Sleeping With the Enemy

Chapter One

"It's not what it looks like." Alex says, a sarcastic smirk blanketing his face. I fix my shirt quickly before he notices the lipstick.

"Oh, thank God." Dad rolls his eyes. "Because it looks like the three of you got completely smashed last night, destroyed the bar, slept in it, and are now neglecting your responsibilities because you're hung over."

At risk of pissing my dad off even more, I chuckle. "Alright, maybe it's exactly what it looks like."

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" My dad groans. He's always harping one and Alex to settle down, but I've never taken it very seriously until this morning.

"Having breakfast?" Eli shrugs, probably still buzzed from last night.

Dad lets out a sharp laugh. "You're damn lucky. I have bigger issues to deal with this morning than you. Get your ass back to school. You've got finals next week."

"Ah, finals don't mean anything. He's almost graduated." Alex grins, slinging his arm over his shoulder as he comes to Eli's defense.

"Not yet, he isn't. And if he's not out of here in the next thirty seconds, he's going to clean every square inch of this bar with a toothbrush for the rest of the day."

That's all Eli needs to hear, muttering a few goodbyes as he grabs his coat and speeds out the door.

"See you in a few weeks!" I burst out laughing, waving as he goes.

"And as for you two..." My dad turns his attention back to us. "Don't you think it's time you grow up?"

"What and become like you?" I slap my dad's shoulder jokingly. Honestly, that wouldn't be a bad thing at all. My dad is the greatest man I've ever known. Despite the cold and hard exterior he maintains in the mafia world, he's an incredible father and husband. Hard on us, but never to the point of being harsh. Back when I had ambitions of being a husband and a father, I envisioned growing up to be just like him. Not much had changed, except now just molding myself after the Mafia man that he is.

"Your buddy Herrera is at it again." My dad ignores my teasing and tosses a packet of papers on the bar. "This time at the north warehouse."

I pick up the packet, scowling as I read through the cease-and-desist order. This is the third one that we received from him in as many months. Herrera is on a witch hunt and is determined to take us down. He has nothing concrete, so he's trying to bury us with laughable city ordinance violations. Noise, trash, illegally parked vehicles. It's all baseless, but fucking irritating.

"What is this guy's problem?" Alex snarls, snatching the papers out of my hand.

"He's trying to slow us down. Just tighten things up and make sure he won't find anything there," my dad says.

"He won't. The only thing he's going to find is himself on the wrong end of my gun if he keeps at it much longer."

"Easy, Brandon." My dad holds up a silencing hand, his eyes narrow. "Let's just wait this out. I have a feeling he's so desperate that he'll start to make mistakes, and when he does, will be ready."

"And until then?" I hate waiting things out. My dad has a much more hands-off approach than I do. I want to eliminate threats before they ever become a problem, and this Herrera guy is well on his way to becoming a problem.

"Until then, you keep your men in check. Make sure that operations are running tight. I want extra surveillance on every job, and let's hold off on some of the big ticket gambling for a little while."

"That's our biggest money maker." I say flatly.

"Then find something else to supplement it." My dad shrugs.

A restrained scoff escapes Alex. "So basically, we're letting him dictate what we do."

"Just do your job, Alex." My dad's face creases with irritation. "Most of these things we should be doing all the time, so it shouldn't be a problem. If it is, I can get someone else to step in for a while."

"It's not." Alex busies himself with something behind the bar. He's clearly not happy with the way the conversation is going. I'm not either, but I can understand where my dad is coming from. A few days of lost profit to get the guy off our backs for good won't be the end of the world.

"Good." Dad grabs his briefcase. "Brandon, I want you to handle this. Be there when his officers are doing the audit."

"Got it."

"And if you both insist on partying yourselves to death, leave your brother out of it." He points an accusatory finger at us.

"Yes sir." Alex chuckles, sweeping a few beer bottles off the counter, and into the trash.

My dad is gone just as quickly as he appeared, leaving Alex and I standing in the empty bar. I start to grab my things and get ready to leave.

"You're going to make me clean the shit up by myself?" Alex arches his eyebrow at me, bracketing himself against the granite.

"Don't you employ people to do this?" I slip my suit jacket on. I own it, but Alex runs the club and handles the day-to-day operations. It's one of the many legitimate businesses that we run as a cover.

"Yeah. But no one comes in until two this afternoon, and I have interviews this morning."

"Oh, that's right." One of his bartenders gave her two weeks' notice, and last night was her last shift. "Well, good luck."

"Asshole!" Alex yells over his shoulder as I step out the front door.

On a normal day, I might've stayed to help, but I have just enough time to head home and shower before I have to meet the officers at the warehouse. This is the last thing I want to deal with today, but it's my job, and if it gets Herrera off our backs, it will be well worth it.