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Chapter Sixty-One
RORY
Charles’s downfall is all over the news and has spread across social media. No one is talking about the motel murder anymore. In fact, Charles’s demise has only brought more press to the Dixen brothers with requests for interviews after information about Charles trying to sabotage them was leaked. It means it’s been a crazy few days. We barely have time to relax between running the business and doing loads of interviews, not to mention the guys are in the process of decimating the rest of Charles’s empire so those who know he did this know never to mess with us again.
As an added bonus, Charles can watch his empire fall from behind a set of cold bars in his jail cell.
I work in their offices, listening to the meetings and calls and reading the numerous emails. Most of my time is devoted to keeping all their appointments straight, making sure each email is responded to and every call returned. The Dixens bought all of Charles’s companies, subsidiaries, houses, and cars. They bought everything he owned as if it was just spare change. They even took over his illegal operation and, pretending to help the police, turned it over so no one opposes them.
But one thing they did really pulled at my heart and made me fall even more in love with them. They took care of Charles’s wife and kids who had nothing to do with his grimy operations. They made sure they had access to his legal money, ensured they had a home to live in, and that they’d never want for anything for the rest of their lives.
The Dixens come off like angels to the media, like good, hardworking businessmen looking out for the city. In reality, they are gangsters who made this happen with strategic moves. They sent a lawyer in to represent Charles, one of their own, as a show of their power. It’s safe to say it was not well received.
I thought they owned this city before, but I was wrong. They own it now, down to the streets people drive on. They are the kings, and I’m their queen. Our secrets bind us together forever—blood in, blood out.
After another long day of fielding calls and emails while the guys disappeared to check out newly acquired buildings and companies, I log off and head down to the parking garage. I chose to continue working with them, not under them, because I want to, not because I have to. I’m not a personal assistant there to spy any longer, I’m their partner. Now I assist Rogan with math, Alastair with relations, and Maddox with security. They asked me to be there, and I’m excited to sink my teeth in and do something I’m good at with their trust.
I’ve just slipped into the smooth leather seat of my car and started the engine when a text comes through. My car reads it for me. It’s an address and nothing else. It suggests adding it to the navigation system, so I do, and then I immediately head there, knowing if they texted it to me, then it must be important. Maybe it’s a house or company building they want my opinion on. Who knows, but excitement stirs within me as I pull out into the late afternoon sun. Thank God it’s not rush hour and I finished a little early after starting at dawn.
I navigate traffic and drive toward the rural houses and mansions on the outskirts of the city. The hustle and bustle of the city fades to a quiet, idyllic neighborhood. I glance at the GPS and frown. Where are we going? Shit, did they buy a house or something? They kept mentioning they needed one so they didn’t have to squeeze into my bed with Mischief every night. Knowing them, they probably bought the whole fucking street.
I finally get to the address. It has large golden gates, but when I drive up, they open. I slow down as the driveaway stretches before me. I can’t see a house, but each side of the driveway is lined with built-in lights as it winds beneath beautiful evergreen trees, their pine needles doused with freshly fallen snow. I keep driving, and when I finally break from the trees, my mouth drops open. Before me is an old, plantation-style mansion that’s been beautifully updated, with large windows and double doors. In the center of the grounds, a statue of holding hands greets me, and waiting there are my men, leaning against Rogan’s car. I pull up behind them, get out, and walk over, more curious than ever before at what they’ve got up their sleeves.
It’s Alistair who gives it away. He’s grinning from ear to ear, barely able to look at me, and I know he’s struggling to keep some kind of secret. This isn’t just some old house to purchase.
“What is this?” I ask with another glance at the building.
“A hospital,” Alistair answers almost giddily.
“For your brother,” Maddox adds.
Rogan watches me to see my reaction. “We bought it. It’s a private facility. He will have the best care in the world and the whole place to himself. No more worrying about proper doctors or paying for bills. He has his own nurses and doctors and free run of the place while being kept clean, safe, and as healthy as possible.”
I gape at them in shock. I asked for their help, but how did they arrange this so suddenly? “I can’t—I… When? You did this for me?” is all I can whisper.
“We would do anything for you,” Maddox replies instantly as Ali takes my hands and pulls me after him. We walk around the side of the house to see rolling green acres, a greenhouse, a swimming pool, and an outdoor gym. There’s even a flower garden with a towering bronze waterfall where my brother is currently walking in brand-new clothes with a nurse at his side. His face is relaxed, and he almost appears normal and healthy.
“He’s here?” I ask quietly, my heart beating wildly against my ribs. I want to race over, but I don’t because he probably won’t remember me. I shouldn’t, even though I ache to hold him, to see that smile reserved just for me, but that man is long gone. Yet I step forward without thought, drawn to my brother like always.
“He is, go, we can discuss everything else after,” Rogan urges, and Ali pushes me forward, releasing my hand. Swallowing, I glance back at them nervously before tugging on my white sweater dress, my heels sinking into the snow as I walk over to him. I’m so nervous, afraid of which Mitch I’ll get today, but I can’t resist.
That child in me still aches for her older brother, for her lost family.
The nurse notices me coming and smiles warmly as she leads him to a stone bench facing the foundation, the sun shining on him from the side. I suck in a deep breath to steady my nerves, and the scent of fresh snow and the glow of Christmas lights decorating the evergreens calms me even further. How can such a beautiful place hold anything sad or tragic? Maybe things will be different here.
Maybe we can be a family again and I can get my brother back. It’s my one last hope, one that’s dashed away when I sit next to him and he turns to face me. He’s frowning, angry, and looking at me with a blank stare. I shiver and avert my gaze, focusing on the fountain. It hurts me to sit here while he stares at me like a stranger or someone he hates, but I can’t help myself. I’m a glutton for punishment, always desperate for his love.
“Who are you?” he demands, but he doesn’t attack me, which is good. He seems calmer, more in control, but he doesn’t remember me. I sag, wanting to melt into the stone in embarrassment at how fucking naïve I am. Every time I expect it to be different, and every time I get hurt, yet I will always come. I will always be there for him because he’s my brother, even when he doesn’t remember, and because there was a time when I was a terrified little girl and he was there for me.
I open my mouth to respond but lose my voice. If I tell him who I am, will it hurt him more? But lying to him will hurt me too. There’s no way to win this situation, so we sit in silence as he runs his gaze over me before one hushed word escapes his mouth.
“Munchkin?”
I turn my head, meeting his eyes hopefully as I hold my breath. “Mitch, it’s me, that’s me,” I rush out.
“Munchkin, it’s really you? You’re here? I’ve been looking for you for so long.” Tears fill his eyes as he reaches out, hand shaking, and cups my cheek before dropping it as if he’s unsure. I grab his hand and hold it to me. Tears of my own fill my eyes and overflow, wetting my lashes as I blink them away to see him for as long as I can. Him, my brother, not the person the drugs have made him.
“I’ve been here all along, you just got lost for a while,” I reply.
