Rule Breakers (Off Limits #2) - Nicky James Page 0,4
at my reflection. My wheat-blond hair was cut short enough it required little maintenance. I wasn’t bodybuilder buff, but my job was easier when I kept fit and toned. My runner’s frame refused to bulk up past a certain point, which was fine by me. Spending five days a week at the gym was less enticing at forty than it had been at twenty-five.
I ran a toothbrush over my teeth and rolled on deodorant. Running a hand over my sandpaper chin, I scowled at myself in the mirror.
“Fuck this getting old bullshit.”
If someone had asked me twenty years ago what I’d be doing in my forties, the answer would not have been bouncing in a strip club and raising a delinquent kid, but life hadn’t exactly panned out how I’d expected.
Abandoning the mirror, I found my keys and headed out. My goals were a tad skewed. I wasn’t sure if I was going to Denver’s to drag my adult child home or if I was going to give them both a piece of my mind. Denver clearly needed a good kick in the ass if he thought I was putting any thought to his proposal.
Saturday morning traffic wasn’t too thick. It took fifteen minutes to get across town. When I pulled up in front of Denver’s house, I studied the dark covered windows, a thought piercing my brain at random.
Were they fucking right now?
I rattled my head, dislodging that idea before it painted images across my mind I didn’t want to see.
Denver’s driveway was empty, but his vehicle could have been in the garage. The snow covering his driveway had been run-through multiple times, but that didn’t tell me anything. The last time snow had fallen was three days ago.
At the front door, I knocked, pounding my fist with purpose on the hard wood. The cold January air bit at my face and hands, but my insides were hot and angry.
The door swung open, and Edison stood on the other side, arms crossed, wearing an award-winning sneer that looked far too much like my own.
“Hello, father dearest.”
“Where is he?”
“He’s not here. Stormed off about a half hour ago.”
“Get your stuff. I’m taking you to your aunt Vanya’s.”
“No. Why?”
“Because I fucking said so.”
“You can’t tell me what to do.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. This was always how it was with Edison. A battle of wills. There were days I was convinced he purposefully disagreed with me out of spite.
“Then go to your mother’s, Edison. Whatever the hell is happening here with you and Denver, it’s not healthy.”
Edison laughed out loud. “Oh, that’s rich. Are you for real right now?” The devious grin on Edison’s face told me all I needed to know. Denver had spilled the beans. “You’re such a hypocrite.”
“Get in the car.”
“No.”
I balled my fists and spun in place, scanning the street. “Fine. I don’t fucking care what you do. Get the rest of your shit out of my house. A little gone isn’t gone. If you’re leaving, fucking leave.”
I stormed toward my car but came to a grinding halt and flipped back around. “Where did he go?”
“How should I know?”
“Never mind. I’ll find him.”
I knew Denver well enough I could guess.
With my blood boiling, I drove downtown to Denver’s corporate office. Parking was a bitch, even on a Saturday. I found an open meter a block away and dropped a few coins into the ancient machine, wondering when the city would get around to updating them.
With my head down against the January chill, I stormed toward Denver’s high-rise building. McMillan and Sons Incorporated was on the tenth floor, so I aimed for the elevator. The doors opened with a silent swish, and the car dropped me off in a carpeted lobby. The lights were dim, and the administration desk was unattended. Offices lined both sides of the floor. Most of the doors were closed and the rooms beyond dark. Halfway down the hall on my left, one door sat open, a pool of light cutting a triangle onto the hallway floor.
Bingo.
My brother was predictable if nothing else.
I unzipped my jacket as I approached and stuck my knitted hat in my pocket, washing a hand over my hair.
At the doorway, I leaned on the frame and glared at my brother who was hunched over his computer. He knew I was there. I hadn’t been quiet with my approach, ensuring I’d stomped my boots and grumbled on my way from the elevator.