Page 21 of Dirty Legacy

“I just did. And Mom would’ve if you hadn’t run away from her.”

“Good point.” I get up with a groan.

“You sound like an old man.”

“I am an old man.”

“You’re thirty-five.” She squints at me. “Yep, ancient.”

“Later, little sister. I’d better deal with Deck before he burns the house down.”

“Dad’s more likely to do that. Close the door, asshole!”

I leave it open, humming to myself, as Rowan calls a few choice insults after me. The door slams a second later as I’m descending back to the first floor, going as quiet as I can to avoid attention⁠—

“iPhone, Connor!” Danielle shouts at me as soon as I hit the landing. “Look at this thing. Look at it!” She shakes her old phone at me. The screen is cracked on both sides. “I’m begging you. The glass is cutting my fingers!”

“Scroll TikTok less.”

“I can’t. It’s an addiction and it’s not my fault. Big tech is ruining my life!”

“Then we’d better not reward them by buying another one.”

“Connor!”

I wave her off. “Buy it yourself and I’ll reimburse you. Just get out of here.”

“THANK YOU. You’re my most favorite stepson.”

“I’m your only stepson and you hate me.”

Seeing Rowan always puts me in a better mood, but dealing with Danielle always makes it worse, so the two about balance each other out. I storm into Dad’s office, kick the door closed behind me, and pour an extra-large bourbon, ignoring the big man lurking on the couch against the far wall with his boots up on my father’s coffee table.

“You kept me waiting.” Deck grunts at me, hunched with his elbows on his knees. He’s my cousin, in his early forties, with a gruff stare. His clothes are pristine and his back stays straight. He turns down my offer of a drink. “You know we had a meeting, right?”

I swallow a curse by downing more bourbon. “I’d never forget about my favorite lieutenant.”

He grunts and lifts a folder he’d kept hidden on the couch next to him. “We need to talk numbers.”

“It’s always numbers with you.”

“Knowing our business is why we’re successful. Sit down, this won’t be long.”

“Better not be. You know, you and my future wife would get along well. You’re almost as organized as she is.”

His eyes settle on me. “You ready to talk?”

“Yeah, Deck, I’m ready, only trying to have some casual banter first.”

“Not interested.” He flips to the front page and turns it to face me. “You got payroll decisions to make.”

What follows lasts approximately one hour, two bourbons, and more than a few targeted curses. If Marcus is my ideas man, then Deck’s the one who gets it all done. He’s ruthlessly efficient and keeps the operation ticking over, but he’s also stuck in the old ways and stubborn as hell. It’s always a struggle keeping him from blowing shit up because it’s not properly formatted.

Still, he’s right to keep me on track. I’ve been distracted lately. Between Angie and Sinead, I’ve had a lot on my mind, and I’ve been able to zone out thanks to having men like Deck behind the scenes. I’ll show my appreciation another time, but for now, I’m relieved when he packs up and leaves me sitting behind my father’s desk, exhausted and trying not to think about Angie.

My father slips into the room. He gets himself a drink and lowers himself down in the same spot where Deck had been, but he doesn’t say a word. My old man’s in a button-down shirt, top two buttons undone, a gold chain around his neck. He’s heavyset, thick but not fat, face always an unnerving shade of red. Gray’s streaked in his thick, black hair. We drink in silence for a few minutes. It’s a rare down moment and I soak it in, but I can’t seem to keep my mind still for more than a few seconds at a time.

“Let me ask you something,” I say and he looks over, his bushy brows lifted. “How’d you do it twice?”