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“Tell me what the fuck is going on,” Brandon exclaims.
“Your papa owed me a lot of money, Brandon,” he explains, tapping his gun against his forehead.
“Bullshit. My papa paid you back. I was there myself,” Brandon retorts.
“That was for the shop. But your papa had to go and snoop around my business. He found out I was selling drugs to my clients, and I could no longer trust him.”
Brandon’s entire body begins to shake.
“I should’ve known something was up when he packed up everything and moved out of the reserve with you and your mom,” he says. “Took me some time to figure it out. Anyway, I didn’t want him to suffer, but anyone who tries to meddle in my business is a threat. Especially when they’re planning on ratting me out to the police.” He taps his foot on the floor. “I don’t like people who threaten my money, boy, and I don’t like it when people betray me.”
Josiah looks up at us from underneath his hooded lashes, the darkness in his eyes bringing ripples of fear to my stomach. I want to hurl.
“Do you understand now?” he adds, his tone toe-curling deep. “I was the one who had him killed.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Brandon
A rage like never before overcomes me, boiling up underneath my skin until I scream.
“You … you fucking killed my papa?”
“Well, technically, I didn’t,” my uncle says, shrugging. “I hired some men to do it for me. I don’t like the excess violence. Especially not against a family member.”
My papa… murdered by his own brother?
Because he saw their drug scheme and wanted to do the right thing?
“Tell me you’re lying,” I hiss, trying to see through the rage, but it’s already getting black in front of my eyes.
“About what? His death?” He shakes his head. “It’s the God’s honest truth.”
“That’s not possible.” My lips tremble from anger. “The Zippo—”
“I got my men to steal something from the Burrell property so they could plant it there and blame the Burrells,” he says. “But they didn’t know that Zippo belonged to you and neither did I, or I would’ve told them not to touch it.”
“You’re lying!” I hiss.
“I’m not,” he replies. “I think it’s time you knew the truth.”
“You asked me who killed Papa. You even helped me get revenge on Ben and Danny! Why would you even want them killed if they didn’t do it?”
He snorts. “I paid for them to grow that batch of drugs, and they burned it down, so they needed to be punished for letting my money go down the drain. An eye for an eye.”
“What?” Dixie yells.
“It was my fault that farmhouse burned down,” I say through gritted teeth.
I can’t believe that was his reason for killing the Burrell twins.
“You?” My uncle raises his brows. “Interesting. Not that it matters. What’s done is done. It’s in the past. As long as my business isn’t threatened, everything’s fine.”
It was all for his business.
No wonder my papa wanted nothing to do with the reserve. My uncle ran the fucking place. And my papa always hated the Burrells too. He must’ve known what they were doing in that farmhouse, and that my uncle was selling their stash to all his clients and probably more people too.
And I never believed him.
Shame infiltrates my lungs, constricting my throat. If only I’d believed him then. Maybe I could’ve done something to keep him from dying.
Fuck!
If this is all true, my uncle is fucking worse than scum.
“Tell me you didn’t fucking have your own fucking brother killed,” I say, pacing around with my gun aimed at him.
All he does is smile as if he’s a goddamn devil.
“You took me under your wing,” I growl, still not wanting to believe he killed my papa. “I called you, and you came to me as if you didn’t know what had happened to my papa.”
“It’s called lying, and I did it to protect you,” my uncle says.
“Protect me?” I bark, completely out of my mind with hatred. “You made me believe I was responsible for my own papa’s death! And then I find out you murdered him?!”
In a fit of blind rage, I grunt and shoot him in the shoulder.
He buckles and grabs his arm. Then he aims and shoots back. I duck away but not in time, and the bullet lodges itself into my knee. I ignore the pain and focus on my aim, shooting at his feet. He jumps toward Dixie and grabs her, holding her up like a shield.
“You son of a bitch!”
“Now, now, Brandon.” He picks her up from the floor and holds her close, pushing the gun against her temple. “That’s no way to talk to your uncle.”
“You’re not my fucking family anymore!” I bark. “You don’t get to call yourself my uncle!”
I feel sick for ever having called him my family.
