Page 49 of Broken Brothers

“Sucks to be you,” I said with a smirk. “Guess I’ll just make my own money with my name.”

“Hah!” Morgan chuckled. “Well, I suppose if anyone could do it… it would almost be you. But no one is as good as Morgan Hunt.”

“At getting their ass kicked, maybe,” I said. “You have money and I don’t, that’s the only difference.”

“The only?” Morgan said. “You know how much I would kill to do without the family business that money wouldn’t matter in? Travel, romance, learning… the list is endless. What about for you?”

What about for me?

Well, I’d like to heal my heart someday.

I’d like to find myself, to understand myself, and not feel so defined by the name Hunt.

And I’d like to be successful on my own terms.

But out loud, for now, there was only one way to define it.

“Simple,” I said. “Make money. That’s my dream. Every last bit of it.”

21

Igotta lay off the booze. Fuck.

My eyes slowly fluttered open as the feeling of having drunk too much the night before hit me hard. Not even 24 hours had passed since I’d walked out of Burnson Investments for good, and Morgan had needed no prodding to join me.

But just as I had the week before, my defense against blackouts had ended, as I couldn’t remember much after taking a shot at the bar with Morgan and two random brunette girls.

I looked to my right and saw one of the girls in a state of undress, an unfinished beer on the desk next to her.Well, at least I had a good night somehow,I thought as I rolled over to the other side.

There, in what can only be described as completely unexpected, was a stack of a few thousand dollars. It was too well placed to have been accidental, and there was no way I could have put it here myself.

I sat up, confused. I looked to the corner of the hotel room.

There, in the corner, sat Morgan, his hand resting on his chin, staring at me. I could not pin his expression for the lifeof me—it was a little unnerving, but by the same token, Morgan knew what kind of a state I was in. He wasn’t about to do anything to hurt me.

“How are you feeling, Chance?” he said, more curious than leading.

I groaned as I let my head hit the pillow.

“What the hell just happened?”

Chance let out a soft laugh, as if worried about waking up the girl to my left.

“Oh, that’s quite the story. And it’s just getting started, Chance Hunt. It’s just getting started.”

22

Ilooked down at my email, reading the latest business proposal from Morgan as I stood in line at the local sandwich shop, grabbing the sandwich that provided the most calories for the best price.

Hey, a deal was a deal. If I was going to make this work, I couldn’t be eating steak every night. I couldn’t be eating at fancy restaurants. I couldn’t be ordering delivery and paying the extra fees.

I had to look like I was fighting for every scrap and every penny, even as Morgan ensured that I had a $10,000 deposit in my account at the beginning of every month.

The funny thing was, while Morgan had made it sound like some sort of impossible, difficult task, it was relatively easy for me. It felt far more natural to be poor—or at least eat poor—than it had to live the wealthy lifestyle the Hunts so enjoyed. I had come from poverty, even if I could barely remember it, and those memories were imprinted hard on me.

In some ways… well, I wasn’t going to say it was easier than being rich, that would be disingenuous. I certainly didn’t have to think about it as much.

Two days had passed since Morgan had given me the offer. In the moment, we had agreed with a handshake, if not a full contract. Then, bless his heart, a trade happened—Morgan walked out the door, let Stephanie and the other girl whose name I couldn’t remember walk back in, and sexy times ensued. Oh, let me tell you, that may have been the best deal Morgan ever gave me.