Bad Deeds

by Lisa Renee Jones

  “Your brother almost got you killed. My brother just might do the same for all of us if I don’t get him under control.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  EMILY

  Friday morning arrives, and Shane and I fall into what is fast becoming our routine: a run, coffee, conversation, and yes, usually sex. But the part I really am coming to love is this one right now, where I stand in front of him, in the closet, and loop his tie for him, then flatten my hand over it and his heart.

  “I love you in gray,” I say, smoothing the silk over his always impressively hard chest. “It matches your eyes. Cool, calculating.”

  He laughs, this low, sexy, smooth sound that I feel in my belly, and oh, how I love that feeling and this man. “And I love you in nothing at all,” he says, cupping my backside over my emerald-green sheath dress. “However, you, my woman, look good in green, blue, sweats, and with brown hair—though I am curious about your blond hair.”

  “I was thinking I could get a wig,” I say. “Didn’t we talk about that before? Then I could be the other woman here or there.”

  “Hmmm,” he says. “I like that idea. I command you to make it happen.”

  I laugh. “Yes, Master.” I shake my head. “That was a joke. You are not my master.”

  “I bet I could get you to call me Master.”

  “Me too,” I say, “but I’d have to hurt you when it was over.”

  “That would earn you another spanking.”

  My teeth worry my bottom lip and my cheeks heat. “We were a little intense that night.”

  He sobers. “I liked it, sweetheart. I want to do it again. Can I?”

  “Everything’s okay when it’s with you.”

  He reaches up and slides a strand of hair behind my ear. “I have a surprise for you.”

  “I like surprises. Tell me.”

  “Then it won’t be a surprise.”

  “When will you tell me?”

  “Maybe today.” He kisses me. “Which is why we should get to the office.”

  I run my hand over his stubble and he scrubs his chin. “And,” he says, “you’re telling me that I forgot to shave.”

  “Indeed you did.” I push to my toes, and this time I kiss him. “I’ll go make us some coffee to go while you break out the razor.” I turn away, and he smacks my backside. I yelp and look over my shoulder. “Watch that, you.”

  “Just making sure you remember what my hand feels like.”

  Grinning, I start walking, wondering how this man thinks I could ever forget his hands on my body. I snatch my purse off the bed and head down the stairs, setting it on the counter to make our coffee. I’ve just started one cup brewing when my phone rings. Unzipping my purse, I pull out my cell to see Derek’s number. I hit answer. “Derek. Hey.”

  “Emily?” he says, his voice deep, gravelly.

  “Yes.”

  “I meant to call my mother. Fuck.”

  “Were you checking on your father?”

  “Yeah. You know anything?”

  “Your mother calls every morning during our run. Nothing has changed. He’s still—”

  “Got it. Still not good.”

  “But he’s not bad. He’s just not good.”

  “Right. Not bad. Not good.”

  “And you?”

  “Fine.”

  “Are you coming in today?”

  He’s silent a moment. Then two. “I hate him, you know.”

  “Your father’s a hard man.”

  “Shane. I hate Shane.”

  “Oh,” I say, fighting a defensive, protective response. “He doesn’t hate you.”

  “You know why I hate him? Because he always gets everything he wants. He got you.”

  “But you didn’t want me.”

  “But I wanted Teresa.”

  “I know. I do. And it hurts right now. It’ll—”

  “Get better? Would it get better for you if it were Shane?”

  My throat thickens. “No. No, it would not. Derek—”

  “You know what really sucks about Shane? I love him as much as I hate him. I mean, he’s just so fucking good at everything. Does he have to be good at everything?”

  “Let’s have lunch. Can you do lunch?”

  “I don’t know.”

  It’s not a no, and so I push for more. “Please.”

  “I’ll think about it.” The line goes dead.

