My office was freezing. Every part of my body felt frozen, too, as I sat behind my desk and tried to start my day. My fingers shook when I placed them over the keyboard, and my toes felt the chill even through my shoes.

“Mornin’,” Samson said, pushing open the door and collapsing into a chair.

“Why is it so fucking cold in here?” I demanded.

“You know they jack up the AC over the weekend.” Samson shrugged. “It’s supposed to help with electricity costs, though I don’t know why.”

“It’s bullshit,” I muttered, still trying to warm up enough to type.

“You’re in a great mood today.” Samson laughed. “Was the rest of the weekend that bad?”

“No,” I said. “It was great. Mila and I spent yesterday watching movies.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Samson said wistfully. “I spent the day puking.”

“The universe’s way of calling you on your shit,” I said.

“The universe is proud of me for getting laid,” Samson said simply.

“How is your little peach?” I asked.

“Stacy’s amazing,” Samson said. “She left before I woke up. Perfect woman.”

“It’s too cold in here for me to care about your exploits right now.”

“Fair enough,” Samson said. “We have to meet Barry anyway.”

“Is that today?” I asked. My eyes snapped up to meet Samson’s.

“We’re supposed to be in the conference room in ten minutes,” Samson said. “You forget?”

“Obviously.” I groaned and pushed myself away from the desk. “Let’s go.”

Samson followed me out of the office and pulled the door closed behind him. We walked briskly toward the elevator and stepped inside.

“You think he found anything this time?” Samson asked.

“We’ll know when we get down there,” I said. “But, it doesn’t matter. I’m pretty sure Frank’s going to sell within the month.”

“Did he call?” Samson asked.

“Not yet.” I shrugged. “But, he will.”

“Here’s hoping you’re wrong.”

I ignored him. The doors opened. We stepped out of the elevator as a few people stepped on. I nodded at the ones I recognized. They all smiled and stepped around us as we carved a path toward the conference room.

While we walked, people called out greetings and plastered fake smiles on their faces. I tried to smile back, but I hated every minute of it. Being at the office felt like torture to me. I preferred to be out on the road, searching for properties and doing something active.

“Good morning,” Barry said when we reached the conference room. “Is your mom joining us today?”

“No,” Samson said. “Mom and Jeff are still in Bermuda. It’s just us today.”

“Great,” Barry said. I could sense the relief in his tone. “Take a seat.”

Samson and I sat in our usual chairs and waited for Barry’s latest rundown. I let myself zone out slightly. I already knew where our next purchase would come from. Frank might have been proud, but I saw right through his bravado. He was scared. It was only a matter of time before his dwindling bank account overpowered his sense of pride.

“What you got?” Samson asked, getting comfortable and turning his full attention to Barry.

“Not much,” Barry said with a sigh. “It’s slow out there right now.”

“Great.” I groaned. “Can we go then?”

“Declan,” Samson warned.

“What?” I asked. “Barry knows I hate wasted time.”

“It’s not wasted,” Barry said quickly. “I don’t have much, but there is one place that’s promising.”

“Oh?” Samson asked. He didn’t really care. He hated buying out businesses, but he didn’t want me to be rude to Barry.

“It’s a motorcycle repair shop on the outskirts of town,” Barry said. “Tanner Bikes. You heard of it?”

I shook my head, but Samson sat up straighter.

“Over on Hudson?” he asked with interest. “Tiny place tucked away behind that old warehouse?”

“That’s the one,” Barry said with a smile.

“I’ve been there,” Samson said. “My bike broke down on my way out of town three years ago. They were great. Gave me a huge discount just because they liked me.”

“Probably why the business is now folding,” I said.

“Probably,” Barry said sadly. “They’ve been tanking for a while.”

“Well, shit,” Samson said. “Why? What happened?”

“I’m not sure exactly,” Barry said. “All I know is that the last few months have been especially rough. Their bank statements are terrible. They’ve barely scraped enough together to make rent and they’re behind on payments to the bank. It’s bad, but so far, they haven’t broached the topic of selling.”

“They never do,” I said. “Not until the last possible second.”

“Well,” Barry said. “Whatever their reasons are, they seem determined. I haven’t met the owner, but I did ask around. She is hell-bent on pulling the place out of ruin. She’s determined, but -”

“But?” Samson asked.

“I’ve run the numbers,” Barry said. “I don’t see how they could possibly balance their books. Not without some help.”

“That sucks.” Samson shook his head. “I really liked that place.”

He stared at the conference room wall with a deep frown etched on his face. I shook my head and grabbed the file Barry brought with him. While Samson lamented over the loss of a shop he’d visited only once, I flipped through the documents and tried to assess whether Tanner Bikes was worth our time.

“What if we kept it?” Samson asked suddenly.

“What?” I blinked and looked up at him.

“We could buy it and just keep it,” Samson said. “Get the books balanced, fix the place up, and reopen it ourselves. Hell, we could even keep the owner chick on to run the place.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” I said.

