For a minute, Nathan considered the previously mentioned childish behavior if only because he didn't want to hear her tell him she was comfortable with all she had done. "Do you think I give a damn about your encouragement over what happened with me and Linderman? Jesus Christ, Ma, that isn't even remotely close." He certainly couldn't absolve himself of his responsibility in that, his plans with the F.B.I. or not, because he'd still listened, to Linderman and to her. He'd listened. No one had held a gun to his head during that time and made him. "That? Is not one of the big reasons why I'm so angry with you I can't be in the same room with you for more than five minutes without losing my temper."
To be fair, it had been at least seven minutes at this point, if not an even ten.
"All right, you want to talk?" he said, smacking his hands palms down on the counter. "Fine. Start talking about the fact you profess to love your sons and then order one of them to be shot down like some kind of rabid animal."
she'd locked him in a room, she'd started this and maybe it was time he finally hear her excuses for doing that, for not having faith in his brother, for not having faith in him and, in the end, for caring about the Company instead of her family.