The Empire (Filthy Trilogy 3)

“So you do know details of my attack?” Harper challenges.

He ignores her. “Those attacks were a message to you and me. Fix this or else our people will get hurt. I’m not making this shit up.”

Which means he’s making at least some of this shit up.

“Be smart,” he says. “Aren’t you a genius?”

“It doesn’t take a genius to stay away from this,” I say.

“Your woman and your father were both attacked,” he snaps, his foot tapping under the table, a nervous tic he’s favored all his life, at least since I’ve known him. “Ignoring that sounds pretty fucking stupid to me.”

“How much do you owe?” Harper asks.

“Yes, how much do you owe, brother?”

“Five million.”

Harper gasps. I laugh. “I’ll make sure you get a really snazzy casket when the time comes.”

“Give me a stock tip,” Isaac urges. “One that gets me the money to pay this debt off. Then it’s not your money. Like you did for dad that time.”

He says that statement with absolute disgust, as if that action I took has been rubbed in his face over and over. Without a doubt, it has, and I get it. Dad sucks that way. He used me to abuse him, but holy fuck, he deserves to be abused. “No,” I say simply.

“You’re a stockholder now,” he reminds me. “You think they won’t come for you?”

“I could offer my

stock to the mob,” I suggest sardonically. “Will that work for you?”

He leans forward, fingers curled in his palms, fists ready to lash out. “This is not a fucking game.”

I consider him a moment, his eyes all but bulging with anger, a muscle in his jaw ticking. A look he wears often. A look I know well. It’s called busted. “You’re lying,” I say. “There’s more to the story and until you tell me everything, you’re on your own.”

“You’re a fool who’s going to regret this,” Isaac snaps. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” And with that threat, he starts to get up.

“What was dad going to tell me when you had him poisoned?” I ask. “What don’t you want me to know?”

He twists back around to face me, his eyes burning into mine. “If I was going to poison anyone, it would be you.”

“You’ll never get that stock tip if I’m dead, brother.”

His eyes glint and then he looks at Harper, his eyes lingering on her a moment before he returns his attention to me and says, “You’re going to help me, Eric. You just don’t know it yet.” He gets up to leave.

I read the message loud and clear. I stand and step in front of him. “Do not push me, Isaac,” I say, my voice low, lethal. “If anything happens to Harper, I will strip you down to your underwear financially and stick you in a corner with your thumb in your mouth. Now, I suggest you leave before I decide to act on my fantasies right now, and they aren’t nearly as kinky as they are bloody.” I step aside.

He smirks. “For a smart guy, you’re just as fucking stupid as ever and I predict you’ll agree with me sooner rather than later.” He starts walking away and it’s all I can do not to yank him back, take him to the bathroom and beat answers out of him. And I might’ve done just that if Harper didn’t step in front of me, hands on my chest.

“Whatever you want to do right now,” she says, “kiss me instead.”

I might just do that, kiss her right here in the middle of the diner, drive away all the demons my brother represents with the sweet taste of her, but we’re not alone. Savage steps behind her, a grim look on his face that says he has news. And it’s not good.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Eric

Harper must follow my stare over her shoulder because she twists around. “Savage,” she gasps, and I know why. Aside from his presence being unexpected, he’s a big, unexpected surprise, with a deep scar down his cheek, but he also has a bruise the size of Texas covering one eye. “What happened to your eye?” she demands, somehow managing to be accusing and worried, a hint of urgency to her tone that tells a story. She’s afraid whatever hit him, is about to blast our way.

So the fuck am I.