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Fox and Atlas both rushed him, grabbing for his arm. A shot went off. The revolver was abruptly pointed at the ceiling. Vander was trying to push them away, but they wrestled him for the gun. The three of them hit the floor, grappling for it.
Using the distraction, Luke urged Ophelia up and shoved her toward the door. She ran, but caught his hand and dragged him along behind her. Luke could barely hear past the pounding of his heart.
A shot cracked through the warehouse. Another.
Luke pushed Ophelia through the doorway. Shut her in. Turned back to help.
Fox and Atlas were up, spattered in blood. Vander was lying on the floor, blood already pooling around his body.
Oh shit. What the hell were they going to do now?
Lurch stared down at Vander for a moment then rubbed a hand over his face. “Fuck!”
“He pulled the trigger.” Rick got down on his knees and checked for vitals, but shook his head. “I saw it happen. He fucking shot himself thinking he was going to get Fox.”
“I wanted to wing him,” Lurch said, sounding frustrated. “I thought maybe he’d stop and think about what he was doing if I did, but I couldn’t get a shot off without hitting Fox or Atlas.”
“I didn’t have a shot either,” Rick replied. “If the guys hadn’t grabbed him though, I don’t know if I would have been fast enough.”
When Luke got closer, he saw the bullet had gone through Vander’s eye. Bits of bone and gray gore dotted the macabre blood splatter that oozed and spread across the dirty concrete. Vander’s dead face looked surprised.
Luke bit back the bile at the back of his throat. He’d wanted to kill Vander himself only a few minutes ago—rage still pulsed through him—but seeing his brains sprayed across the floor was horrific and frustrating and sickening.
The office door sprang open and Addison was there first, trying to stop Ophelia from coming back in.
“Fuck.” Luke turned away from Vander, and moved back toward the office door. The blood stench was overwhelming.
“Shit,” Atlas breathed. “What the fuck are we supposed to do?”
Luke heard Ophelia sob, and he got to her and urged her back. This time she clung to him. He wrapped his arms around her small, shaking shoulders, and held her close. Afraid. Relieved. Feeling hollow.
Thank god Vander had missed. Any of them could have died tonight—they all might have. But his cousins hadn’t died. Ophelia was safe.
He tried to feel bad about Vander but he was only relieved he was dead.
“Just go,” Lurch murmured into the quiet. “We’ll take care of it.”
Chapter 19
Ophelia tapped her pen on the desk while she waited for her mom’s reaction. She’d given her spiel, staying calm and assertive, and now she braced herself for the blowup.
Sitting behind her father’s massive desk had done strange things to her ego. At first, she’d felt so small and inexperienced, but wearing the power suit and heels Chloe had picked out with her, and raising the chair a bit, helped. Now she focused on the feeling of strength and power that imbued her father’s spot. She remembered the years he’d spent there, working all hours to provide for his family and uphold the values he’d built his company on. He wasn’t all about the money.
The company provided blankets to the city homeless shelters, it gave employees paid extended parental leave and excellent benefits, it funded summer camp for disadvantaged youth. She couldn’t let that go. Everyone the company served needed her and she wasn’t going to let them down. If she’d sold the company, would the new owners have been as benevolent and giving as her dad? Maybe not, and it would have been her fault their employees suffered for it.
Lorna, sitting in the chair on the other side of the desk, huffed and smoothed back her hair before she spoke. “Well . . . If that’s really what you want to do, I guess I can’t stop you.”
Finally, she was coming around. Money talked.
“Okay,” Ophelia said, trying to sound confident instead of as nervous and uncertain as she felt. “I’ll have the lawyer draw up the paperwork.”
She’d told her mom she wasn’t selling the company, but planned to run it herself, with help from trusted advisors. And then she’d offered her mom a large settlement if she agreed to stay out of things. Basically, she was paying her to shut up.
But apparently, the idea worked for her.
Lorna cracked a small smile and straightened her shoulders. “Sweetheart . . .” Her face pinched like what she was about to say pained her. “I hope you don’t take any of this personally. It’s just . . . business.”
Ophelia snorted to herself. Sweetheart? So someone was having a little crisis of conscience. Good. If she acted like a mom instead of a gold digger, maybe they could actually have a relationship.
