Page 107 of My Rose

He gripped my chin, his touch warm. “Because I fucking love you, Rose. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.” He kissed me again, stealing the breath from my lungs. I was still dazed as he stood and started ripping the taped cords from his arms and chest.

“Briggs, sit your ass back down. Wherever he went, you won’t be finding him in your condition,” Dean said, standing from the couch and moving to block the door Briggs was eyeing. “I think we need to talk about why your father wants her dead so badly.”

“He thinks Rose is a threat to me taking over the company. Seems pretty straightforward to me.” Briggs clenched his fists at his sides and reluctantly sat back down beside me. A nurse rushed in, sneering at Briggs until he held his arms out for her to fix the mess of cords he left on the floor. “He’s pissed he can’t force me to marrysomeone else, and he has it in his head that your daughter is the only acceptable choice so I can run the entire company.”

Dean snorted. “I told him a long time ago that was never going to work out.”

But they were wrong. All of it was wrong. “Your mom and my mom were working together.”

His hands cupped my neck, his thumbs smoothing the line of my jaw as his forehead scrunched in confusion. “My mom knew your mom?” I watched as those magnificent gears in his head started to turn.

I bit down on my lip in thought, then glanced between Briggs and Dean. “Yeah. I think they were friends before, too. She was at their wedding, and there’s an M and a V carved into the floors at my grandparents’ house in her old bedroom. Her voice is the same in my dream and in the video.” I paused, collecting my thoughts. “They went deeper than working together. They must have been really good friends, and that’s why your mom trusted my mom as a lawyer to confide in.”

“Victoria grew up here. Your father didn’t,” Dean said pointedly. “They could have easily been friends without him knowing at first.”

Briggs adjusted himself on the bed, trying to hide the pain he was in as he took my hand. “I don’t usually hear what they’re saying—mostly, the nightmare is the fire and nothing more, but now I think…I think I know what they were talking about. At least, some of it.”

Briggs’ eyes darted between mine. “He said there were two. He wasn’t talking about you at all, was he? He meant our moms, didn’t he?”

I nodded again. “Your mom was talking about you and Beck and using one of you as a witness. She was scared, Briggs. I don’t think she wanted to do what she was doing but felt she had no choice.”

“My mom left us in January, almost two months after the fire.” Briggs turned his attention to Dean. “Do you know where my mom went all those years ago?”

Dean was silent for a beat, his shoes tapping along the tile. “I know she’s alive. As for where, I’m not sure. That’s the whole point of entering yourself into the witness protection program.”

Briggs’ eyes widened. “You knew she ran because of this?”

Dean raised his voice. “Because of this? No. I knew she ran, and I knew she wasn’t fucking traceable. I put two-and-two together. Victoria was a self-preservationist, and when your father—”

“Yourbest friend,” Briggs pointed out.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Briggs. He’s hardly anything to me beyond the partner in a business I now want to see you at the head of, seeing as you’re willing. For all I care, you can put that bullet in your father like you want. I don’t give a damn. He overstepped when he started beating you. I’m not currently sitting here for him, now am I?”

“You want the company?” I asked, surprised the first thing from my mouth wasn’t about shooting his father. It’s funny how once someone comes after your life and the lives of the ones you love, you can suddenly justify someone else ending theirs. But that feelingwent away almost immediately—it was wrong to take a life. That wasn’t a decision either of us should make.

“All I want is you,” Briggs answered, and my heart swelled. “Business is what I know and am good at, and if I decide to leave it down the road, at least I know I had a hand at turning the VanAndrews name around.” He leaned in, pressing his forehead to mine, the next words spoken low and meant only for us to hear. “As long as I can come home to you for the rest of my life, I’ll be the happiest man alive.”

He turned his focus back to Dean as goosebumps flooded my skin. “What could her mother and my mother possibly have on him or the company all those years ago that was kept hidden for this long?”

Dean pressed his elbows to his knees as he leaned forward on the couch, two fingers tapping his lips. “The amount of things your father dips his hands into started becoming too difficult to follow a long time ago.” Briggs looked less than pleased with that answer, a dark storm brewing in his eyes as he leaned back. “I’ve been trying to sort out a few things myself lately.”

“So, what do we do now?”

Chapter 39

Briggs

“He who is not prepared today will be less so tomorrow.” ? Ovid

Days went by with no word from my father. No word in the media about multiple gunshots being heard from the rooftop that night. No word about the VanAndrews heir being the receiver of one of those gunshots. The news coverage started and stopped at the door of the Met—as was alwaysthe case.

Rose hadn’t left my side once when I was in the hospital, and now that we were finally home, I just wanted our life to begin. I wanted the week of peace that we had before my father tried to kill Rose to return. I wanted Rose to stop looking at me like I was more injured than I really was. Being shot nearly an inch from a major artery was sheer luck, but I’d been in worse pain before. The amount of blood I lost was the thing that took me out, but now that I was back on my feet, I was ready to get Rose off of hers. Preferably on her back, underneath me.

In a groggy state, I squinted my eyes as my phone lit up on my nightstand with a call I really didn’t want or need. Removing my arm from Rose’s waist slowly, I crawled out of bed. Right as I pulled my sweats on, a faint knock sounded on our bedroom door.

Dean stood on the other side, adjusting his gun along his waist. He and Jasmine had been staying at our house since I’d been shot—waiting for the next move with us. “They call you, too?”

I looked over my shoulder at Rose—who was curled up and covered by our comforter—before I stepped out into the hallway, pushing my arms into my jacket sleeves. “Of course, I got a call. It’s my fucking house.” I checked the magazine as we walked towards the front door. “What I want to know is why my security team thought they should call you.”

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