“What the hell did you do to my sister?”
Stephen stood and came around his desk. “What are you talking about?”
“First I find her crying her eyes out and today she ends up in the hospital freaked out of her fucking mind!” Nick gave him a two-handed shove and his voice dropped to a growl. “What the hell did you do?”
His stomach tightened painfully and a million possibilities raced through his mind. “She’s in the hospital? Where?”
“Like I’d tell you.”
Matt strode calmly into Stephen’s office, past his concerned admin, hovering at the threshold. “Problem?”
“I’m warning you,” Nick said, ignoring Matt and stabbing a finger at his chest.
Matt uncrossed his arms and shifted closer.
“No.” Stephen held up his hand against Matt’s intervention. He’d earned the man’s anger.
Nick closed his hands into fists and stepped back, looking at Stephen like he was too disgusting to touch.
He knew Hannah was upset, had been racking his brain all night and day for what he could say to make up for not saying a damn thing when he should have, but…she was in the hospital? “What happened?”
“None of your fucking business. She’s fine, she’s home. And she sure as hell doesn’t need you. Stay the hell away from my sister,” Nick spat, and stormed out of the office the same way he’d come in.
A moment of silence passed as the tension in the room dropped a notch.
“Another brother?” Matt asked, closing the door.
“Yeah.”
“Damn, dude. How many brothers does this girl have?”
“Four.”
“Well, you’re halfway through. You planning on pissing them off one by one?”
Stephen didn’t answer, just moved to the wet bar and poured himself a drink. He’d fought it, kept the minibar in here just to prove he could fight it. But he was done.
“Little early, isn’t it?”
“Nope.” Stephen raised the glass. “Little late, maybe.” He looked into his glass then stared out at the sky and pictured Hannah. She’d been so pale, so clammy when he’d touched her before she threw him off. He’d wanted to stop her pain, comfort her. But his feet hadn’t moved. The right words hadn’t come out.
And he’d wanted to kill someone. Still did. That monster he’d discovered inside himself reared its head.
Stephen spun and heaved the glass across the room. It shattered and the amber liquid dripped down the floor-to-ceiling windows. He was as helpless to stop it as he’d been at stopping Hannah’s tears. Exhausted, he leaned back against his desk, hands on his thighs.
Matt didn’t react other than to stand beside him and clap a hand on the back of his neck. He gave a squeeze of support. “Talk to me, man.”
Stephen’s chest felt too tight. His eyes and nose burned. The memories he wanted to drink away only crystallized. He’d never told anyone about the stupid fight he’d had with his fiancée just before she was murdered. Wasn’t sure why he felt the need to now. Stephen stared at his feet, at Matt’s right next to them, and shook his head as the past invaded the present.
“She didn’t want me to go to Brian’s bachelor party. She didn’t say it right out, that wasn’t her way, but I was already traveling so much, and…I snapped at her. I don’t know why, and we fought. I left without even saying I loved her.”
He’d called her the next day to apologize. And continued calling, thinking maybe she was ignoring him, maybe she was more pissed than he’d thought.
But when his phone finally rang, it was his dad. He needed to come home. Now. Those four hours on a flight from Vegas to Virginia were the longest of his life.
He’d soon found out there would be longer. Much longer.
“I didn’t feel anything. No sense something was wrong. No sense she was gone. Nothing.” He looked up at his brother. “How could I not feel something?”
Matt didn’t answer.
There was no answer. Not then, and not now. The only thing clear to him was that someone was going to die. And he was going to kill them.
He’d snapped in the courtroom, jumped the rail and gotten to one of them. Hands around his neck, squeezing, finally doing what he’d dreamed of. He’d felt the blows from the guards, the baton on his back and head. Heard the shouts, his mother crying. None of it mattered except the bulging eyes of that piece of shit who’d murdered the woman he’d loved. He wanted to see his fear. Wanted to feel the life drain out of him. To hell with the consequences. To hell with God and his laws.
“I wanted to kill him.”