Page 62 of Shephard

“And no checks and balances.”

“Not enough to matter in this case. Pops ran a loose operation in my opinion. I’m surprised he wasn’t robbed blind.”

“Have you talked with the accountant?”

“Not yet,” my brother admitted. “I wanted to talk to you first. He’s next on my agenda. But I also want to talk to all the managers.”

At least we were talking civilly at this point. Progress. “Carefully. However, we need to limit access to everyone but the three of us. Sure, it’ll ruffle feathers, but as the new owners, we can tell them we’re doing an internal audit.”

“Not bad.” His grin was almost rewarding.

Almost.

“That might flush the thief out into the open.”

“Maybe. I’m beginning to wonder what else Pops lost control of after being diagnosed.”

“Not that he would admit it. I think an audit of all operations is in order.”

“You up for it?” At least I was finally able to offer a smile since seeing the look on his face.

He half chuckled. “Right now, the distraction might be what I need.”

“Yeah, I hear you.”

Another period of awkward silence settled in. “Do you ever miss the military?” he asked. “Or afterwards?”

He’d been an Army ranger in his career, equally decorated. While I had my doubts he’d gone through some of the same horrors I had, we hadn’t talked about our experiences so I wouldn’t know for certain. Mom had told me both my brothers had suffered, but her words hadn’t mattered. I’d also been indoctrinated not to care about family. I’d thought that temporary but now, I wasn’t so certain.

Maybe I was dead inside.

“Not really.” And I didn’t. The mercenary jobs? That I wasn’t so certain about. It had been so ingrained that I was still sleeping in a sleeping bag.

“You’re lucky. The shit I did afterwards wasn’t fulfilling.”

My brother had been a showman since he was a little kid, dressing up for Halloween when I wouldn’t be caught dead in some shit costume. He liked being the center of attention, singing and dancing as if he was so talented. And he’d become a comedian just to try to get my father’s attention. That had only resulted in punishment.

But Jagger hadn’t stopped. He craved affection and acceptance where I couldn’t care less.

“Not much in life is,” I told him.

“Try being a security guard for a fucking arrogant celebrity.” He laughed, but the sound was bitter. “I hated it, but it was something to do. You know? Not glamorous but work.”

“We all need to do what we can to survive.”

“That’s just it, Shep; all I was doing was surviving. The last six months of hunting down traitors took a toll on me.”

“Which you’re not supposed to talk about.”

“Sometimes I feel if I can’t I’m going to lose my mind. All the loyalty we had and I just…” He shook his head. “I know. That was the past.”

I’d heard he’d done a stint selling his services that way before taking other odd jobs, one after the other just like Hunter and I had done. It hadn’t gone well, the celebrity unhappy with Jagger’s performance. After that, he’d disappeared for three years. The same timeframe I’d been off the grid. At least he had kept up with Mother, occasionally calling and reassuring her he was alright. She’d made certain to tell me that on the single call I’d made in… far too long.

“I had my share of idiots and unfulfilling jobs myself,” I told him.

“Maybe you’ll tell me about them some time.” The way he was looking at me was almost hopeful. He appeared older, more haggard than he had. That didn’t mean I had a damn clue what to say to him.

“Some stories aren’t worth telling.”