“Shane.” I pause, but do not turn as he adds, “Everything is not black and white, son. If you want to defeat those walking in the gray, you have to go there with them.”

He’s so beyond the gray, it’s laughable, and with this budding cartel connection, I’m certain he’s involved with, it’s more like black sludge. He will never repent his sins, and I’m done trying to convince him to change, let alone, convince myself he’s really on the sidelines. I’m not just at war with my brother. I’m at war with my father.

I turn the knob and exit the office, immediately aware of Emily at her desk. “Is he okay?” she asks.

“He’s himself,” I say, continuing on to the lobby, away from my father and away from Emily. I can’t see her right now. Not with my family gutting me, and her pushing me away, no matter how smart she was for doing it. Because one touch from that woman, and I’ll be selfish enough to fuck her until she forgets why she left that coffee shop without me. I know whatever she’s running from can’t be as lethal as the Brandons and the Martinas forming a partnership.

Passing through the lobby, I exit the offices and walk directly to the elevator bank, punching the call button. “Shane.”

Emily’s voice carries from the office doorway, radiating through me like silk and sandpaper and I do not look at her. The elevator doors open and I grind out, “Not now, Ms. Stevens,” stepping into the elevator and leaving her behind. Inside, I face forward—and fuck me—she’s standing in front of me.

“Shane.”

My name is a plea on her lips and I have just enough time to get lost in her big, gorgeous blue eyes and her wounded expression before the doors shut between us. And somehow, some way, I remain aware of the cameras and don’t react. I stand there like stone, waiting for the car to reach the garage, my mood throwing rocks around inside me. From one nerve to the next, I am bruised and beaten when the elevator finally jolts to a stop.

I step forward, a steel barrier preventing the escape I’m once again impatient to make. I’m on edge, in need of an outlet that allows me control. I need to run ten miles or fuck this hellish rage of emotions out of my system, but the only one that sounds right to do that with is Emily. Just Emily, who has come into my life and turned it a little more upside down. Finally the doors part, and I step outside to find Derek once again making an odd late-night return to the building. And once again, we meet in the middle of the garage.

“Ah, baby brother,” he begins, reaching up to loosen his tie. “All these long hours and all for naught.”

“Not now, Derek,” I snap.

He narrows his gaze on me, his attention sharpening, and he seems to sense the foreboding in the air. “What is it?”

“The cancer has moved to his lungs. He’s coughing up blood.”

He inhales slowly, seeming resigned in his reaction. “Translate that to an outcome.”

“He won’t say much and he hasn’t told Mom at all. Chemo starts Monday. That’s all I was able to pry out of him.”

“How do you know he’s coughing up blood?”

“I saw it,” I say, not about to bring Emily into this. “Which is why he had to tell me.”

“Holy fuck,” he curses, running a hand through his hair, and gives me his back, his face tilted toward the ceiling, struggling with the news that our father might pretend he doesn’t have cancer, but he indeed does.

Seconds tick by and he faces me, laughing without humor, and scrubbing his jaw. “How can I hate that man so much and be gutted by the idea of him dying?”

“How can you hate him and want to be him, Derek?” I demand, the question setting me off. “Look at yourself. Look at what—”

He lets out a low growl and shoves me against the wall, concrete grinding against my back, his hands clutching my jacket. “You fucking bastard,” he hisses. “Shut up. Shut the fuck up. I am not him.”

“Right,” I say dryly, my hands balled by my sides, his anger muting mine, driving me into courtroom mode. “And the sun doesn’t come up every morning.”

“I am not him,” he bites out again, a charge barely contained just beneath his surface.

“No,” I say, and not ready to tell him I know about the cartel, I settle on, “You’re headed to much darker places and we both know it. Translation. Dead or in jail, and one of those has no return.”

He glares at me, his emotions pushing against mine, wanting a reaction, but it’s in moments like these, when someone else loses it, that I excel and win. “What now, Derek?” I challenge softly.

“What indeed,” he replies softly, his voice practically vibrating, before he abruptly releases me, putting several steps between us. “Wherever I go,” he says, tugging his jacket straight, “if you stay here, you’re going with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere, brother, and mark my words, I’m not following you where you’re headed, nor is this company.”

His lips twist and he lets out a tight rasp of laughter. “You amuse me, brother. If our father dies tomorrow, I have the vote, and you’ll be gone. And I’ll do anything to make sure I keep that vote. Anything. And we both know you don’t have the backbone to stop me.”

He heads back to his car, and I’m not sure, but I think he just told me that he’d kill our father to ensure that vote happens when he wants it to happen. Or maybe he meant he’d kill me. I have no idea who Derek is at this point. He’s damn sure not the brother I grew up idolizing. I’m halfway to my car when he speeds past me. I stop and stare after him, and the whirlwind of emotions I can’t even name, which I’ve been suppressing not just today, but this whole damn year, begin a slow boil. I need the hell out of here. I need everything I can’t have.