“Mr. Black,” Beau says, “I assure you that—”
“Stop it. Stop it right now. You thought you could get to me through Skye. You have no idea who you’re dealing with. Skye has more intelligence in her right hand than the two of you have together.”
A little warmth creeps up my neck. I love how much Braden believes in me. Still, I’m glad he showed up.
Really glad.
“She is formidable,” Beau agrees, “but does she have this?”
I suck in a breath when Beau pulls out a pistol. Braden’s body tenses, but only I notice, since I’m touching him.
Has he been held at gunpoint before?
I haven’t, and the way my heart is beating and my skin prickling with fear, it’s not something I ever want to repeat.
But Braden is in control. So very in control.
“Put that away, Beau,” he says. “You and I both know you’re not man enough to actually use it.”
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
What if Braden’s wrong? What if that gun goes off? Right into our bodies?
God, Braden! Everything turns black and ugly all at once. The man I love could be gone with one pull of a trigger. I should step in front of Braden. Save him. But my feet won’t move. They’re mired in concrete. And then this maniac could turn on me next. I can’t lose Braden. And I don’t want to die. I’m too young. My life is just beginning. I have the most wonderful career in the world, the most wonderful man in the world, the most—
Quicker than a flash, Braden executes some kind of kick, sending the gun flying out of Beau’s hand and sliding across the marble floor of the lobby until it stops against a wall.
“Don’t even think about it,” Braden says, as Peter eyes the gun. “We both know you don’t have the balls.”
Peter’s face goes pale, and his eyes… Damn. Are those tears welling in the bottom of his eyes?
How was I ever attracted to this asshole?
“We don’t want trouble,” Beau says.
“You don’t? You always threaten people with a gun when you don’t want trouble? And by the way, my security has been back up since I arrived, so I’ve got you dead to rights for assault with a deadly weapon. Plus what you’ve done to Skye.”
“We didn’t hurt her,” Beau says.
“You threatened her. You disabled the elevator so she couldn’t get away from you. Believe me. I’ll make charges stick.”
“Fuck you,” Peter says.
“Shut up, Peter,” his father commands. “We’ll just forget this happened.”
“I’m afraid not,” Braden says. “The cops are already on their way. You’re both going to be arrested.”
“We didn’t hurt anyone,” Peter says.
“You scared Skye. You threatened my doorman, and you held Skye and me at gunpoint. Plus, you’ve been drugging women for years.”
“You can’t prove that.”
“I can. Ms. Logan and Ms. Davis are both willing to press charges against you”—he eyes Peter—“and Mr. Ramirez. But Mr. Ramirez will walk. You want to know why?”
Peter looks like he’s about to hurl, but Beau remains calm. On the outside, at least.
“Probably because he hasn’t done anything,” Beau says.
“To the contrary. I approached him after Ms. Logan was hospitalized. All it took was a little prodding and he sang like a coloratura soprano. How he and your son drugged Ms. Logan and Ms. Davis with substances you provided them. How you’ve been drugging clients for years to get them to sign contracts with your firm.”
“You can’t prove any of that.”
“I can,” Braden says, “and I will.”
“What do you even care?” Peter demands. “You have everything. Why don’t you just stay out of our lives!”
“I did, for many years. I shouldn’t have, but I did. Until it hit close to home. Tessa Logan and Betsy Davis are Skye’s friends, and consequently they’re important to me.” He looks down at me. “I’m sorry it took me so long to put a stop to this. If I’d done it when I first suspected, Tessa and Betsy wouldn’t have been in any position to be taken advantage of.”
“It’s not your fault,” I tell him. “No one asked you to save the world.”
“That’s what I’ve always told myself. But I was wrong. What good is my fortune if I don’t use it to help others?”
Peter drops to the floor. “Please. It’s all my dad. I never wanted to do any of this. But he—”
“Get up, you sniveling piece of shit.” Beau scoffs. “I’m embarrassed to have you for a son.”
As angry as I am, I can’t help feeling sorry for Peter in that moment. Being raised by Beau Reardon couldn’t have been any kind of picnic.
Sirens blare in the distance, and two patrol cars pull up to the building. Five blues enter, and Beau and Peter are cuffed and charged, their Miranda rights read.
Everything passes in a blur as the cops take both Beau and Peter away.