I stumbled back a step.
The information hittin’ me like a slap of betrayal.
Why wouldn’t Royce tell me he was related to him? After everything we’d shared, I would have thought that would have been simple information he would have given me.
Something about it felt . . . off.
Way off, the tidal wave of unease that had been gathering since we’d gotten to this house gaining speed.
Confused and taken aback, my gaze drifted to Royce.
He slowly shook his head in a silent apology before he tore his attention away and pinned it on Mr. Fitzgerald. Instantly, his expression turned savage, deadly as he stood there clearly trying to keep from throwing himself over the desk to enact his rage on the man who was glowering back.
Smug satisfaction on his face.
As if he’d just put Royce in his place.
Hostility raged in the confines of the room, and the rest of the band was shifting in the disorder. Not sure what was going down. But I think each of us knew it was bad.
“You are dismissed,” Karl Fitzgerald told Royce, rocking back in the executive chair like he was the commander and the executioner. “Permanently.”
My heart clutched, gaze swinging to Royce, expecting him to be devastated.
Instead, a vengeful smirk pulled to his face. “I’m afraid you don’t get to make those decisions anymore, Father.” He spit it like a curse.
“Excuse me? Who do you think you’re talking to?”
Royce just lifted his chin. That was right before the door behind us banged open, and two men in suits followed by about ten uniformed officers barged in.
A stampede of aggression.
One of the men held a huge file folder, and the other flashed his badge.
Stunned, I looked back at Royce.
Those dark eyes flashed.
Remorse and destruction.
And I got the sinking feeling he was about to destroy me.Twenty-SixRoyceA ripple of confusion and fear and betrayal bounded against the walls the second the office doors banged open and Pete, Detective Casile, and an army of armed officers stormed in.
I held fast, needing to see the bewilderment shift to ire in my stepfather’s expression. I wanted to witness the second he realized I’d been coming for him the whole time.
The moment he knew he was going down in flames.
Couldn’t stand it for long, the pull too great, and my gaze was getting drawn to Emily.
The girl a magnet.
Jade eyes darkened, swimming with distrust. The girl watched me like she was begging me to give her a good reason for my treachery. For not preparing her for what was coming when it was plain as day I’d known this was going down.
That this had been a setup.
To answer all the questions spiraling through that sweet, tender gaze.
It was bad enough when she found out I was Fitzgerald’s stepson. Info I hadn’t let her in on because it’d seemed too risky. Like if I let her get too close this would all fall apart.
I knew what was coming next would be a breaking point.
She’d never forgive me.
My guts tangled in regret. In another bout of loss.
I wished I could have done it differently.
But it had to come to this.
I needed that contract signed.
“What the fuck is this?” the bastard demanded, pushing to stand, shuffling the contract together on the desk.
I slammed my hand down on the papers, sneered his direction. “Not so fast. I think we’re going to need these.”
He struggled to rip the contract out from under my hand.
I snagged it up before he could get a chance.
All the men of Carolina George stood, trying to prepare themselves for the unexpected, confused and agitated.
Their manager, Angela, dropped her face into her hands and started to sob. She knew what was in that contract. The contract that had been altered since the last time the band had reviewed it.
But she was cooperating, knew not to say a word that would possibly tip Fitzgerald off to what was getting ready to go down. Willing to testify to save her ass.
Greedy bitch.
She probably wouldn’t even see a jail cell.
Couldn’t say the same for my stepfather.
Pete and Detective Casile moved deeper into the room.
The asshole glared. “Peter . . . what the hell are you doing here?”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Pete said, quirking a smirk that promised he wasn’t sorry at all. He was lanky and thin, in his forties, held down by Karl Fitzgerald’s thumb for so many years that it was about time he finally came out from under it.
A dissenter.
Standing with me in this objection. He’d borne witness to more shady shit than any of us. He’d worked for Fitzgerald for the last ten years as his personal assistant. Once he realized how the company was really run, he’d started collecting evidence and feeding it to Detective Casile. We’d waited until we’d been certain we had enough proof to make sure Karl and Cory went down for a long, long time.