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I pull a small drive from my pocket. Holding it in the air, I eye him with all the alpha I possess. “This is the last time you question me and I justify my actions. If you don’t have faith in me, my sanity, or my allegiance, there is no place for me here.”
And then I swing my gaze to Triston, giving him an equal measure of my glare. He holds up his hands. “Understood, Killian. And for whatever it’s worth. You were right and I was wrong. I’m sorry.”
The apology does make me feel better, especially since it’s a very public one and I give my brother a nod of acknowledgment.
I toss the drive onto the table and it slides toward Mason. He covers it in his hand. “Is this the intel on the Russians?”
“A bit.” I give him a wolfish smile.
Irritation flares in eyes. I get it. I’m being difficult. But I’d like to live for a while.
He starts to speak, but Jake clears his throat. “Mason, this is what makes Killian exceptional. A ruthless attention to detail and the ability to see several steps ahead. You ought to appreciate both.”
Mason gives a stiff nod.
I’m well aware that Jake and Mason are playing good cop/bad cop. But I’ll join the game if I can learn some of Jake Kincaid’s tricks.
“What will I find on this drive?”
“I wanted to make it worth your while. It’s all the details on Ivan Ivanov.” He’s Dimitri’s most lethal foreman and the ringleader of their drug trade.
Mason jerks his chin in acceptance. The ability to strike at Ivan would hurt the Russian’s operation deeply. I’ve thrown him one bone, but it’s a large one.
Putting the drive in his shirt pocket, he and Jake stand. “How are revenues since opening your operation to the tunnel?” he asks as he stands.
“Up two hundred percent,” Triston smiles. “I know it will slow as the novelty wears off, but the money coming in now will be used to pick the bones of the Russians and Italians when the time comes.”
“Agreed,” Mason shakes hands with Triston, Ryker, and Gris before he approaches the door. Then he holds his hand out to me.
I pause for a moment before I slide my hand into his. His shake is firm, his gaze steady as he says, “I look forward to our future together.”
Gris comes to stand next to Mason, and he gives me the smallest wink before he leans over to Mason. “Just so you know, if shit goes sideways in Las Vegas, Arabella will be placed in Killian’s care. He’s got safehouses all over the world, money and supplies stashed in each of them. And he saves his violence for men, women turn him into a kitten.”
For one second, surprise lights Mason’s gaze. Then he leans closer as he says in a voice just above a whisper. “Your father a piece of shit too?”
Are we bonding? “You have no idea.”
One corner of his mouth tips up. “I might. A bit.”
Maybe he does. I’ve heard the details of his father’s death and the events that led to it.
Mason and Jake leave, and I turn to go as well. If I hurry, I might be able to stop Chloe before she even gets on the plane.
But Triston’s voice stops me. “Killian. Wait.”
I shake out my shoulders. “What is it, Triston? I’m about meeting’d out.”
He chuckles. “I’ve got something for you.”
I turn with a question, wondering if I should be worried. But he pulls a canvas out from behind the table in the corner. I cock my head, but before he gives it to me, Ryker clears his throat. “Killian?”
I look at my other brother, something in his tone making the hair on the back of my neck stand. “Yeah?”
Ryker’s mouth twitches. “I…I wondered what you meant about the comment about our father.”
I shrug. This is not something I plan to discuss. I never have and I doubt I ever will.
But his demeanor makes me pause. His head is bent as he rubs at the back of his neck. “I’ve wondered…” he stops, lifting his head so that our eyes meet. “…if you knew the truth.”