Page 42 of Rough Start

He’d spent the last six years building the perfect empire. He now oversaw the command of six private planes, five compounds in New England, and countless employees and personal staff. Leaving the majority of his ethical business dealings to the Brilliant Defiance board of directors, he was free to handle the shipping of contraband from the UK to the States and vice versa.

In the last years, Max had been forced to take a less hands-on approach to the club due to his dwindling health. This left room for a near takeover on Kye’s part. He was close. Very close. However, these next few months would be delicate.

With the growth of the club to just under twelve chapters, a complete transition of power would need to come with a Vote of Confidence. If Kye didn’t receive Max’s blessing to take over completely, any number of the inner circle could cry foul, and they’d once again be faced with a rebellion the likes of which would split the empire, and it would likely crumble completely.

Max had made sure of this. Learning from his past mistakes, he insisted on inserting himself into every aspect of the club. If he didn’t personally approve it, it didn’t happen. While it was a good strategy for making himself indispensable, it was taking its toll. In the last few years, Max had suffered two minor heart attacks and though it was kept under wraps, rumors were beginning to circulate that he was on his death bed. That’s why Kye had been called back early from his trip.

The rumors weren’t far from the truth as Kye plainly saw when he entered Max’s office only forty-five minutes after he’d landed. Max was seated in his usual throne-like chair but was hooked up to an oxygen tank. The Wall Kat at his side was helping him sip water through a straw, and she smiled softly at Kye when he entered.

“Max,” Kye greeted and shook his hand. Max’s once-powerful hands were in a permanent state of trembling.

“Get out,” Max barked, and the blonde hurried out of the room. “Sit,” Max ordered, and Kye slowly slid into his appointed chair directly across from him. Only the two of them occupied the office. “How was your flight?” Max asked in a hoarse voice.

“It was fine,” Kye answered. “Do you really care?”

“No,” Max replied and pulled the tube out of his nose.

“Didn’t think so,” Kye said chuckling. “We’re looking good in Wexford County. I know that’s what you were hoping to hear. We cleared out some of the competition, but it’s probably going to get ugly before it gets better.”

“You’ll handle it,” Max said shortly. Kye eyed him suspiciously as he stood and poured two glasses of brandy. “We’ve got other business to deal with,” he said, passing one of the glasses to Kye.

“I had a feeling,” Kye stated, taking a polite swig of the gold liquid that burned his throat. Max opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a cream-colored folder that he slid across the table. Kye set his glass down and flipped the front cover open.

The first image was a dual mug shot with the name Duncan Crane underneath with a rap-sheet that took up two more pages. A similar report was next with Duncan’s brother, Leroy. Kye skimmed the details and let out a quick breath.

“Least of these being robberies, but murder? There isn’t much hope for them, Max. We can make them comfortable, pull some connections in prison to make their last few months cushy, but they’ll fry for this.” Max was silent, fingertips pressed together and held against his mouth. He then opened the drawer again and pulled out a second folder. Kye set the first one aside and took the next, expecting to see more mugshots.

He froze when, instead of a stoic, ugly criminal looking back at him, he saw Eliana’s college yearbook photo starting back at him. Behind it was an article from the local paper that boasted of Eliana being the youngest lawyer signed to Nelson, Watford, and Shier. There was a photograph of her house. Cell phone number. Bank information. License plate number.

On the opposite side was a similar report on Henry. However, scrawled recently in red marker across Henry’s photograph was the word ‘DECEASED’. Pulling the picture out, Kye saw the obituary behind it. He pretended to read a moment longer in order to gather his thoughts before looking back at Max.

“So you found Henry Granville?” Kye asked and hoped his voice didn’t sound as shaky as it felt.

“I never lost him,” Max stated as he leaned back in his chair and watched Kye very closely. “Looks like the old bastard bit the dust before we could collect his debt.”

“It’s been ten years, Max…”

“I never forget a debt,” Max interrupted.

“I just mean, if you knew where he was this whole time, why did you wait?”

“You still have a lot to learn, kid,” Max stated and coughed several times before he was able to compose himself. “Some things are all about timing. It’s not just about collecting the debt, but when to collect it.”

“He’s dead, Max. Unless you’re on his life insurance policy, I don’t see you collecting the money he owes you.”

“I’m sure you’re right on that,” Max said thoughtfully as he struggled to open an orange prescription bottle. Kye mercifully took it from him and popped the lid for him. Max poured a few into his hand and downed them while polishing off his drink. “You know, I always saw myself going out in a blaze of glory, not crumpled over a bottle of pills and brandy like some dementia-ridden vegetable.”

“You’re hardly a vegetable, Max,” Kye said.

“But as fate would have it,” Max continued as though he hadn’t been interrupted, “I never had sons. You’d have thought with all the women I’ve had, at least one of those whores would have tried to manipulate me with a kid I could pass this empire to. I’m old, I feel like I’ve got a car parked on my chest every time I breathe. I sneeze and I piss myself. The last doctor I saw recommended I move somewhere with more sun and quit eating meat. Useless fucker.”

“Want me to make you a salad?”

“Sure, go grab me a sack of those novelty carrots and shove one right up your ass,” Max stated, and they both laughed which resulted in Max having another coughing fit. Kye poured him another drink, which he promptly drank. “It’s no secret, all of this,” Max said and gestured to the room around him, “is going to pass to you one day.” Kye felt a glimmer of hope. “You’re about as close to family as any bastard son I could have sired. You see,” Max said as he lit a cigarette, “that’s family.” Kye felt realization begin to set in. “Things pass from father to son. In some cases,” Max said, tapping a finger on the file that still lay open in front of Kye, “father to daughter.”

“You want to milk Eli for fifty grand?” Kye asked before he could stop himself.

“Eli, is it?” Max questioned, but his tone indicated he had more answers than questions. Kye clamped his mouth shut. “I know she used to be your girl,” Max said, blowing out a puff of smoke. “You still got a hard-on for her?”