Chapter Twenty-Eight
COOPER
“So, what was your plan? Were you and Mila going to run forever?”
“I didn’t have a plan. I took the money and we headed to a small village in Thailand.
Lived quiet. Simple. Then she got pregnant.
I was working all the time when you boys were born.
I was there, but I wasn't there. Mila was so excited.
Wanted to name her after her grandmother.
Petra. When the doctor put my daughter in my arms, I knew I had to do better. I had to keep them both safe.
“I had my side stuff going, popped over to the States here and there to deal with Leanne Gates and Trey Spencer. A dollar still goes a long way in Thailand.” He looked down at his feet, his fists clenched at his side.
“I got cocky. Careless. He found us. One night, Tsepov's men broke in. Slit Mila's throat. Tried to take Petra.”
He swallowed hard as if struggling to go on, and I almost believed his grief was real. I wanted to believe it, wanted to believe my father was human, that he had a heart, as misguided as it was.
I looked at the little girl who’d climbed into Alice’s lap, a bedraggled stuffed rabbit clutched under one arm, face smeared with strawberry ice cream. For her sake, I wished my father had loved her mother, but wishes were a waste of time.
“How long ago?”
“Six months. Since then, we’ve been hopping all over the globe. Staying one step ahead of Tsepov. He’s almost had us a few times.”
A chill spread through my gut, up my spine, and into my brain, icing me over with cold calculation.
He’d almost had them a few times?
I looked at my little sister, at Petra, taking in that dark hair and her Sinclair eyes, the bow of her red mouth and her soft child’s skin. She was so small, even compared to Alice.
I shuddered to think of what would happen to her if she fell into Tsepov's hands.
Knowing Maxwell, her mother had undoubtedly been beautiful.
Petra sleepily rested her head on Alice's shoulder, eyelids drooping. She was so vulnerable. Defenseless. And for six months, she’d had only my father to keep her safe.
Except my fucking father—her fucking father—had put her in danger in the first place. Whatever happened tonight, he wasn't taking Petra with him.
Taking in the hard line of my jaw, the anger in my eyes, Maxwell looked for a diversion. Surging to his feet, the charm back in full force, he turned to watch Alice wipe Petra’s sticky face with a wet towel.
“Alice will put you to bed, sweetheart,” he said to Petra.
Alice stiffened.
Oh, fuck no.
Maxwell was not giving orders to Alice.
Not to my Alice.
He could go fuck himself first.
He didn't run the company anymore. Alice wasn’t his employee, she was my woman. I crossed the room to stand beside her.
“Alice doesn’t work for you, and she isn’t the nanny. You can put Petra to bed in the guest room. Then we’ll talk.”
Maxwell's eyes narrowed on me, flicked to Alice and back to me. Without a word, he strode forward and took Petra from Alice's arms. Petra reached for him. “Sleepy, Daddy.”
To Alice, I said, “Will you follow them to the guest room? See if he needs anything to put her down while I secure the exits and call the control room? When you’re done, meet me in the kitchen.”
“On it, boss.” She rose to her toes and pressed a kiss to the side of my jaw before following Maxwell down the hall. I was right behind them, headed not to the guest room but to the fire door that led from the back of the apartment to the roof and the back stairwell.
I dialed the control room in the office as I checked to make sure the lock was secure from the inside. Without the code or a key, Maxwell wouldn’t be able to open it. He was trapped with me until I was done with him.
The control room was staffed twenty-four hours a day, ready to handle anything that came up after hours. Lindsey, one of our newer recruits to Lucas’s hacker team, picked up on the first ring.
“Cooper? Everything okay?”
“My father turned up. He’s in my place for now, but he’ll be staying with my mother on the second floor.
Make sure all the exits are covered. Bring in extra staff if you need to.
I want everyone carrying a Taser along with their weapon.
Go for a stun before a shot, but if he tries to run, stop him any way necessary. ”
“Understood. Do you want me to update your brothers?”
“Yes. Loop in Griffen, too.”
Lindsey hung up and I headed back down the hall past the guest room. Alice had already left Maxwell with Petra. The low rumble of his voice and Petra’s answering words were muffled through the door as I passed it.
Alice waited in the kitchen, running a towel under cold water.
