Own My Soul (Sixty Days 3)

There would be no reason strong enough. Not for Drake. Not with clients, and profit, and a truckload of schedules nailed down.

“This isn’t going to end well,” I told him, and he grunted.

“So it would seem.”

“I’m not going to let this happen,” I told him. “Take that whichever way you fucking want, but nothing is going to temper my backlash when it comes to this one.”

“And nothing will temper mine in response,” he hissed. “Take that whichever way you fucking want.”

“Send Paige back,” I finished. “Send her back before this whole fucking venture goes up in smoke.”

“Back the fuck down and get your muddled brain back functional before you go up in fucking smoke,” he spat, and with that the line went dead.

It was as I slammed the phone back in my pocket that Eric appeared in the porch doorway, the towel removed from his temple. The light from the hallway was enough to see the crusted blood in his hair, but he was steadier on his feet this time around. Considerably steadier. I had nothing I wanted to say to him and just made to brush past him without a word, but he gripped my arm tight before I crossed the threshold.

“It’s time we talked,” he said, and our eyes met hard.

“We’ve nothing to talk about,” I snapped. “None of your business, just me and Drake ironing out ours.”

“And that’s it?” he replied, leaning back against the doorframe like a man done with the whole sorry lot of it. “It really is my fucking business. Has been for too long now to cast off as nothing. Seriously, Bran, you wanna bring me into this picture and fast. If I’m gonna get smashed across the head for the sake of your fucking shit storm the least you can do is fill me in on what the hell for.”

“You don’t want in,” I insisted. “Believe me, you don’t want anything in this shit storm.”

“This is about the Emmerson girl,” he said. “Are you really that messed up about her? Is she really enough to drive you pissing crazy?”

“Like I said,” I repeated. “You really don’t want in on this.”

“Oh, but I do,” he said, and there was the very slightest twinkle of something ripe and fucking deep in his eye. “Because the way I see it, only one of you and Drake are coming out of this picture, especially with any kind of control over the business. That makes me want in on this a shit load.”

I didn’t respond to his observation, just waited for him to continue.

“And if that someone who comes out of this is gonna be you, Bran, you’re gonna need some fucking help, and if I’m gonna fucking help you, I think that’ll lead to some differences in how we work on shit going forward, right?”

“You’re flashing the bargaining chips?” I asked, with an eyebrow raised. “You’re coming to me in the aftermath of taking a real fucking battering and using the opportunity to slam your cards right on the table?”

“That’s right,” he said. “I’m putting my cards on the table. I want to work out what the hell I’m doing in this mess and what the hell my cards are worth right now and I’m damn well ready to look at yours.”

I couldn’t hold back the smirk of surprise. Not even in the shit hole of a shit storm could I contain my amusement.

“You’re offering your services on my side of the table, are you? You on team Grant taking on Drake and his bullshit along with me?”

His shrug was typical Eric. His expression was typical in for the ride.

“Hell yeah,” he said. “I’m on team Grant, just so long as team Grant’s worth it from here on in.”

And right there and then, for another first in my adult life, I felt the solidarity of a brother alongside me, even if it was for his own ends. I felt the first genuinely compelling urge to lay my own cards flat out on the table. Weird, but fucking true.

Still, nothing amiss in facing off the opposition with at least one accomplice alongside me.

“Alright,” I said, and Eric’s eyes widened in shock, just like they should do as I slapped my hand on his shoulder and gestured him inside. “Let’s get team Grant briefed the hell up, shall we?”Chapter FivePaigeMy body clock was far beyond anything rational. I had no idea what time it was as I drifted in half sleep next to Rebecca Lane hour after hour. I was exhausted, but wired tight. Scared, but desperate for more answers. So I dozed. Tossed and turned and battled demons. Shimmied and shifted and prayed for peace which didn’t come.

My belly was a pit of worried snakes, and I’m sure Rebecca’s was too, but she must have been more than exhausted as she slept soundly alongside me.