“Boys, thanks for coming so quickly.”
I eye the two of them as they shift on their feet, knowing I’m aware they were fucking off.
“All okay, boss?” Breckin asks.
Donovan stays quiet, waiting for me to get on with whatever I called him here for.
It is good to see his skin tone has returned to its normal shade. I should have had Breckin clean up Daniels, let him see firsthand what Malia will do to him if he keeps pressing her. However, I am confident Donovan confided in his best friend about the horrors she visited upon our guest.
“I got a call today from a friend in the bureau. Brenner is planning a move on our main warehouse tonight. I know it’s a major haul, but I need you both to stay behind.”
“I don’t understand why we can’t just kill this fucker,” Donovan groans, and Breckin laughs. “It’s not like we haven’t killed cops before.”
My son is not wrong. We have killed plenty of cops. But none without good reason. I do not go out of my way to kill people who do not deserve it. At least, not anymore.
“It seems you have forgotten we have a code, Donovan,” I say while rising from my office chair.
Leaning on my fists, I lean into the boys in front of me so they understand how serious I am.
“We might be criminals, and some of us are more ruthless than others, but we stand by our own set of morals. I am not sure what the two of you are trying to prove, but my no-kill order stands.”
“Fucking up a shipment normally gets you killed.” Breckin steps closer to me as he speaks. “Law or not.”
I rise to my full height, unimpressed with the tone my unofficial son used. My head tilts to the side, and I eye them both carefully. Breckin watches me, waiting for my next move, and Donovan’s mouth has fallen agape.
“Stand back from this one. I will not repeat myself. What I say and how I choose to run this business does not concern the two of you.” My eyes shift to Breckin and narrow. “I do not need to explain myself to either of you. Am I clear?”
Breckin dips his chin in a single nod, so I look at Donovan, who is suspiciously watching me. Maybe the director was right, and they should find out. Or his words are making me paranoid that I might just fail Joey again. Either way, these two do not have the right to question me or my decisions.
“Dismissed,” I say with finality, watching the boys stalk out of the room.
I sit back in my chair, pick an empty glass and whiskey from the table next to my desk, and pour myself a much-needed drink. After throwing back my first glass, I rummage through my drawer and pull out a lockbox.
When I finally get the old lock to budge, and it opens the box, I am met with a familiar picture, one taken almost thirty years ago before our lives changed forever.
A younger version of myself and the man who stood next to me through every trial and triumph. Both of us were carefree boys with a big future ahead.
Joseph Alexander Brenner.