  I sigh and stick my phone back into my purse, looking up as Shane rounds the corner, looking tall, dark, and gorgeous in his gray suit. His face chiseled. His dark hair just long enough to be a bit wild when I run my fingers through it. And the light in those gray eyes right now, just plain mischievous. He stops in front of me, hands settling on my shoulders. “That surprise I mentioned. I wanted to wait to tell you, but I just got off the phone and I really want to tell you now.”

  “Okay. I’m going nuts here. Tell me.”

  “I made an offer on the fashion company you want.”

  “We did? We made an offer?”

  “We did. Days ago.”

  “Days ago? When? How? What did they say?”

  “It’s yours, sweetheart. You are now CEO of a fashion line. I’m delaying the signing of the paperwork to ensure we get this Mike stuff behind us, but—”

  I wrap my hand around his neck to bring his head down to mine and kiss him. “Thank you. I’m going to make this so good for the company. For you. For us. It’s going to be huge. Amazing. I think I’m going to cry.” I swipe at my eyes. “I mean. My law degree. My brother. And now I have you and this, and how did that happen?”

  He turns me to the counter, and his big legs frame mine in that wonderful, brutishly sexy way they often do, and he says, “I got lucky when you drank out of the wrong coffee cup.”

  “I got lucky.”

  “We got lucky.”

  “Yes.” I smile. “Can we do the Jessica line?”

  “This is yours. You can do what you want. You can even give her a small slice of stock if you want.”

  “We can?”

  “Of course.”

  “We should take her to dinner tonight and tell her.”

  He strokes hair from my eyes. “If I’m correct, Mike is going to strike today, and I’ll have my hands full. But why don’t you take her if I can’t make it? We’ll celebrate this weekend when I give you your second surprise.”

  “I can’t handle another surprise.”

  He kisses my forehead. “You’re going to have to. Now, forget the coffee. I need to get to work and be ready for Mike.” He steps away from me and I grab my purse, following him to the door, Derek back on my mind.

  “Derek called me,” I say as Shane reaches for the door.

  “And?” he asks, turning to face me, hope in his eyes that says he is a brother who hasn’t given up on his brother, and I’m not going to let him.

  “We might be having lunch soon. He’s just hurt and healing. He’ll be okay.”

  “Okay,” he says. “Well. I guess that’s better than not okay.”

  He opens the door and we step outside, his arm sliding around my shoulders, together, when Derek is just so very alone.

  SHANE

  I’ve barely sat down behind my desk when I hear Jessica call out. “Hey! What are you doing? Shane!” My intercom goes off. “Mike Rogers—”

  “Is here,” I supply as the brute of a man steps into my office in his typical uniform of jeans and a pullover sports shirt, and he’s not alone. Beside him is a twentysomething man in an ill-fitting shirt and tie.

  “Do it,” Mike orders, waving the kid forward.

  The man steps forward, sets a piece of paper on my desk, and says, “You’ve been served,” before turning and leaving the office.

  “I told you that was coming,” Mike says. “I’m not letting the kids run the ship.”

  “And when my father returns?”

  “He won’t return.”

  “You’re wrong, but it really doesn’t matter.” I open my desk and sli
de a file forward. “We no longer wish to do business with you. This is a proposal to split the company and have you, and whatever investors you’ve gathered to take us over, buy out Brandon Pharmaceuticals.”

  He laughs. “Why would I settle for less than all?”

  “Because you fucked my mother.”

  The door shuts behind Mike and he rotates as we both take in the sight of Derek standing at the door in a perfectly pressed blue suit. He is the picture of professionalism. “And I’m not the attorney here, my brother is, but I don’t think juries favor people who fuck their best friend and business partner’s wife while he’s fighting for his life. And since my brother is one of the best attorneys in the country, I’m certain he must know a law or two that breaks.”

  “I do know a law or two or ten,” I say. “And I have to tell you, Mike, I love a good day in the courtroom.” I tap the file in front of me. “I put some pictures in there for you. Examples of some of the evidence I’ll present in discovery.”

