Be My Hero(70)

He lifted an eyebrow. "And you'll come back with me? Just like that?"

"I have a few more stipulations."

His eyes narrowed slightly. "Like what?"

"My daughter doesn't come with me. She stays here with Reese. And you  never have anything to do with either of them, nor do you let them have  any contact with me."

I bit the inside of my lip hard to keep my chin from quivering and my  eyes from tearing. But that had been the hardest thing to let go of. My  Skylar. It went against every instinct inside me to leave my baby  behind. But no way would I let her grow up anywhere near him. And the  only way to get her out of his life for good was to sacrifice myself.  This would be best for both of my babies. Reese and Pick, and even  Mason, would take care of them, and love them exactly how I wanted them  to be loved. And none of them would ever have to worry about Bradshaw or  Garrison again. They'd be free to live the rest of their lives in  peace.

"Hmm," he murmured, stapling his fingers as he studied me. "I wasn't  expecting that one. I thought you'd grown rather fond of your brat, but  fine, I'll gladly allow that condition." His lips quirked smugly.  "Next?"

"Fire that bitch you hired to torment Mason. And keep her away from him."

Bradshaw shot an amused glance toward Mrs. Garrison. "She won't go willingly, but I'll enjoy pulling her away. Anything else?"

"Yes. Make sure Pick keeps his son."

My father lifted his eyebrows. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."         

     



 

I snorted. "Bullshit. You know everything there is to know about him. And you know what Julian means to him."

"Oh, you're referring to the little crack whore's baby. That son. Yes,  I'm fully aware he could lose the child if I made one small phone call  to Social Services. It's a shame, really. I doubt any foster parent  would care for the kid as much as your young man has. Though I'd never  allow such a character to remain associated with my daughter, he does  seem to be a good father."

He was the best father ever.

God, I was going to miss Pick, Skylar, Julian, Reese, damn, even Mason.  But I'd do this. For a chance to keep them safe, I'd do this in a  heartbeat.

"Then help him remain a good father."

Bradshaw chuckled and rocked back in his chair. "Really, darling. I don't see how I could do that."

"I don't care how you do it. Falsify a birth certificate with his name  on it. Create adoption records. Don't tell me you can't do it. I know  better."

"Okay, fine. You're right. I can do such a thing." His chest bowed out, showing me how proud he was of his illegal powers.

I rolled my eyes. "Then do it."

"And you'll come back?"

When I nodded, Quinn made a sound from his perch on the wall. I glanced  at him, but he seemed preoccupied with whatever he was doing on his  phone.

Mrs. Garrison laughed out a harsh sound. "Oh, please. Tell me you're not serious about meeting all her silly little conditions."

My father glanced at her. "I'm dead serious, Patricia. This is exactly why I came here."

Garrison sniffed, only to have her face leach of color when she seemed  to realize just how serious he was. "No," she whispered. "Bradshaw,  please don't do this." Hurrying to him, she fell to her knees in front  of his chair and ran her hands up his thighs toward his lap.

He caught her wrists and pulled her claws away from him, clucking his  tongue. "Really, Patricia. Don't be so unseemly. Besides, you're not  that good of a fuck to sway me on this."

After he pushed her aside, openly dismissing her, he unfolded what I  guessed was the deed to the club. Waving his pen, he grinned. "You know,  I assumed you'd ask to have the club put into your own name. But I  guess your heart is softer than I ever took it for. That's . . .  disappointing. Nevertheless, it doesn't matter to me who it goes to.  Getting you back under my roof is all that matters."

As he signed away the nightclub to Pick, Mrs. Garrison clutched her hair  and screamed. "No! You can't do this. You made me a promise. I let you  do all that shit to me. What about Mason?"

Bradshaw sighed and rolled his eyes as if extremely tired of her  theatrics. "You were a means to an end, Patricia. And I don't give a  shit about your little prostitute. My daughter wants you to stay away  from him, so you're going to stay away from him."

"But-"

"You're dismissed," he cut in, glaring at her. "Get out."

Screeching out an inhuman shriek, Garrison tore across the room toward her purse.