“It’s a great property,” Barry said. “The only problem is they’re off the beaten path. Unless you know the shop is there, you’d never find it. What they really need is a sign on the main road or at least a stronger internet presence. Something.”

“Have they thought about more advertising?” I asked.

Barry nodded. “Can’t afford it,” he said. “They have nothing extra. Nothing.”

“What do you think?” Samson asked, his eyes boring into mine.

I looked at my little brother. He was excited. More excited than I’d ever seen him when talking about work. Samson worked at Gamble Realty for two reasons, money and loyalty. He, like me, never wanted to run the family business but he, like me, was sucked in.

Neither of us loved the work, but Samson flat-out hated it. He was too emotional for the cutthroat side of things. If it were up to him, someone else would handle the buying, and he would just take care of the resale. However, our father made it clear that we were both to participate in every aspect of the company. It was his way of maintaining control over his sons even after his death.

As I looked at my brother’s face, I didn’t want to disappoint him. He loved the idea of buying the bike repair shop, and I knew exactly why. Samson always wanted to own a small company, something easier to manage and much less intrusive. The idea of owning a repair shop was too good for Samson to pass up. Still, I had my doubts.

“You don’t think it would work,” Samson said, a defeated tone in his voice.

“It’s not that,” I said.

“Then, what?” he asked.

“You’ll be hard-pressed to convince the board to let you keep it,” I said simply.

“But, we could convince them together,” Samson said. “Or, we could even buy it ourselves. With our trusts.”

“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” I said quickly. “I haven’t even agreed to see the property.”

“But you want to.”

Samson’s words were simple, blunt. He knew me as well as I knew him, and he was right. I wanted to check out the repair shop, but I didn’t want to get his hopes up. It probably wouldn’t be worth the risk of buying it. If the location was bad and the property was run down, we could lose money on the resale.

“Don’t you miss riding?” Samson asked. “Before Mila, you used to ride all the time.”

“That was years ago,” I said.

“But, you loved it,” Samson said. “If we bought the place, you could get back into it.”

“Again, you’re too far ahead of yourself.”

“Fine,” Samson said. “Then, let’s just go see it. Can you agree to that?”

“We need to stop by Frank’s again,” I said evasively. “If we don’t pester him, we’ll lose our chance of buying him out.”

“You just said that Frank was a sure deal,” Samson said.

“He is, all right? But that doesn’t mean we can take our foot off the gas. That restaurant will be a hell of a resale. You saw the potential it has. With a renovation and proper marketing, we could make well over a mil.”

“That’s insane,” Samson said, shaking his head. “No way it goes for that much.”

“It’s a prime tourist location,” I said. “Hell of a lot better than a beaten down repair shop on Hudson.”

“You haven’t even seen it!”

I sighed and looked at Barry. He was watching our argument like a game of tennis. When our eyes met, he got the message and immediately began to gather his things.

“Listen,” he said. “You guys talk it over and call me. I’ll be in touch if I find anything else.”

“Thanks, Barry.” Samson nodded and tried to smile, but his frown returned as soon as Barry stepped outside.

“Why does this place mean so much to you?” I asked.

“It’s not that,” Samson said. “I just think it’s a great opportunity. Come on, don’t you agree?”

“No,” I said. “I don’t.”

“You don’t think it could be profitable?” Samson asked.

“Maybe,” I admitted.

“Then, let’s just go see it,” Samson said. “I’ll go alone if you want.”

I could see that Samson wasn’t going to back down, so I flipped open the file again and scanned the documents inside.

He wasn’t completely wrong. While I didn’t think keeping the building was a smart move, buying it certainly would be. If we poured money into a serious renovation, then we could definitely turn some kind of profit.

“I don’t want you to get your hopes up,” I said. “I know you. You’re already dreaming about running a bike shop, hanging out with your customers, shooting the shit… I can see it all over your face.”

“Let me worry about myself,” Samson snapped. “It’s business, not personal, remember?”

He glared at me, and I fell silent. I hated him for being right and, even worse, for using my own words against me.

“Just try to stay objective, all right?” I said. “Don’t fall in love with the place too quickly.”

“I’m an adult, Declan,” Samson said. “You don’t have to baby me.”

“Don’t I?” I teased.

“Fuck off.”

Samson glared at me, but I knew the fight was over. All he wanted was for me to agree, which I did. We spent a few minutes going over the file together before deciding on a time to visit the property.

“You think the owner will sell?” Samson asked.

“I won’t know until we meet her,” I said. “But, if it’s as bad as Barry says, then yes. She’ll have to.”

Samson nodded and followed me back upstairs to my office. He had his own, but he preferred to work in mine.

“Want me to call Frank?” Samson asked. “Press him a little?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I got it.”

“I can handle it,” Samson said defensively.

“I got it,” I said again, firmer this time.

Samson just shrugged and got to work. He thought I was trying to take control, but really, I just wanted to protect him. He hated being the bad guy, but me? I was great at it.