.

“So let me get this right,” Harrison says, his eyes darting around the room. He’s completely shaken by the obscene number of links within the situation we find ourselves in. “Moreno, the man I freed from prison, is the same bastard who killed Emma’s parents. Who were killed because they owed money?”

“Yes,” I confirm.

“And he also attacked her in her apartment after speaking to you on the street?”

“Yes.”

“Because she testified against him in court when she was a kid.”

“Yes.”

“Is that the only word you know, McKinney? Yes?” he snarls, obviously flustered. “Are we sure this isn’t all some elaborate set up? Could she be in on this?”

“In what way, Waite?” I bark back. “Do you think she was happy about staging her own suicide?”

“No, of course not, but maybe she was planted as your surrogate to get insider information on us. Maybe, she had outstayed her usefulness and was a liability, so Moreno decided to dispose of her. The world is so fucking twisted, it’s hard to know what is bloody possible and what isn’t. Today, if you told me you were a fucking unicorn, I’d believe you.”

“Now you sound fucking paranoid and insane,” I tell him. “That’s normally Russell’s department.”

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