I had no idea what she was after until she opened the top clasp and yanked out a gun.

I opened my mouth to scream. Bradshaw opened his mouth to yell. Quinn  pushed away from the wall, his eyes wide with horror. And Mrs. Garrison  lifted the barrel, pointing it at my father's head.

"No one tells me what to do, you son of a bitch."

"No," he bellowed just before she pulled the trigger.

Watching his head explode imprinted itself in my retinas. It was  something I'd never be able to un-see. Mrs. Garrison whirled to me, her  eyes crazed and livid. She raised the gun in my direction, and my life  flashed before my eyes. Pick, Skylar, Julian, Reese. They were finally  free.

But shit, I didn't want to die.

Two-hundred and forty pounds of football player tackled me from the  side, driving me to the floor as the gun went off. I screamed and landed  hard, cracking my head against cold tile with Quinn piling on top of  me. As he tightened his arms around me, shielding me from head to toe,  my ears rang, my head swam, and my vision went fuzzy.

Just as Quinn went dead weight, a voice yelled, "Patricia!"

Though I was still seeing stars and couldn't focus properly, I saw a  blurry image of Mrs. Garrison over Quinn's shoulder as she whirled  toward the doorway of the office.

"Mason?" she gasped, her voice stunned as her gun aimed his way.

"Jesus, Patricia. What did you just do?"

He'd ducked back into the hallway but stayed right outside the door with  his back pressed to the wall. I could see the corner of his shoulder  from where I lay.

"I . . . I . . . he made me. He was taking you away from me again.  Taking me away from this bar. I worked so hard to get him to buy this  place and let me manage it. I let him . . . I let him do so much to me.  And now he just wants to take it all away. Take you away? Just like  that? No fucking way."         

     



 

"But you just shot someone. Are you insane?"

"I was so tired of waiting. I missed you." Mrs. Garrison's chin trembled  and tears filled her eyes. "You don't know what he did to me. Oh God,  Mason. The things he made me do so I could get to you . . . "

Mason's answer was dry and unimpressed. "Were they anything like the  things you made me do with you? Yeah, excuse me if I don't feel sorry  for you."

Mrs. Garrison's mouth worked in shock. "That . . . that's not the same  thing. You liked what we did." When he didn't answer, she let out a  noisy, wet sob. "Didn't you?"

"Why don't you put the gun down, and then come out here to talk to me?"

"Why don't you answer my fucking question?" Mrs. Garrison screamed and stomped her feet.

On top of me, Quinn's weight seemed to grow heavier. When I felt  something wet trickle over my arm, I looked up into his face, but his  eyes were closed. Oh, shit. Not Quinn.

Turning my gaze toward Mason, he shifted just enough so I could see his  face. He met my gaze as he answered Mrs. Garrison. "No. I didn't like  it."

"Yes!" She wailed, stomping her feet some more and dancing around like  the whack job she was. "You did too. You loved it. You loved it as much  as I did."

At the desk, Bradshaw remained slumped backward in his chair with more  than I'd ever wanted to see of his insides splattered on the wall behind  him.

I closed my eyes and shuddered, holding Quinn a little tighter and  hoping he was okay. A surreal sense of shock blanketed me, making  everything fuzzy and dreamlike, even Mrs. Garrison's ranting as she  sobbed, "You loved it, and you love me."

Mason's voice was steady as he said, "I love Reese."

"No!"

I'm not sure what he was trying to accomplish, but if he wanted to  agitate her and send her into an even crazier, raving fit, he was  totally succeeding. I kind of wondered if Mason was on a suicide  mission, trying to get us all killed. But at least I'd be able to tell  Reese later on how he never wavered from his feelings for her, not even  to patronize a cracked, wild woman.

That was, if I survived long enough to see Reese again.

When police sirens rang from outside, Mrs. Garrison freaked. "Oh, God.  Oh, God. Oh, God." She pointed the gun toward Bradshaw, but he was  already long gone. Shuffling with indecision, she glanced my way, but I  think she only saw Quinn's prone form slumped on top of me and the blood  pooling under us. "Oh, God," she moaned. "What do I do?"