Page 47 of Boss

Chapter 11

“It’s fucking snowing out there,” Tarek grumbled.

The men gathered didn’t respond. A lot had changed in the time he’d been away. The most notable change was his father. The last he saw of him he was being fed with a spoon. Now, he sat upright in his wheelchair and spoke clearly. The old guy truly was indestructible. Tarek stood at the window with his hands shoved down in his pockets. He glanced back over his shoulder. Alek, the family matriarch, had polished off his drink, and was now lighting another cigar, a bad sign for a man recovering from a stroke.

“You can’t smoke in here,” Dale said.

“Pops, you know what the doctors said,” Henry chimed in.

“Let him have the fucking cigar, if he wants,” Dale said.

“You just told him he couldn’t smoke in here,” Henry quipped back.

“It’s his fucking building, he can do whatever he wants,” Dale replied.

Tarek walked away from the window. He sat on the edge of the desk. He half listened to his brother’s bicker. Instead, he stared at his father and waited.

“How are things with Kovalevsky?” his father asked.

“Things are open. The deals we agreed too can go either way. He’s still very much invested in our success.”

“I’m sure he is,” Dale mumbled.

The old man only took one puff off his cigar before extinguishing it with his thumb. “Quiet, Dale. Your brother knows what he is doing. You and Henry are to stay out of his way.”

For several minutes, Tarek processed what wasn’t said:

Be careful, but do the dirty deed your brothers never have the balls to do.Get the job done, and keep the Marshall name out of it by any means necessary. Wipe the blood off your shirt Tarek, in case the media is watching. Be the man they fear, just never let any of that stink rub off on me or my sons. And maybe I will forgive you for going to my enemies and handing over a sizeable portion of my profits. Maybe I will forgive you for turning the board against me and Dale while I was stuck in a wheelchair and shitting in a diaper. I understand son. This is all about you proving to me that you are a man. Not the boy I used to kick around. But remember. I’m the bigger man and I still can crush you if I wish.

All of Tarek's brothers weak, silver spoon fed, and sheltered. His father knew from the moment he plucked Tarek out of the orphanage that Tarek would never be weak.

“Boys, wait outside. I have something to discuss with your brother,” Alek Marshall said. Dale was hesitant, but Henry did exactly as his father asked. After a stare off with Tarek, Dale turned and followed Henry out.

Alek stared at Tarek. “I'm not mad son. I understand why you thought it might be possible to defeat me. Kovalevsky is a powerful man. But his power is Russia, mine is here. I still run Texas, I still run this company. Remember this; the rope I give you is the one I will hang you with if you ever try to challenge me again. Are we clear?”

Tarek smirked. “Yes sir.”

Alek smiled. “Good.” He turned and wheeled his chair toward the door. Dale, who must have been listening with his hand on the door, opened it for his father. “Now, make me more money.”

And then Alek was gone. Tarek paced his office. He was not done. Not by a long shot. First he needed to cover his tracks. And that idiot Bill Havarti had lost critical information that could not fall in his brother’s hands. Information he suspected was stolen.

The phone rang on his desk.

Tarek picked it up. “What do you have me for me?”

“You were right to have me start digging again, her name isn't Angela Brown. It's Kassandra Turner. And get this. She belongs to the E.P.U.,” his private investigator Cash Dagwood said.

He walked over to his chair, and sat down. “E.P.U., huh?”

“Check the email I sent,” Cash said.

Tarek clicked the mouse and scanned his mailbox. The E.P.U. was some goody-two-shoes, liberal bullshit group called the Environment Protectors United. They had YouTube videos exposing big corporations that they accused of polluting the land and drinking water. For the past eight years they’d protested against the Marshalls in the press, and through social media. They even had a small group arrive every morning to their Gulf Shore office with picket signs. They were as relentless as PETA in their pursuit of his adopted father's empire. But he’d never let them get close. He was surprised and angered by the news.

When Tarek opened the email he uncovered the undeniable truth. His darling Angela Brown, was playing him for a fool. She was indeed Kassandra Turner, and from what he could tell she was from Plano Texas. He didn't read much further. Instead he clicked on the attached j-peg for the images.

“I would have called you earlier this week—”

“You should have called earlier,” Tarek remarked.

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