Chapter 50
Grant
As they sat down to dinner, Grant’s spot was with his back facing the window. He felt his adrenaline surge, and he tried to calm himself down.
Probably trying to lighten the mood, Adam Davenport asked Jack, “How are your sons?”
“Still no medals,” Walter said nastily.
Grant wondered what was wrong between the two brothers. Why were they picking at each other? Was it really over the company or his dead siblings, or was it something else? He hadn’t grown up with siblings, so he didn’t really understand.
“Don’t be so hard on them,” Nathaniel Fitzhugh told him. “They’re good boys. You should see my younger two sons. They’re off terrorizing Europe. I wish they were as grounded as the Holbrook boys.”
“They’re wasting their lives. They’re going to end up just like Jack if we aren’t careful,” Walter said with a mean laugh.
Jack picked up his half-empty glass and threw it at Walter, narrowly grazing his temple. The women screamed.
“Stop it,” Nancy hissed, but the two brothers ignored her.
“At least I didn’t marry some sociopath,” Jack yelled. “And I didn’t abandon my children!”
Walter threw his plate at Jack and caught him in the chest. Jack snarled at him. “It’s your fault those children are dead. You are a terrible father. Just look at him.” Jack pointed at Grant.
“You have no right to say anything about my children!” Walter yelled, slamming his hands on the table and making the place settings shake.
“I’m only telling the truth. Grant is getting thugs, mobsters, and murderers to buy Holbrook products and services. That’s who you brought here. He’s as bad as Danielle—you can’t fight breeding. Did you even look into what he was doing in Afghanistan? Do you know why the defense industry is clamoring to work with him? Because he executed people. He executed two captured fighters—”
“Terrorists,” Grant said darkly, not looking at anyone. “They killed one of my friends. They deserved to die for it.”
“You see?” Jack yelled. “He’s a sociopath who kills people when it suits his ends. Just. Like. Danielle.” Breathing hard, Jack grabbed his napkin and started wiping off his shirt. Then he gave Walter a scathing look. “And you want to give him access to your company,” Jack said, shaking his head. “You should have put a bullet in his head.”
“Jack,” Nancy said through her teeth, “that is enough.”
Grant couldn’t take any more. He pushed back his chair so quickly it toppled over, and he made a quick retreat out of the dining room.
“Grant!” Kate called, running after him.
“Don’t,” he snapped at her. “You’re just trying to fuck with me exactly like everyone else here. You don’t want anything to do with me? Fine! I don’t want anything to do with you, either.”
He picked his coat up from the side room and hurried through the front door into the night. He walked around for a little bit, trying to cool off.
Who does Jack think he is? Grant muttered, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets.
His hand brushed against a folded piece of paper. It was a note.
Tonight on Seagull lane. 10.30
Grant had a feeling he knew who had sent it. He went back to the house to change and add more weapons to his arsenal in anticipation of the meeting.
“Are you okay?” Nancy asked him when she saw him.
“I’m fine,” he said, brushing her off. “I’m going for a run now that it’s cooler.” He left his corgi sprawled on the chilled stone of the covered porch and set off.
As Grant waited on Seagull Lane at the appointed time, a car pulled up alongside him. His heart jumped in his chest, but he forced himself to be calm. He peered through the window and saw three figures in the car. Luigi exited the vehicle, came around the other side, and opened the door. Grant’s birth mother stepped out.
“My baby,” she said, holding out her arms. He stepped back.
“I don’t need a mother,” he said harshly. “I already have a crappy adoptive mom. I don’t need a crazy birth mom as well.”
“All right,” she said, her whole demeanor changing.
“What do you want?” he asked coldly.
“I only want to become acquainted with my only living son. Isn’t a mother entitled to that?” she asked, batting her eyelashes at him.
“Cut the shit,” he said, not falling for her innocent act.
She straightened her clothing and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “We can help each other.”
“I don’t need your help,” he said
“Ah, but you do!” she said with a laugh. “You should be running Holbrook Enterprises, and I can help you.”
Grant barked a laugh. “I’m doing just fine on my own. I’m not going to be your pawn.”
“You’re a pawn to your father,” she spat.
“At least he has something to offer,” Grant countered.
“And I don’t?” she asked, pretending to pout.
Grant looked at her expectantly.
She smiled at him. Grant wondered what his father had seen in Danielle. She reminded him of all the trashy girls that hung out around the base.
“I think I do actually have something you want,” she said. “I have contacts in East Africa. You want to impress your father and take control of Holbrook Enterprises? You need to compete with the Chinese. I know of a deal going down. I can slip your name in there.”
“What’s in it for you?” Grant asked, intrigued despite the nagging voice in his head that said this was a terrible idea.
“Money and time,” she said to Grant.
“No deal until I see what you can do,” Grant told her.
Danielle gave him a triumphant look. It felt as if he was making the same mistake as his father—dealing with the devil herself. But he needed to prove himself. He needed to be the top dog so Kate had no excuses. He needed to show everyone he was worthy and that he had a right to be in his father’s world.
“I’m listening,” Grant said.