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“I told Myron to fire the son of a bitch, but he said he couldn’t. He explained to me that the guy who lost him is his son.” Winston’s expression is grim.
Shit. That family tie is hard to break.
I should know. Every time I’ve screwed up and given my brother a chance to fire me, he never does. Though I haven’t done something like that in a long time.
“He needs to hire someone else then,” I mutter, reaching for my phone, ready once again to warn Charlotte, but maybe I should tell it to her face instead. She doesn’t need to be sitting at home stressing about this. “I should leave. Go home to Charlotte and tell her that asshole is trying to come around here.”
I need to protect her. Watch over her and never let her out of my sight.
“She’s not home,” Winston says nonchalantly.
I push away from my desk and stand, grabbing my phone and shoving it into my pocket, irritated at Winston’s response. “And how the hell do you know where my wife is?”
“She’s with our sister, that’s how I know. And our mother,” Winston mutters, shaking his head. “I’ve got security on all three of them. They had lunch, and now they’re shopping. With two guards following their every step.”
Charlotte did mention she was going shopping with my sister today, and like the ass I am, I completely forgot. “Mom is with them too?”
Winston nods. “She crashed their party. Called me when she was headed to the restaurant.”
“How did she—” I clamp my lips shut, not bothering to finish my question. I’d rather not know how she figured out Tins and Charlotte were together. “You sent security to follow them then?”
“Fuck yes, I did. The moment I got off the phone with Myron after he told me about McTiernan, I called them in. You’d do it for Ash if you found something out before I did,” Winston says with a shrug.
True. He’s right. But he always finds out stuff first. I never do.
“Thanks for watching out for her,” I say gruffly, meaning my wife. “I don’t trust that asshole.”
“Neither do I. He might do just about anything to get close to her,” Winston says grimly. “Maybe even hurt our mother or sister.”
I clench my hands into fists. “I hate him.”
“I know.” Winston pauses. “Don’t tell her about this.”
“Don’t tell who? My wife?” I don’t want to keep secrets from her. She’d be pissed if she found out, and I want us to be open with each other. “I have to, Winny. She deserves to know.”
“Sometimes what we don’t know can protect us. Why scare her?”
“Maybe now is when we call in the authorities,” I suggest.
“And let them turn this into a complete fiasco? Give McTiernan a leg up so he goes into hiding? I don’t think so.” Winston shakes his head.
I think of all the murderous plans I had for Seamus McTiernan—that is the first time in a while that I’ve thought of his entire name without turning it into a derogatory insult—and I don’t know what I would want to do first.
“If I caught him myself, I might want to kill him,” I say.
“I wouldn’t blame you if you did.” Winston shrugs.
I gape at him, shocked he’s going along with me. “You were the one who said I couldn’t murder anyone. You didn’t want to see me end up in jail.”
“Still don’t want to see that, but is it really necessary to bring the police in? They will only make things messy. And you seem a little more under control when it comes to this asshole. You’ll show restraint. At first.”
At first. Until we take him somewhere more private, more remote.
And then I’ll shoot the fucker right between the eyes. Or bash his head in with a club. Maybe I should stab him in the chest, right where his heart should be? Choke him out?
The possibilities are truly endless, and every single one of them appeals. I’m anxious to take him out once and for all.
Looking forward to having the chance.
