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I shattered inside. This time he truly meant to kill me. I felt it in the marrow of my bones.
Melanie, I said in my mind. I love you. I will never stop loving you. Teach our child about me. Tell him how much I love him.
The thought of never seeing my child killed me.
And now… It would fall to Melanie and Talon to get the DNA test and tell Ryan the truth.
They were strong. They would handle it. Melanie would have our baby, and she would be a wonderful mother, even without my help.
“I’m so sorry,” I said aloud.
“Your apology won’t get you anywhere now, Joe.”
I jerked back to reality. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
Then a shrill sound met my ears.
Tom nearly jumped out of his skin, and I took advantage and rammed my body into his, knocking the gun loose from his grip. It landed with a thud on the carpeting.
I inhaled. Smoke. The sound was coming from one of the fire detectors. In the kitchen. The refried beans were bur
ning. While Tom was still disoriented, I grabbed the gun and pointed it at his head.
“Looks like the game has changed,” I said through clenched teeth.
“You can’t kill me, Joe. You don’t have it in you.”
I gripped the handle of the gun. “Try me.”
“You won’t do it.”
“You kidnapped, tortured, and raped my brother. You killed your own nephew. You tortured and raped Colin Morse, and God only knows what other heinous acts you’ve committed. Why shouldn’t I kill you?”
I glared at him, my body hot with rage. Redness pulsed around me. It would be so easy to put a bullet in his brain, to end the life of someone who no longer deserved to walk the streets alive.
“Think of Bryce. Your best friend. My son. I’m begging you now, Joe. Have mercy on an old man.”
I cocked the gun. “My mercy ran out long ago.”
Sirens blared in the distance. Tom looked around frantically.
“Hear that?” I said. “The cops are coming for you, Tom. Everyone knows about it now. What a degenerate you are. I don’t have to kill you. You’ll get the punishment you deserve. The torture you deserve. You know what they do to child molesters in prison? Have you visited Larry lately?”
Tom gulped audibly.
Seconds later, three armed officers burst into the house.
“You can put the gun down now, Joe,” Steve Dugan said. “We’ve got him.”
I lowered my arm, but Tom acted quickly.
He grabbed the gun out of my hand, and as I braced myself to be shot, a boom rang out into the room.
Tom lay on the floor of the kitchen, blood pouring out of his head, scarlet brain flesh glopped on the linoleum.
I gulped down acid. The bastard had killed himself.
“Shit.” Dugan motioned to one of the others. “Check him out. Make sure he’s gone.”