“Come here. Let me see your fingers. You tore a knuckle when you hit him.”
I raised my hand. She was right. I hadn't even noticed. I let her clean the blood off my skin, absorbing the feel of her soft, strong hands, so much smaller than mine, yet just as capable.
“You okay?” I asked. Alice laughed.
“The question is are you okay? That was a hell of a lot to get hit with in the middle of the night.”
“Yeah, well, that's Maxwell. Could you hear his story from the kitchen?”
“I heard enough. He never said what he's doing here.”
“I can guess,” I said. “He's run out of options. And maybe, possibly, he’s thinking about somebody other than himself.”
“You have a little sister,” Alice said with wonder in her voice. She dropped the wet towel on the counter, and I pulled her into my arms, needing the comfort of her body against me.
“I have a little sister.” The thought left me reeling. “We just have to figure out what we’re going to do with her.”
“Before that,” Alice said, “we have to figure out what we’re going to do with Maxwell.”
Maxwell strode back in, the grief wiped from his eyes, his smile all charm. “So, you two. Wondered how long that would take.”
Alice stiffened but said nothing, giving him her stoniest stare. I followed her lead and ignored him. I wanted to take another swing at him for daring to comment after all he'd done to keep us apart, but I stayed where I was, my arm firmly around Alice.
The silence grew more uncomfortable with every passing second. Maxwell shifted his weight and opened his mouth, but I got there first.
“Petra asleep?”
“It's been a long day,” he said in answer.
“I bet. Do you want a beer? Whiskey?”
“Whiskey,” Maxwell said with another flash of that charming smile. His charm had worn off on me long ago.
“Sit. I’ll get you a drink and we’ll talk.” I raised an eyebrow at Alice, and she answered with a quiet, “Yes, please.”
Maxwell sat in the middle of the couch, knees spread wide, taking up as much space as possible. He should know better than to think his power plays would do any good here. He’d raised me with this crap.
Alice perched on the arm of the chair opposite the couch, waiting for me. I delivered my father's whiskey and sat, handing Alice her own glass. Her free hand closed over my shoulder, a show of solidarity.
Taking a sip of my whiskey, I gave my father an assessing stare. “What’s your plan? I know you didn't come back here without one.”
“Things are a little hot right now. Petra needs to stay with you. Here. Where she’s safe. I can't lose her like I did her mother.”
If that was a bid for sympathy, Maxwell had the wrong audience.
“Petra can stay as long as she wants. You're staying, too.”
Maxwell lifted his chin, a hard look in his eyes. Just as I'd guessed. He wasn't planning to stick around, just wanted to dump his kid and run. I had no issue with keeping Petra. Hell, if he tried to take her, I'd stop him.
That little girl was my sister. She deserved better than to be dragged all over the world fleeing the man who'd killed her mother.
“It's time to stop running, Maxwell,” I said.
My father stared back, nonplussed, his impermeable veneer undamaged as if my words had bounced right off.
He shook his head with a wry smile I knew was an act, as was the smooth sip of whiskey before he spoke. “I can’t come back, Cooper. Surely, you can see that. I’m sure as hell not going to spend the rest of my life sitting behind a desk.”
I barked out a laugh, the amusement taking me by surprise. “Agreed. You're not coming back to the company. Ever. There’s no place for you at Sinclair Security.”
I expected to feel something as the words left my mouth.
Guilt. Pain. I felt a twinge of regret, but that was it.
Maxwell had made his choices. Much like our mother, Maxwell’s family had never been on his list of priorities.
Not really. Like Lacey, he only cared about us when we served his interests.
We’d busted our asses to make the company what it was today, and now his bullshit with Andrei Tsepov put everything we’d built at risk. If it came out that Maxwell Sinclair was the subject of an FBI investigation into his ties to a mob boss we’d lose every one of our high-profile clients.
We needed to work with the FBI or we’d lose everything. My father didn't give a shit about that. I didn't care. He was going to cooperate whether he liked it or not.
“I'd argue with you, boy, but I'm done with the company. You can buy me out and have the whole thing. I just need you to keep an eye on your sister while I settle things with Andrei.” He slugged back the rest of his whiskey and made to stand.
