Page 62 of Finding Michael

“Cody?” Dennis snarled. “He’s a child.”

“He’s a year older than me.” Tristan left his spot on the couch and stood between Dennis and Michael. “He’s in love with you.”

“You’re mature.” Dennis’ voice cracked. “You need me. He doesn’t.”

“I’m not all that mature.” Tristan hadn’t been when he’d still lived in New York. But leaving and resetting his brain had helped him to gain insight. He did better in the slower pace.

“We’ve got a good thing.” Dennis blushed. “I can’t imagine life without you. You write and I’ll hold you up.”

“I’ve got Michael for that.” Tristan stood firm. “I need to get out. I’m in a box here. I’m trapped. My creativity went to shit. When I changed venues, it came back.”

“No.” Dennis grabbed Tristan’s shoulders. “You owe me this.”

“Owe you?”What the hell?Tristan splayed his hands on Dennis’ chest. The rush wasn’t there—not like with Michael. The desire and need…he felt nothing. Michael was the one he wanted and he owed Dennis nothing.

“Yes. I’ve been here. I’ve put up with your shit. I’ve watched you be a self-indulged asshole. I’ve cleaned up your messes and pushed you to write.” Dennis shoved Tristan. “Yeah, I fucking pushed you.”

“You encouraged me, sure.” He didn’t understand.

“No, you fucknut.I’mthe one who sent all those messages. The emails. Don’t you get it? I told you not to go to the police because I’m the one who sent them. The fear made you great,” Dennis said. The veins in his forehead stuck out. He gritted his teeth. “Understand?”

“Dennis?” He froze. Everything made sense and scared him to his core. The man he’d trusted with his banking, his career, his life…wanted to help, but in return for something. “What are you thinking?”

“I’ve seen what you’ve got. I know you. That tidy trust fund money would be great. Share it with me and I’m gone.” Dennis grabbed Tristan’s shirt. “A quarter million should do it. I’ll keep my mouth shut and you’ll never have to worry about me again.”

“Dennis.”Shit, shit, shit.He’d thought Dennis was the one person who wouldn’t fuck him over. He’d been wrong.

Michael eased between Tristan and Dennis. “Slow down.” He shoved his phone into Tristan’s hand. “If you truly love this man, then you don’t want to extort him. Come on.”

“You don’t understand. I’ve spent years cleaning up after him.” Dennis lunged at Michael, but somehow Michael kept them both upright. “He owes me. He’s got the money. His family is filthy rich. They can afford this.”

“That happens.” Michael nudged Dennis away from Tristan.

“I want my due,” Dennis screamed.

Tristan didn’t know what to do. He’d had Dennis or various other wait staff cleaning up after him all his life.What the hell?He glanced down at the phone. Michael had left the notation function open.

I texted the police and your chauffeur. Someone should be up in a moment. If the police call, ANSWER IT.

He glanced up at Michael.Holy shit.He nodded when Michael looked at him. Tristan sent another text from Michael’s phone, but this time to the building security.

“What’s it going to be?” Dennis asked. “Money or we’re together?” He notched his chin in the air. “Or do I kill him? He’s the one in the way.” He pulled a small revolver from behind his back. “I’ll do it, then blame you.”

Tristan typed out a text for Michael.

Need help in penthouse 2. Being held at gunpoint. Help.

He hit send, then met Dennis’ gaze. Tristan turned on the camera function and aimed it at Dennis. “Don’t hurt Michael. You’re mad at me. Not him.” He put the phone on the table, then inched over to Dennis. He needed to buy more time for the police and security to arrive. “Just stop. Kill me. Hurt me, but not him.” He put his hands up. “Please?”

“Stay with me. This ends if you stay.” Dennis threw his arms around Tristan and pointed the gun at Tristan’s head. “You’re really doing it?”

The blunt barrel of the revolver pushed into Tristan’s scalp, reminding him the danger wasn’t over. He fought to stay calm. “Yeah. I’m staying.” He rested his hands on Dennis’ hips. “Let him go.”

“Whatever.” Dennis moved the gun and waved it. “Go.”

Tristan noticed Michael out of the corner of his eye. Michael shook his head. “Put the gun down. You don’t want to do this. You don’t want to hurt Tristan…not if you love him. If you truly care about him, you wouldn’t extort him. You’d show him how you feel and bring him closer.”

“What are you? A therapist?” Dennis waved the gun again. “Shut up.”

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