9. Remington
REMINGTON
I didn’t want to face my father. All I wanted to do was drag Henri back upstairs and toy with him until he was begging me to fuck him.
I’d open him up, use him, show him he was mine, but what I’d said to him was true.
Anticipation would make it even better. I needed something to look forward to after my meeting with X.
The man was powerful, intelligent, and ruthless, and he knew my darkest secret.
I was going to have to stay focused during dinner and monitor my every word.
How foolish was it for me to take the young man I’d picked up off the street to such an important meeting?
It was a good idea to bring a date since X’s boyfriend, Emilio, would be there.
I wanted to be a good host after all. I wasn’t seeing anyone.
I’d made it very clear I wasn’t interested in serious relationships, and at the first hint that someone was trying to pull me into one, I dropped them instantly.
Of course there were always men seeking me out, drawn to my money and power, but they weren’t trustworthy.
Even still, I had some safe options, but I wanted to take Henri.
Blackjack had scoured Henri’s background.
There was nothing there to indicate trouble.
And Blackjack was damn good at finding people’s secrets.
Between his computer skills and his ability to extract information from captives, I usually had a wealth of information at my disposal.
That was partly why this whole fiasco with the gunrunners and the Landrys was pissing me off.
Who was helping them hide? Business didn’t get done in our circles without me hearing about it. It made me look less than fully competent. That is not a look I ever wanted to have.
I already had people looking deeper into the Landrys, and our intel said more weapons would be coming in through the Port of New Orleans in the next few weeks.
If we could get a few more details, we could intervene and make sure the suppliers knew they were not to do business with anyone unapproved by us.
The guards at the gate of our family home in Metairie nodded to me as I drove through.
The drive circled around a grassy mound that had a fountain at the center.
It was ostentatious, but my father liked to show off his wealth, and that was his prerogative.
He’d spent many years increasing the family’s power and riches.
That was why I was so determined not to disappoint him now.
I parked my Ferrari in front of the house, and I couldn’t resist running my hand along its curves after shutting my door. Maybe my father wasn’t the only one who liked to show off. I was damn glad I hadn’t been driving my baby when I’d met Henri last night.
I expected my father to be in his office, but when I stepped through the door, he called to me from the front sitting room.
He was there with Marjorie, drinking tea and eating pastries.
My father had the newspaper laid out in front of him, a habit he hadn’t broken no matter how many times my brothers and I had explained the ease of reading the news digitally.
My stepmother really had domesticated him.
You could tell from the way he looked at her that he was more than happy to be there, having a quiet afternoon at home.
What they had was special, but it wasn’t for me.
They’d both suffered for so many years that they could have spent together, all because my father refused to bring her into his world, the world he was handing over to me.
How could I do any differently when I was stepping into the role of head of the family?
“Remington, it’s so good to see you,” Marjorie said. I gave her a hug and sat on the sofa opposite them. “Would you like tea or coffee or something to eat?”
“No thank you. I just ate at home.”
“I wish you would still think of this as your home.”
“I do.” That was the truth. The place where I had grown up would always be the center of my family’s activities.
Corbin still lived there, and I still spent plenty of time at the house—even if Marjorie and Pop always acted as if I hadn’t been by in ages—but I needed my own place, needed to have space to figure out how I was going to run the Theriot empire instead of always being under the watchful gaze of my father.
I shifted my attention to him. “I came by to give you an update on what I learned last night.”
He nodded and looked at my stepmother. “Marjorie, do you mind?”
She gave him an indulgent smile. “No, go ahead, though as I told you a million times, you can talk business in front of me.”
He shook his head. “It’s not polite, and I don’t want to bother you.”
“The only thing that bothers me is thinking of you in danger.”
He waved a hand as if brushing off her concern. “I know how to take care of myself.”
“Not as well as you think.” She gave my father a look as he picked up one of the chocolate croissants from the tray. “How many of those have you had? You know your doctor told you to lay off the sugar.”