  Mike steps forward and snaps up the file, flipping it open, his jaw clenching at the sight of the photos inside. His gaze jerks to mine. “You wouldn’t show the court naked images of your mother.”

  “She fucked you,” Derek says. “She’s not our mother anymore.”

  “You have until Monday to withdraw your lawsuit or the deal is off the table,” I say. “Because my time to reply to your legal action is valuable. Once I start working on it, it’s game on, as you basketball lovers say.”

  Derek steps aside and opens the door. Mike stares at me, his eyes as cold as ice, but in their depths, there is just a hint of fear. He turns and starts walking. The minute he’s out of the room, Derek shuts the door and walks to the window, leaning a fist on the glass. “I think that went well,” he says.

  I stand and hitch a hip onto my desk. “It did. Not well enough though. He’ll need extra incentive, which I plan to give him.”

  He glances over at me. “Adrian?”

  “Yes. And if I play the hand right, I get the drugs out of our operation and a promise for your safety as part of the deal.”

  “I don’t know how you plan to do that, but knowing you, it’ll work.” He faces me, folding his arms in front of his chest. “You’re just so fucking good at everything.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a compliment.”

  “I’m good too. The problem is that I try to be your kind of good. I’m better when I’m my kind of good, and I haven’t been that in a long time.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “That I hate you and I love you. And I’m here to fight with you to save the company, but I can’t work with you long-term. I want you to buy me out.”

  I push off the desk and narrow my eyes on him. “Emily said you called her and you weren’t in the best place. Now you’re here. Dressed to work. On your game with Mike. Teresa called you. You’re running away with her.”

  “No. Teresa didn’t call me.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Teresa didn’t call me.”

  “Something happened.” I tilt my head and study him. “You know where she is.”

  “No,” he says. “But as I was reading her letter again this morning, I had a realization. Teresa was brave enough to choose another path. You chose another path when you went to New York. This is all I’ve ever been, and yet it’s never been all I could be. I need to let go of the company. The way she let go of her family and me.”

  “You know where she is,” I repeat.

  “It doesn’t matter if I know where she is. I would never go to her again the way I am now. I need to be that better man she told me to be. And I can’t be him when I’m trying to be Pops or you. There’s no war between us anymore. The company’s yours.” He starts walking toward the door, and I turn to watch him leave, a knot forming in my chest.

  “You can always change your mind,” I call out.

  “But I won’t,” he says, and then he’s gone. I stand there, staring after him, trying to identify what it is I feel. And one word comes to my mind. Pride. I am proud of my brother, and I know he will be that better man. Now it’s time for me to give him the gift of freedom by cleaning up our mess. I pull my phone from my pocket and dial Adrian Martina. “Shane Brandon,” he answers. “What great news do you have for me?”

  “I have a proposal to talk about.”

  “A proposal. I’m intrigued. Come to the restaurant.”

  “Starbucks on Sixteenth Street in fifteen minutes.”

  “You presume I have nothing better to do. That’s obnoxiously demanding.”

  “And my proposal involves an obnoxious amount of money.”

  I end the call.

  * * *

  I walk into the Starbucks with Seth by my side to find Adrian sitting at a table in a corner with another burly older man standing behind him. Seth and I walk toward them, and I sit across from Adrian while Seth remains standing, mimicking the other man.

  “This is Pedro,” Adrian says.

  I don’t look at Pedro. I don’t care about Pedro. And Adrian already knows Seth. “I’ll get to the point. Mike Rogers, the owner of the Denver Mavericks—”

  “I know who he is. The stockholder who’s fucking your mother.”

  “Was fucking my mother,” I bite out. “He’s trying to force a hostile takeover of Brandon Enterprises, which means I won’t be in control of the pharmaceuticals brand.”

  “Except you’re too damn good to let him win.”

  “But you want him to win,” I say. “You want him to buy out the pharmaceuticals brand. And you want this because he’s the kind of little bitch you can control.”

