Page 69 of Mason

Dad believed him. He thought I’d hatch a plan to kill him? Like the bottle won’t rob him of his liver and life sooner rather than later. Like I want any of the ruins he’s set to leave behind. His own sons killed one another. What kind of fucking legacy is that?

He laughs, tilting the flask to his lips for a swig. “Juiciest bit of gossip I’ve heard in ages. Then your bitch of a brother called that night claiming your daddy gave Emily to the Kozlov bastards. He wanted me to off old Thomas, too. Messy son of a bitch. No one ever told him that lies catch up to you. One’s okay. Two’s a little tricky. But once you layer them like bricks, all it takes is one little leak to take down the wall of bullshit.”

“Still doesn’t explain why one of your men would work with Grady.”

He offers a sip from his flask that I refuse. “Doesn’t explain why you snatched Oscar and Rachel, either. Rob Darrow has been up my ass about his kid for over a week. Where is she?”

“Last I heard, Oscar was headed to a doctor with a hole in his gut, courtesy of Grady. Rachel… didn’t make it.”

He lets out a shaky breath and downs a few gulps. “Motherfucker.”

“I need to tell her.” I glance between him and the door leading to the hall.

“No.” He rubs at his chin, the stubble scratching against his skin like sandpaper. “Not tonight.”

“Before you leave. Please. I need to tell her.” Maybe this will solidify that she needs to run— not walk—away from me. Her not shooting me dead in the cabin was a mistake. I shouldn’t be in this bed right now. I don’t deserve it.

He puffs his chest out, ready to throw on his tough-guy front. “She just got out of surgery, and…”

“She’s a big girl. She can handle the truth. Besides, she’ll hate my guts forever.”

I know he can’t say no to that.

And he doesn’t.

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