The morning light barely touched the cracked blinds of the tiny office. Dust floated in the air like old secrets. Brandon stood in the middle of the room, hands on his hips, staring at the peeling paint and the water stain that looked vaguely like the Hughes Corp logo.
“This is it,” he muttered. “Ground zero.”
Julia leaned against the doorframe, hair tied messily, a cup of cheap instant coffee in her hand. “You sound like a man planning to launch missiles, not a business.”
“Same thing,” he said with a faint smirk. “Both start with a countdown and could end in flames.”
He dropped his keys onto the single desk—his only piece of furniture—and exhaled slowly. The last of his savings had gone into the deposit. His car was gone. His name meant nothing now, except maybe trouble.
“Do you regr