  “I’ve looked into him. He is a little bitch.”

  “I gave him a proposal, and he needs encouragement to take it—which I’m quite confident you can give him.”

  “I can,” he says. “What about my drug study?”

  “I’ll submit the paperwork before the deal is signed, to ensure it happens.” I slide a file toward him. “In case you need encouragement. The profit statements will get your attention.”

  “And what do you get out of this?”

  “Money from the buyout and freedom from you.”

  “I do like that you’re honest. It’s not something I see a lot of.” He flips open the documents and looks at the highlighted number. “You have my attention. I’ll look it over, and if it’s acceptable, I’ll ensure he goes along with your proposal.”

  “I need you to pull the illegal drugs out of the operation until this is done.”

  “I told you—”

  “Short-term loss for bigger long-term gains.”

  He studies me for a few long, intense beats. “If I decide to do this, then I’ll pull them out.”

  “Let me give you some extra incentive.” I shift the papers in the folder and set a new page on top.

  He studies it for a moment and then looks at me. “This is a proposal to buy out the sports center where Mike’s team plays.”

  “Yes. I have an investment team and half the funds. Your team would need to supply the other half. But it’s legitimate. It’s obnoxiously profitable, and you’d be primed to buy a team or just pick up a piece of Mike’s.”

  “And what do you get from this? Are you a partner?”

  I flip to another sheet of paper. “Broker fee and I’m out.”

  “Smart move, but I expect nothing less from you. You get money and freedom. And I’d own Mike every which way and back.”

  “That’s right. And I’d venture to say you’d be richer than your father without having to hide your money. You’d change the legacy of the Martina name. And that’s what you said you want to do.”

  “And how will you change the Brandon name?”

  “Fashion. We’re going into fashion.”

  “Fashion,” he says. “Interesting. I’ll call an emergency board meeting about the sports center. And since I know you’d never cheat me, consider Mike my new possession. I’ll have the illicit operation rem
oved from your facility by Monday morning. Anything else?”

  “Yes. There is. My brother.”

  “What about Derek?”

  “He lives. He keeps his fingers. He’s untouchable.”

  “You’re asking for my word?”

  “Yes. I’m asking for your word.”

  “And you trust my word.”

  “I believe you are a killer. I believe you are vicious. But I believe you’re a man of your word.”

  “That I am.” He lifts the folder. “And you’ve paid for your brother’s freedom. I’ll be in touch. And so will Mike.” He stands and leaves, and I shut my eyes, relief washing over me, daring to believe this might be over.

  An hour later, I walk into the lobby of the office, a bag in my hand, then round the corner to Emily’s desk and motion for her to join me in my father’s office.

  “What’s going on?” she asks.

  “I’ll tell you in a minute.” I buzz Derek’s desk. “Derek, man. Come to Pops’s office. It’s important. And no, nothing is wrong with him.”

  Emily gives me a curious look. “You look happy.”

  “I am.” I pull the whiskey from the bag and grab three glasses from the cabinet in the corner. “Which is why we’re drinking obnoxiously expensive whiskey.” I start filling the glasses, and Derek walks in.

  “That’s some damn good whiskey,” he says, joining us at the desk. “There’s either really bad news or really good news.”

  “Adrian guaranteed me your safety after agreeing to force Mike into making the deal. And he’s going in on a deal to buy the sport center that we’re brokering for a massive chunk of change. In other words, brother, if you do cash out, do it after this deal. You’ll have the money to do whatever the hell you want.”

  Emily’s gaze jerks to Derek. “You’re leaving?”

  “I know you’ll miss my sweetness,” he says dryly. “But you can call. I won’t tell Shane. But yeah. I think it’s time I try something new.”

  “We’re going to get crazy rich with a new fashion line. You might want to stay.”

  He arches a brow. “Fashion? There’s a way to tempt me to stay. Or not. But good luck.”

  I lift my glass. “To luck,” I say. “And to new beginnings and happy endings.”