Chapter 9
L eaving Abigail in the capable hands of Smithy, and the less capable hands of Cole, I head up to the second floor to my home office. If I know Alex, he’ll be up there fuming, plotting ways to murder me for not filling him in on my plans sooner.
Bypassing the master bedroom—my father’s old room that I still haven’t cleared out, I make my way to the hall’s end, where the bass of heavy metal music greets me. Alex detests working in silence, and if it’s not Linkin Park or I Prevail blasting, then it’s me.
“About time you joined me,” Alex comments as I enter my office. He's lounging in my chair, casually tossing my rugby stress ball in the air. Rugby is how I met Alex. That sport introduced me to people I didn’t even know I needed until they came charging into my life at full throttle and wouldn’t be deterred by my sullen teenage self. Thank fuck for that. If Owen hadn’t intercepted my father’s men, I’d be dead. And if Alex hadn’t dragged me out of that place while I was damn near catatonic with shock, my father probably would have finished the job himself.
“Alright, you bastard, lay it on me,” I say as I sit across from him, bracing my elbows on my knees and meeting his gaze.
“What were you thinking, not telling me about the merger? You know I’m the last person to tell you what to do, but man, come on. This shit has serious repercussions that we could have been preparing for. Instead, you’ve let it blindside us. Give me one reason I shouldn’t lay into you.”
“Mum.” One words. Three letters. But it instantly changes the pressure in the air. His shoulders drop, and he sits forward. “What did that motherfucker do?”
If anyone gets how much it tears me up inside to know my father sold Mum off to some disgusting piece of human garbage, it’s Alex. He’s backed me every step of the way as I’ve tried to track down who bought her, where she ended up, and what happened to her. After all, he’s been doing the same thing for his sister and is unfortunately all too aware of what it feels like to be chasing dead ends and cold leads.
“That’s the thing. You know I’m at a dead end and I can’t fit the puzzle pieces together, no matter how hard I try. I’m missing something, and at this point, I’ve exhausted all the resources we have. I used my suspicions about Helen not actually dying in that hit and run to get Jonathan to agree to a merger. I’m sick and tired of not knowing what the fuck happened, Alex. And if going behind everyone’s backs to set up a merger gains me access to Brennan O’Malley and his IT skills? I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
His look of compassion grates on me. I hate it, even knowing it’s not pity.
“You should have told me, Lo. You know damn well I would have backed you from here to Toronto if that’s what it took. Now we’re going to have to face the firing squad together and win them over.” He sighs, standing and shrugging his leather jacket on.
Unfortunately, I know he’s right. As much as I’d like to just forge ahead and not answer to anyone here, that’s not how it works here.
The Clan used to be ruled by the Old Guard as a democracy until one day my father’s great grandfather challenged them each to a fight, fuelled by greed and a hunger to lead. He won by a landslide and since then the Clan has always been ruled by a Graham, with the Old Guard acting as advisors for the most part.
Which I completely disregarded, setting up the merger without their input. For that, they’ll want my head.
I can’t wait to see them try.
“This is the exact reason your father never thought you were fit to lead!” Snarls Samuel Blackwood from his seat on the opposite side of the table as me. Alex and Peter are seated on each side of me, trying to show a united front though the anger simmering off Peter may as well be a physical thing.
Adam Carson and James Dougherty sit either side of Samuel looking as pissed off as him and it’s all I can do not to roll my eyes. Instead, I kick back in my chair and observe the three of them. Each of them is around my father’s age - well on their way to being fifty if they aren't already- with slicked back hair and hands free of the blood mine are soaked in. They sit on their high horse thinking they can rip me a new one for taking action when they haven’t seen action in the bedroom never mind in the field for years.
“My father was a piece of scum, and his opinions are invalid. As proven when I sliced that fuckers throat and emptied my gun in him for good measure. Now, if none of you have anything worthwhile to say, I have shit to do. It’s called cleaning up his messes and crafting a better future for all of us. And as the fucking Boss of this shit show, I do not have to answer to any of you!” I spit as I slam my fist on the table, levelling them all with a glare.
“What do you think about this, Peter? Surely as one of us and as his second, you feel the sting of being left in the dark.” Adam jeers from his place opposite Peter and I tense for the fallout.
“While I do wish he would have at least consulted me, I have to agree he’s just trying to clean up house. And there’s so much mess to sort out thanks to Angus that it’s no wonder this may have...slipped his mind to mention.” With a pointed look Peter makes it clear he’s trying to offer me an out.
A scapegoat that’s mine to take unless I want to hang myself with a noose of my own making.
As tempting as it is to stand my ground, now is not the time. There will be time to show these fuckers what I think of them and their tendency to dig their noses where they don’t belong. For now, letting this lay and moving forward is the best thing I can do, so with a tilt of my head I let them take that as they may before excusing myself.
I have a date to organise and get ready for after all.
This mess can be kept for another day, my wife on the other hand shouldn’t be made to wait another second.