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I swiveled on my heel to face Donovan. “Stalling tactics. So original.” I let my seething rage filter into my voice and he had the sense to back the fuck off my doorway.
“Wait up, man. It’s not like that. You know your brother? Damn, does that boy look like you. I thought he was you, at first. Bet a pretty buck so did she.” His slimy grin sent a ripple of alarm down my spine.
“Brandon was here?” Shit. She could have gone with him. She had gone with him, who was I kidding? And knowing what she did about him, it likely wasn’t under her own steam. Unless he told her a happy lie. Maybe she was okay. Maybe I’d get a call any second.
My feet rooted to the spot as I flipped my phone in my hand, focusing on the sole target before me, recognising it for what it was. My brother left me a sacrificial message. How sweet.
I half smiled. “He’s a conniving bastard, my brother. He’s a bit of a trickster, so easy to buy into his plans.” I held out an arm, motioning Donovan into my one armed embrace, and the poor fucker came along like a toy dog on a string.
My toy.
Jesus, I prayed she was alive. If she wasn’t...fuck it. I’d kill him anyway. My stomach cramped at that, a wave of nausea rocking me on my heels. Fuck knows what Donovan took that guttural response for, but it got the asshole talking.
“Yeah, man. You bro’s gold. Hear he’s taking on the family business. You know, I see myself as an entrepreneur. Don’t need to follow in Daddy’s footsteps, after all. I can help, do some dirty work. Play with the big boys–”
I snapped his neck somewhere betweenplayandbig, the final word falling from his preprogrammed lips as his life always flitted away, and his empty carcass hit the floor.
“The fuck, man?” Dylan appeared in my doorway less than a second after Donovan’s body fell to the plush carpet.
“He gave Sylvie to my brother. He’ll kill her after he plays with his food.” I tried not to turn green and didn’t succeed.
Honestly, the fucking frog lied. This shit wasn’t fun.
I didn’t bother to mention the father factor. Dylan knew my history. He and Nate were the only ones, and that was due to a particularly late bottle of tequila and a training session from hell with the new coach the next day.
“Fuck.” Dylan swept a hand through his hair. “What’dya need?”
Fuck, I loved this man like a real brother.
“Nate. He owes me a favor. I’m calling it in. I need you to stay here and corral this shit.” I nudged the body on the floor. “I’ll call my father’s cleaners. He was never supposed to live and I suspect he’s not even a true Rippton recruit.”
“Right.” Dylan rubbed his jaw and cracked his back. “Gonna need a case of that personal label Japanese whisky shit you drink after the fact.”
“Yeah, done.” I didn’t question it. “Get me Nate. He’ll have to make it up to his girl another time.”
Dylan’s mouth formed a hard line. “He’ll deal. He loves Sylvie, too. Like a sister, man. Fuck, you’ve got it bad. No wonder your dad caught on.”
I swallowed hard. “That obvious, huh?”
“Just a bit.”
“Fine. Make the call.” I grabbed my jacket and reached into my walk in robe, picking out a pair of American Joe matching handguns with roughened grips that felt right in my hands. “I’ll be down stairs, waiting.”
“Gonna take the limo?”
“Fuck, no. Tell him he’s driving.”
“He’ll love that.”
Dylan’s hollow laughter followed me down the stairs. I didn’t give a shit if Nate wanted to fucking drive or not. We were going to reclaim my girl.
