Dane

He never quite got his father to commit to letting him have the job on Harry—but his father didn't deny him of it either, which Dane knew was a good sign.

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The whole time they spoke, the others just watched on. But Felix… Felix watched with the kind of light in his eyes that his father got sometimes. An eerie glow that made Dane's blood cold.

Dane still couldn't tell if Felix was trying to encourage him because it would work well into the vague plan he'd outlined for taking out his father, and he still wanted Dane to be a part of that. Or if it was because he wanted to rat Dane out when Dane convinced his father to let him loose with a gun.

Felix knew—had expressed to Dane—that the more accustomed his father became to him carrying a weapon, the more likely he was to let his guard down and give them a chance to remove him. He'd encouraged Dane to take any and every opportunity to be armed in his father's presence. But that wasn't why Dane had pushed for this.

Dane wanted to be in a position to save Harry's life if it came to that.

He pointedly ignored what that might mean for his own.

Dane hadn't gotten on board with Felix's plan, hadn't committed. Had even specifically said he wouldn't, but Felix hadn't stopped visiting and talking to him about it as if he were still a part of it. But Dane also hadn't told Felix that he was going to his father with it. And he still didn't know if his father had revealed Dane's report to Felix—or whether the entire story was a set up between them to test Dane.

It was impossible to know with these men. They were snakes. As capable of betraying each other as they were of saving each other's lives—and killing others to do it. There was no way to know until the moment that it mattered. It kept everyone on a knife edge—which his father did on purpose, he knew. He believed as sense of security made people lazy. Or cocky.

The only person allowed to be arrogant in his father's empire was Douglas Daniels. And occasionally his son. As long as the arrogance was pointed at someone that wasn't Douglas.

Dane stifled a sigh as the conversation turned from his role in the project, to the project at large. His father was still showing off—showing him some of the technology they had, the vehicles, the people.

"Helicopters?" Dane asked at one point. "What for?"

"Come, Dane, don't tell me you don't use the long-distance surveillance. It's even better than it used to be now. If we need to, we can be fifteen miles in the air and still watch men on the ground and see the whites of their eyes."

"I can't say I've ever had many reasons for that kind of surveillance," he lied. It wasn't something they'd done often, but they'd used the kind of technology his father was describing for years. It was hardly new.

"Well, we have the capacity now to lock on—we can send drones up to do the work identifying our targets, then they'll just… keep watching them. Video, audio, heat sensors, the whole thing. We've even surveilled the surveillance teams at times, which is a hoot. I'll bring you on next time we'd doing that. It's fun to listen to them talking about idiotic and oblivious the people are that they're watching."

Holy shit.

His father smirked. "Yes, you'll see, Dane. Being on my side puts the world at your feet. Anything you need, you just let me know. We can make it happen. Nothing is out of reach, do you understand me? Nothing." When he turned from the monitor he'd been indicating to meet Dane's eyes, there was an edge in his gaze that made Dane go cold.

"Good to know."

"Is it? Are you sure?"

"Yes. I am," Dane muttered through his teeth.

His father didn't respond, just stood there, staring at him.

It was a technique he used at times to test people, and even knowing that, Dane still felt th tension in the room rising. The watching men stared on, waiting to see what their leader would decide about his wayward son, and Dane waited too.

A part of him hoped his father would give up and just kill him on the spot. But damned if he was going to keel over and become a doormat just because his dad liked to play mind games.

The men around them went very still and quiet, knowing there was nothing to be gained by stepping into this little battle of wills. And Dane knew he'd do himself no favors trying to draw them in. So, he held his father's laser gaze, and waited.

And waited.

And almost startled when his father's phone buzzed in his pocket.

His father smiled a small smile before pulling open the front breast of his suit and pulling the phone out of the interior pocket. "Saved by the bell, Dane. Or the buzz, as it were," he grinned.

It was impossible to know if he'd really been playing and now was relaxed, or if he was on the edge of murder and just waiting for the moment that offered maximum impact.

He'd seen his father take both routes after one of these little challenges.

Along with the others, he just watched as his father answered the phone, then frowned. "Repeat that, please," he said in a flat voice. He waited and his face went blank, which was a sure sign that something he didn't like was happening. Dane's stomach dipped in exactly the same way it had as a child when he'd heard that toneless warning in his father's voice. His father was at his most brutal when he showed no emotion.

"This was not part of the plan," he said, snipping off each word, his eyes narrowing as he listened. "You were told to keep yourself above such things." Dane swallowed. Someone was going to pay. He wasn't sure if the men around him felt the same sense of impending doom as he did. All he knew was that this conversation was taking him back to years of his life that he did not want to revisit. Then his father looked at Dane, while he listened, and Dane couldn't figure out of it was because whatever this conversation was, it involved him, or if Doug was just pissed off at Dane and whoever was on the other end of that phone. "Your timing couldn't be worse, but clearly there's nothing to be done about it now. So, do not move. We'll join you before too long. I have just a few more details to sort out here."

He didn't wait to hear from the other person, just hung up the phone and let his lips purse. "It's so hard to find good help these days, have you noticed, Dane?"

"Sure." It was also a ploy of his father to switch gears quickly, and mercilessly, leaving people constantly off-balance and uncertain where they stood.

"Leading a team is one thing I've meant to speak with you about. I know you have the real experience of being at the top of an ever-moving pile. Most of these goons have never had to manage more than a handful of lives at a time. But I've seen you at work, son. You're excellent at driving people to do their best—or at least, to be too scared not to. Though I do think you could be less… ragey."

"Like you?" Dane couldn't help it, he smirked.

His father threw back his head and laughed. "Yes! Exactly. Exactly like me. Good one, Son."

To Dane's surprise, they then continued their tour around the little bay of computers and staff, his father pointing out tools they would use, and introducing him to people who would help. By the time they'd finished, another fifteen minutes had passed. Then, one by one, Doug assigned the other men—including Felix—different roles, things to do, or tasks to finish.

"We'll meet back here in two hours, at which point I expect we'll have everything under control, yes?"

The man all murmured their compliance. Felix cut Dane another look that he ignored in case his father caught it, but Doug had turned away from them, the men forgotten. "Okay, Dane, the time has come for us to be brothers in arms," he said, rubbing his hands together.

"Oh?"

"Yes, I have a small crisis, not much more than an irritation, to be fair, but it is rather urgent, so I'd like you to come with me and hear the people involved and tell me what you think."

"You want my advice?"

"Advice? Maybe. I think… I think you'll have a unique insight on this with your background. So… look, let's just go back to my office and deal with it. I'll have lunch sent up there."

Dane eyed his father warily, but followed without complaint, his entire body wound tighter than a guitar string.

Maybe if his father didn't kill him, a heart attack would.