Page 68 of Mason

Mason

Bright lights burn my eyes.

Well, fuck. It worked.

Here I thought all those prayers were a waste of time for a sorry son of a bitch like me.

“I know you’re awake, you fuck.”

False alarm. God isn’t Anthony Giambelli, regardless of what the crazy bastard thinks.

I open one eye and then the other, finding the source of the blinding light: Anthony Giambelli waving a goddamn phone’s flashlight in my face. “Rise and shine, motherfucker.”

My hands drift up to shield my eyes. Rather, one hand does. The other is immobilized, a sling and bandages locking my arm in place against my side. I’m in a hospital bed with an IV dangling from my free hand, the air thick with sterility.

“Make it quick.” I sigh, ready for what’s coming. I earned it. “Spare the face, will you? Mom deserves one of her sons to have an open casket.”

An asteroid of a lump lodges in my chest when Grady’s face flashes through my mind. He died with his face stretched in horror, like he couldn’t believe I shot him. But it had to be done. Forever the coward, he slaughtered Spencer in his bed as he slept. Hell, he was trying to kill me. Emily.

Emily.

“How’s Emily?” I might as well ask before it’s all over. Die with a little good news for the long road to hell.

His jaw clinches hard enough that he might crack a tooth. “Stay away from my daughter, and you’ll live.”

I trust that promise as much as I trust Dad when he swears he’ll only have two drinks at dinner. “How is she?”

“Fine. We’re waiting on discharge forms, and we’ll be on our way home.”

Despite the cocktail of drugs running through my veins, panic hits my chest like a lightning bolt. “You can’t leave her alone!” He needs to take her off the radar entirely.

He waves me off, wiping a piece of lint from his button-down shirt. “She’s resting with two armed hospital guards who have no affiliation to me. Dixon was clear in his instructions. We spoke a second time a short time ago, after Emily informed me of the insider problem.”

“You can’t take her home. It isn’t safe.” I don’t care if I have to kidnap her myself, with one goddamn arm this time around. I won’t let her step foot on the Giambelli property. Who knows what Grady promised someone to kill her?

He rubs at his temple, his cheeks flushing red. His once carefully coiffed hair has seen better days, the black strands wild and streaked with gray. He must’ve stopped touching them up since the funeral. “You’re right. A shit hole cabin in the woods is a better idea.”

“It kept her alive.” She wasn’t the happiest camper in the forest, but I did my best with what I had available to me. It’s hard to compete with a three-million-dollar estate. But I refuse to fluff his ego and admit it. He has enough of a hard-on over himself.

His lip twitches with a smile. “You’re argumentative for someone whose life I’m sparing.”

“If you’d kill a man for saving your daughter, that’s your problem, not mine.”

His smile spreads, revealing white teeth that are too perfect to be real. Everything about this guy creeps me the hell out. Fake, fake, and more fake. “You and I need to catch up and swap information. We didn’t talk much at the funeral. Well, other than you lying to my face about my dear daughter.”

“I did what I had to do to keep her safe. If I told you that I had her tucked away somewhere, you would’ve killed me before I left the cemetery.”

He rubs a hand along his jaw as if he needs to ponder the thought. “Probably.”

“Let’s start at the beginning of this clusterfucker. What happened during your meet with Thomas the morning of Spencer’s murder?”

Dad will never tell me the truth. Especially now that Grady’s gone. I’ll never be anything more than Cain in his eyes. The wicked son. And I still get to break that news to him and Mom if Dixon hasn’t already.

Anthony lets out a gravelly laugh. “A tip floated in that you were trying to kill him. I think we can now deduce where that came from by a process of elimination. Well, your elimination.”

“Why the fuck…?” I never hurt Grady. He’s my brother. Was my brother. I have to live with what I did for the rest of my life.

“Come on, Mason. Think like a bitch. He’d inherit the kingdom, kid. He didn’t want to share a single drop of your drunken daddy’s affection.” He reaches down, lifting a flask from his belt. “Your daddy, Jesus, I’ve never seen a man more ready to shit himself.”

---