Page 82 of Texting the CEO's Obsession
“What the fuck are you doing, Bruno?” I demand, my mouth going dry in fear of the answer.
He wouldn’t.
Hewouldn’t.
“I’m tying up your loose ends before you can bring more shame to this family in the media, kid.”
He would.
My vision grays around the edges as uncontrollable rage floods my veins, and my whole body shakes when an agonized scream echoes over the line, quickly drowned out by Bruno’s laughter.
“You motherfucker!” I shout, chest heaving. “I’ll kill you, I swear to fucking God, Bruno.”
He snorts disbelievingly, a pained sob following the sound. “Whatever you say, kid. See you later.”
He hangs up before I can say another word, and my body moves on autopilot. I can’t feel a single thing as I vault halfway down the stairs and dash to my car, too numb to allow anything but my immediate goal to permeate my thoughts.
I need to get to Riley.
I need to gethome.
I need to make him regret it if it’s the last thing I do.
He has no idea that Ma has kept me updated on the lay of the land even though I haven’t been involved in the family business for years. I know where the piece of shit does all his dirty work, and his favorite spot by far is one of the soundproof sheds on the edge of our family property.
It’s going to be his grave.
I put the pedal to the metal, weaving in and out of traffic with weaponized precision as I rush toward our family home. My breathing is the kind of carefully steady that I’ve only ever noticed in the middle of a fight, my hands so tight on the wheel that my knuckles blanch white. Somehow, I manage to make it there without crashing, and I skid the car to a stop at the very end of the driveway.
Thanking God that I never got out of the habit of keeping a gun in the car, I double-check that it’s loaded before hopping out and bolting through the side garden.
Sensation rushes back all at once when the shed finally comes into view. I flick the safety off on my gun as I put on even more speed. My heart slams painfully against my ribs, my lungs burning for air, and all I can think of is Riley.
I don’t slow down in the slightest when I reach the shed, instead barreling into the door at full speed.
I hit it hard enough to send it flying open, the wood splintering beneath the force. My shoulder screams in agony, but I pay it no mind as I raise my gun, training the sights right between Bruno’s eyes.
“Back off!” I shout before I even skid to a stop. Riley is chained to a chair to his left, blood dripping from her nose and eyes wide with terror. A massive, wickedly curved blade glints under the single bulb in the shed. My gut twists at the sight of the blood that shines on it. “Fucking standdown, Bruno. It’s over! You move a single inch and I’ll put a bullet in your head.”
Those empty, shark-like eyes flit between my face and the gun leveled at his head, and even before his scarred lips part in a grin, I know what decision he’s going to make.
“Bruno,stop!” The words come out ragged, dragging up my throat like broken glass. “You’re still my brother, Bruce. Don’t do this. Don’t make me do this.”
His grin twists into a vicious, hateful sneer, and his knuckles go white around the hilt of the knife he’s holding.
“This,” he spits, gesturing between the two of us with the tip of his knife, “isyourfault. You stopped being my brother when you left me and Ma to handle the dirty work so you could live it up in your fancy fucking office.”
“I’ll come back,” I promise, breathless and as close to pleading as I’ve been in a long time. “I’ll leave the company to Marcus. Tell me what you want and I’ll do it, Bruce, just let her go.”
Dark eyes narrow in a cruel grin.
“Put the gun down,” he says.
It’s both testing and taunting.
My hold on my gun doesn’t waver, and a muscle in my jaw ticks as dread creeps into my bloodstream.
“Put the knife down,” I fire back. “And let Riley go.”
