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Josh
Emmy’s grip on my hand is tight. I’m afraid she’s going to cut off the circulation in my damn fingers. It’s admirable how she feels like she’s doing something wrong. Maybe to some people it would seem wrong to sneak into the house your brother lives in. I just don’t give a fuck. The way the McKinley trust works is everyone has their shares. I inherited the majority shares, so in actuality, I own the majority of this house.
Besides, I’m not afraid of getting caught. I have a secret weapon up my sleeve when it comes to handling my brother now. She comes in the form of a brunette spitfire, who can literally kick my ass. Ella. Yep, my brother’s new bride happens to be very fond of me. She’d never boot me out of here, or let Dean try to either.
I could have walked through the front door, but what would be the fun in that? Besides, I want Emmy to myself for a bit. I need time to process what the fuck I’m going to do about this fucking cop who seems to be able to get into my penthouse. A penthouse in a building that is meant to have state-of-the-fucking-art biometric security measures in place. Not to mention, the fucking armed guards who are on my payroll. How the fuck is this fucker getting past all of that?
I squeeze Emily’s hand a little, attempting to reassure her that she is okay. That we are okay. We will be okay. I will find a way to fix this. Walking down the hallway, I go left, heading to the east wing of the house. A wing that no one ever goes into, apart from me. This has always been my sanctuary when we had to stay in this house, as well as during the countless times I’ve stumbled in here drunk off my ass, making Dean handle my shit for me when I was too fucking wasted to do anything.
There were a few years after I made Emily leave town where I was wrecked. I drank every night, took whatever drug I could get my hands on, anything that would make me forget. And when you’re an eighteen-year-old billionaire, there is no such thing as a drug you can’t get your hands on.
For around a year and a half, I drank until I could forget. The only problem? It never fucking worked. No matter how much I drank, what drug I took, every time I closed my eyes, I could see her. She was in every shadow of every corner. Some nights, I’d sneak into the school and sit at the table where we first met. I’d wait like she’d walk through the doors again and we could have a second chance. I could redo everything and just claim her from that first moment.
I probably wouldn’t have snapped out of it, had Dean not locked me in a fucking cell for a whole damn month. Yes, literally locked me in the fucking basement to dry me out. He kept me fed, clothed. I had all the luxuries I could want for. Just not the alcohol or drugs I used as a bandage. It worked. By the time he let me out, I had come to terms with my fuck up.
I would live the rest of my life regretting my decision to run her out of town. But I have her back now, and I will slaughter anything I conceive as a fucking threat. Finally getting to the door of my room here, I push it open (expecting the room to be empty), only to find my fucking brother sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting with a fucking grin I’d like to slap off his face.
“You’re losing your touch. I knew before you even made it to the building.” He laughs.
“Yeah, well, I had to adjust my route and pace. Can we not do this now? I’ve got shit I need to do.” Pulling Emily into the room, I cling to her hand, afraid if I let go, she’ll run the other way. I know my brother scares her. I don’t fucking understand why, but he does, so I hold her hand tighter.
“I’m sure you do.” Dean looks at Emily and then pulls his phone out of his pocket.
“El, can you come up to Josh’s room?” We only hear one side of the conversation, but after a few back and forwards, he hangs up—right before the door bursts open.
“Josh, you’re here?” Ella comes up and hugs me before slapping me on the chest, to which, I swear I hear Emily growl. I pull her tight against me, wrapping my arm around her shoulder.
“Ella, why don’t you take Emily to the kitchen and get her a drink,” Dean says.
Ella spins around, hands on her hips. Whatever she was about to say falls dead on her lips as Dean adds a “please” to his demand.
“Well, since you said please and all, but just so you know, I’m not doing this because you told me to. I’d much rather hang out with her than you two anyway.” Ella stomps her foot as she spins back around and tugs on Emily’s arm. “Come on, let’s get some coffee. Have you eaten breakfast yet?”
Emily looks back to me for guidance on what she should do. I hate seeing her so insecure and indecisive. I give her a slight nod. “I’ll meet you down in the kitchen in a few. Save me some bacon.”
“Okay.” Emily gives a small smile back.
“I wasn’t offering to cook for you, Josh,” Ella adds as they both walk out the door.
I turn back to face Dean. Leaning against the wall, I fold my arms over my chest and wait. I’ll stand here and wait him out. Whatever he’s got to say, I’m sure it’s going to piss me off, which is why he had Ella take Emily out of the room.
Dean attempts to stare me down for a few minutes, silently, before he gives in and shakes his head. “Do you want to explain why I had a cop at the club looking for Emily?” he asks.
My back goes ramrod stiff. Did this fucker tell them she was with me? I’ll fucking kill him, brother or not. If he’s put Emily at any kind of risk, I’ll enjoy choking the life out of his fat neck.
“Relax. Put your fucking murderous thoughts away. I didn’t tell them anything. I would like to know why we’re apparently hiding out a fugitive though.” He raises his eyebrow at me.
“She’s not a fucking fugitive. And don’t worry about it. I’ll fix it. It doesn’t concern you.”
“It doesn’t concern me?” Dean stands and starts pacing the room. “That’s where you’re wrong. It concerns you, which means it very much concerns me. What exactly are you planning on doing, Josh? I’d like a heads up if my little brother’s planning a killing spree, targeting every detective out looking for his girl.”
“I’m not going to kill every detective in the country, idiot. I don’t have that sort of time. Besides, there’s only one looking for her.” I shrug. One who I very much intend on feeding to my damn pigs. Would that make my pigs cannibals? Because they’d be eating a pig?
“Why does she have one detective looking for her. What’d she do?” he asks.
I consider not telling him. This isn’t really my secret to tell after all. But for some reason, I spill the beans. “She killed her husband.” I shrug, with a huge grin on my face. I’m fucking damn proud of Emily for doing what she did. That takes guts. It’s one thing to have thoughts of killing someone, but to actually go through with it is a whole other level.
“The fact that you’re grinning about that is fucking weird, even for you.”