“I don't think so,” I said putting my own glass on the side table. Alice's hand fell on my shoulder and squeezed, a silent message of support. I leaned into her for a second before bracing my forearms on my knees.
“Move one inch, and I’ll put you on the ground.”
Maxwell froze for a second before settling back into the cushions as if he’d never intended to get up. Time to lay out some truths.
“First, we will not be buying you out of Sinclair Security. You’re dead. Your ownership share was divided among the four of us as directed in your will. Unless you want to go through the legal process of coming back to life. I’m sure Agent Holley can help with that.”
His face blanched as the ramifications of being dead hit home. There was no way he could take that risk unless he cooperated. Not that we’d give him back the company even if he did cooperate with the FBI. I’d see him in court first.
“My father founded that company,” he protested.
“And you almost destroyed it. You still might. Who do you think Grandpa would want in charge? You or his grandsons?” I barely paused. We both knew the answer to that question, and it wasn’t Maxwell.
“Here’s what's going to happen now, Dad. You're going downstairs to the safe house with Mom. The whole building is secured and under guard. No one gets in and no one gets out without my approval. Everyone on guard is authorized to use force on anyone who moves without clearance. In the morning, we’re going to call Agent Holley. You will work out an arrangement with him that is satisfactory.”
“Satisfactory? For who? Me or the FBI?”
“For the FBI,” I answered, inwardly shaking my head.
I reiterated, “Satisfactory for the FBI.
And in case you don't understand, satisfactory means that the FBI will not be pressing charges against me, Axel, Knox, Evers, or Mom as accessories to your long history of criminal behavior in coordination with the Tsepov empire. You will give them whatever you need to give them to get the rest of us off the hook. Do you understand?”
“You might as well pin a target on my back, Cooper.”
“That's not my problem.”
“You’d throw your old man to the wolves like that? You’re asking me to inform to the FBI, to hand them Tsepov. You might as well put a gun to my head.”
“What do you think you did to us when you stole his money and ran? You took your girlfriend and you left us at the mercy of the fucking mob. You left Mom at the mercy of the mob. Did you know they broke into her condo? Took pictures of her sleeping to scare us into getting their money back?
“And Andrei is a fucking moron. At least when his uncle was in charge we were dealing with a professional. He almost killed Alice and Adam at Knox's house by accident. He shot Smokey Winters and left him to bleed to death.
“This whole shit-storm is your fault, and not only could you take down the business, we could all end up in jail as accessories.”
“Holley knows you boys aren’t involved,” my father said in a weak protest.
“That doesn’t matter,” I shot back. “He might believe us, but you used the company to run protection for Tsepov’s deliveries which makes us accessories anyway.
But you don't give a shit about that. I guess we should count ourselves lucky you care enough about our little sister to get her somewhere safe before you take off again.”
I hated the anger in my voice. I wanted to be cold, ruthless and unemotional. I wanted to be ice. Instead, that pure rage was back, the flames burning hot.
“You're my son,” Maxwell blustered. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“Where's the money, Dad?”
“What money?”
I gritted my teeth, losing patience. My hand fisted at my side. If not for Alice’s presence beside me, her fingers curled over my shoulder, I might have launched myself out of the chair and planted my fist in his smug face.
“Don't fuck with me, Dad. Where's the goddamn money?”
My father looked at me through eyes I knew as well as my own. I could see the calculation there as he weighed and measured his answer before he said, “It's gone.”
“Bullshit. That's bullshit, but fine.”
Maxwell and I stared at each other, the silence in the room a lead weight.
I knew exactly what he was thinking, knew he was already working out a plan to make a clean getaway from his family, the FBI, and Andrei Tsepov.
Then he could ride off into the sunset, his pockets stuffed with his stolen cash and the rest of us holding the bag.
Not this time.
He must have read me right, must have known I wasn't going to let him go anywhere because he sat back, all charming smiles again. “Okay. Okay, kid, we'll play it your way. I'll go downstairs and make nice with your mom. We'll see about tomorrow. But listen, don't tell your mom about Petra.”
Disgusted, I agreed. At the thought of how my mother would react if she found out my father's love child was stashed one floor above— Nope, not going there.
Petra was three. My mother was confined to her apartment. How hard could it be to keep them apart?