He scoffed. “That man would take away every pleasure in life if he could. I’m not going to make myself miserable.”
“Having one pastry instead of several probably wouldn’t contribute much to your misery.”
I smiled. My mother had been raised in a crime family and taught the old-fashioned rules of respect. She’d never openly challenged my father. Marjorie didn’t believe in any such rules, and I loved her for it.
“Don’t worry about me so much.”
“Oh, Bébé, I can’t help it.”
They gave each other sappy smiles, and I cleared my throat.
“You’re always so impatient, son. You should try to relax more.”
I forced myself not to scowl at him. He was the one who’d passed on most of the family responsibilities to me so he could relax. How was I supposed to do that?
“There’s a lot going on right now, Pop.”
“Sure. But you can handle it.”
His confidence in me helped me relax far more than him telling me to.
He was still tough as hell, and I knew if an enemy walked in right now, he’d put a bullet through the man’s head without asking questions, but he’d never held back affection from me and my brothers, not even before he and Marjorie had gotten back together and he’d found true love himself.
I knew he truly cared for me, and I also knew he didn’t give compliments lightly.
He was pleased with how I’d handled things, but that was why I felt so much pressure to get the damn gunrunner situation cleared up.
I couldn’t fuck things up and make him or anyone else in the crime world think less of me.
Any show of weakness would bring the sharks circling.
My family had held power for decades. We had solid alliances and firm control over much of what happened in the city, but I’d been taught to never take our position for granted.
There were always those looking to move in, thinking they could undermine our power. We needed to appear as strong as ever.
My father stood, and I followed him to his office after promising Marjorie to look in on her before I left. I assured her the meeting shouldn’t take too long. At least I hoped it wouldn’t.
My father’s office looked like it could be a set for a stereotypical mobster movie.
It was decorated with dark colors, a massive desk, and heavy leather furniture.
When he’d worked in here regularly, he’d always had a glass of whiskey beside him, no matter the time of day.
I was sure in my grandfather’s day the room had been filled with smoke.
I’d rarely seen the man without a cigar.
My father had given up smoking ages ago, soon after I was born.
It was just one more way he’d shown he cared about us, no matter how dangerous a man he might be.
I was glad he’d taught us we could be both family men and businessmen, but that didn’t mean I believed him when he told me I needed to find someone who meant as much to me as Marjorie did to him.
I explained what happened the night before, minimizing the situation with the car, then showed him the pictures I’d taken.
He studied the images for a few moments before nodding. “That’s Charles Landry. I’m sure of it. So what’s your next move?”
I gave him a rundown of the intel we’d gathered.
“That’s a lot of information, but it’s not a plan. You’re nervous about this one, and you don’t want to commit to anything.”
I hated how easily he could read me. “I don’t want to fuck it up.”
I couldn’t believe I’d just admitted that to him. I wanted him to think I always knew what I was doing.
“The surest way to fuck something up is to do nothing.”
I studied him for a moment. Was he serious? Charging in when our intel was wrong or taking out the wrong people seemed far worse than biding our time. “You think we should move now?”
“The longer these men are getting what they want and selling their wares in our territory, the worse we look. It’s time to step in and put an end to this now that we know the players.”
I sighed. “He was right, but if I gave the order to move in and we were wrong, then we were going to get screwed, and that would look far worse.”
“I’m meeting with X tonight, and I’ll find out what kind of help he’s willing to contribute. If weapons are truly coming in in ten days, we’ll be in position to intercept.
He thought that over for a moment. “That sounds good. It’s just enough time to move rationally, but you have an end date. You’ve got to pin yourself down and make moves with confidence. If you don’t, others will think you’re hesitating.”
“Is it hesitating if you’re waiting for the best information?”
My father studied me for a moment. “You know I’m not an impulsive man.”
He hadn’t been when I was a kid, but the million-dollar necklace he’d bought my stepmother on a whim would indicate that might have changed.
“You have to know the difference between careful planning and questioning yourself.”
“And you don’t question yourself?”