Prologue
The pop went off—a sharp, loud smack that had Dominic McCarthy turning. He saw the guy with the gun and blinked.
What the hell?
Before he could think anything else, the guy lifted the gun and shot three more times. Two hard thumps pounded Dominic’s chest. He stumbled back and glanced down. Blue blots spread out across his chest, staining the white silk of his shirt. Security jumped the guy with the gun—paint gun, Dominic thought, touching the blue.
“Capitalist pig! You’re destroying this county with your greed. We don’t need a goddamn dam flooding our town—we need jobs. Real jobs! We used to have those before you assholes came in here and bought out the honest businessmen!” Security pushed the guy to the floor and cuffed him. Dominic’s security staff were already surrounding him. He pushed them back and strode up to the man.
Scruffy, in faded jeans with a two-day beard and bloodshot eyes, the guy reeked of urine and stale whiskey. His hair hung down, lank and dark hair, and his dark eyes glinted with hate. Dominic smoothed his tie and asked, “What if I gave you a job?”
The man spat at Dominic’s feet. “Keep your damn bribe. I’m not crazy, and yeah, I’ll be in jail. But someone needs to get your attention. This used to be a great town to live in. I raised two kids here. My dad built the house I had. Now…now you get to buy another goddamn jet and put money in the bank and the rest of us can go on Welfare, if we’re lucky.”
“There’s a relocation program—”
The man’s laugh—sharp and edge with desperation cut off Dominic’s words. “Relocation? God, do you even read your own propaganda? You’re not handing out enough to move to anywhere where there is a job! When was the last time you bought a loaf of bread? Have you ever tried to keep two growing kids in shoes? You jerk—you asshole! You’re another damn corporate tool, and we should have known that the second we heard the name McCarthy!”
Dominic stiffened. “I think you’re mistaking me for my father.”
“From where I stand, one McCarthy is as bad as the next.”
Turning away, Dominic started for the door. He kept his hands at his sides so no one would see them shaking. He also kept his lips pressed tight. It wasn’t fear that had his heart thudding—it was a bone-deep anger. He was not his father. He never would be. He glanced to the side and caught a glimpse of his profile in the floor-length windows of the former car dealership that had held the press conference. Patrician nose, flat dark eyebrows, black hair a little shaggy now but just starting to starting to gray. A Black-Irish face with a hint of roughness now in his jaw line. Dammit—he looked just like his father.
Dominic slammed into the waiting limo and sat stiff, his hands fisted the entire ride back to his hotel. He climbed the stairs and slammed into his room. One aide opened a Pellegrino for him, another opened a leather binder and asked, “Do you want to skip the ribbon cutting?”
“After this morning, hell yes, we’ll skip it.” Dominic loosened his tie. “And forget the water—get me a whisky.” The aide—a slim girl who didn’t look old enough to be out of high school—blushed, set aside the water and hurried back to the mini-bar. Dominic shook his head. “No, not that crap. See if anyone has any Macallan.”
The aides hurried away, and Dominic sank onto the sofa. Thankfully, Zach Collins came in. Dominic had known Zach for years—they’d done business together, and Zach had warned him about this venture.
“Come to gloat and say I told you so?” Dominic asked.
Zach gave the aides a sideways glance as they hurried out, and then came over to stand in front of Dominic, hands in his pockets and his tie askew as always. Dominic knew Zach preferred cowboy hat and boots to suits. He was also a settled married man now. Zach shook his head. “You really wowed the locals. The press are now ready to pounce on you as soon as you show your face.”
Groaning, Dominic leaned forward and rubbed his face. “Terrific. Just what I need. When did business stop being simple, Zach?”
“Hey, you buy up a town, that’s news. Bigger news when some local tries to paint ball you to death. You do know, buddy, next time it could be real bullets.”
Sitting up, Dominic shook his head. “So I’m supposed to go into hiding?”
Zach sh
rugged and pulled his tie even looser.
Dominic strode over to the window. Second floor was the highest up they had in this hick town. He glared out at the pavement, the rickety houses, and the faded signs. The place looked deserted. Except for the news media vans. He turned back to Zach. “How much is a loaf of bread these days?”
“If you have to ask, you can’t afford it.”
“Zach, I bought the damn town.”
Zach spread his hands out. “That was a joke. And now you’re going to give me the list? How many jets, houses, cars…girls? You forget I know you from way back.”
“And you’re so damn unlike me?”
Zach held up a hand. His wedding ring glinted on his finger. “I didn’t say it.”
Glancing out the window again, Dominic put a hand against the cold glass. “My dad threw me out when I was sixteen.”
“Yeah, I know the story. Told you to make your own way and you did.”
Turning, Dominic managed a smile. “I swore I wasn’t going to be like that bastard.”