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Marc exhaled, sitting back in the passenger seat. He had no idea his brother had gotten into financial trouble. He had a huge house, and his two kids attended private school. He and his wife drove expensive cars and went on lavish vacations. “What about your inheritance from—”
“Do you think I’d be sitting here with a gun on you if I still had that? It’s gone! It’s all gone!”
“And killing me is the answer you came up with? You couldn’t just ask me for a loan? Or all of your siblings for a loan?”
“I need 450 million.”
“What?”
“Yeah, that’s a little more than a loan. Lilah is fucking broke, and I have no idea if Gabe’s got any money. But you…you’ve amassed a nice little nest egg. Last I checked, you were worth at least 800 million and that’s if I’m forced to auction off your entire art collection in a rush. If we go slowly, I could probably get close to a billion for all your assets.”
“I’ve got a fucking will, Richard. My estate would be broken up among the three of you along with large chunks going to charity. You wouldn’t get enough to cover all of the 450 million you need.”
“Yeah, but I’d get more than enough to cover up some of the mess and then skip town. There are a lot of places in the world where you can disappear and live comfortably on just a few million.”
“You’d leave your wife? Your kids?”
Richard remained silent as he rubbed his chest again. He swayed slightly in the seat, and it was like he was struggling to keep the car in the lane as they went around another hard turn. Tires squealed on the pavement, and the BMW drifted to the edge of the lane, getting too damn close to the railing.
“I’m your brother, Richard. I would have helped you if you’d just said something. I’ll help you now.”
“I don’t need help.” The words had barely left his lips when a pained gasp cut across the car. Richard dropped the gun he’d been desperately clutching in his left hand and grabbed at his chest. A second later, Richard’s body jerked, and the car skidded off toward the guardrail.
Marc didn’t have time to reach for his brother. He knew what was happening. The poisoning and stress had damaged his heart further, and he was having a heart attack like the doctor had warned. He tried to reach for the wheel to pull the car back into their lane, but it was too late. The BMW crashed through the guardrail on the far side of the road and plunged down the steep hillside toward the thick grove of trees.
The last thing Marc remembered was crying out for Royce.Everything fucking hurt. Head, chest, hands…fuck, his eyeballs even felt dry and scratchy. Marc turned his head and slowly opened his eyes. He blinked and squinted against the painfully bright light before they finally focused enough on a figure standing at the foot of his bed. Royce…
No, Rowe. Rowe Ward was standing at the foot of his bed with his arms crossed over his chest and a bleak look on his face. He didn’t want to see Rowe. Didn’t want to deal with the man’s old anger and disappointment. He wanted Royce.
But as he thought of the man he’d fallen in love with, a flood of memories rushed over him. Royce had found him on the hillside, pulled him out of the battered and twisted metal. He thought he’d seen tears on his face, but maybe it had been raining. There was an ambulance. Paramedics rushing around. Shouting.
Then the hospital. Lilah crying. Gabe looking hurt and confused. A doctor coming in to say that Richard’s heart attack had triggered cardiac arrest. He was on life support, but the brain damage was too extensive. Richard…his brother…the brother who tried to kill him…was gone.
He wanted Royce. He just wanted Royce. That was it. Royce would help it all make sense. Help him breathe through the pain and betrayal.
But when Royce came in after Gabe took Lilah home, his face was cold and hard. “The job is done. I’m being reassigned.”
“This is more than a job. We’re more than a job.” The words came out fractured and sharp, cutting up his already sore throat.
“I’m sorry, but you…you have to just be a job.”
And then Royce left.
A loud, ugly moan filled the room, but Marc didn’t realize it had come from his lips until Rowe was rushing over to his side, grabbing his hands as he tried to pull at his hair. Anything to stop the flood of memories. His brother had tried to kill him. Royce left.
Oh God, Royce left him.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Just breathe,” Rowe said, easily capturing his hands and pulling them down. He was so fucking weak, and his head was throbbing in time with his racing heart. “You’ll get through this. I promise. Just breathe.”
