Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
Ryan had slammed the receiver down so hard, he could still feel the pulse in his palm from the impact.
He was tempted to hurl the phone at the wall and smash it into pieces.
But instead, he stood there, collecting his breath, trying to calm himself.
He heard his mother’s voice from beyond the grave talking to him.
“You are my brave boy.” Had that ever happened in real life?
He couldn’t be sure, but he wanted to believe that it had.
Just as he wanted to accept the vague memories of her putting him to bed every night.
How she’d tap a kiss to his forehead before leaving his room.
You’re a fool to accept this… It’s all fantasy.
You’re nothing but a coward. Otherwise you would have killed everyone in this room.
The voice challenged him. It was tempting to give in, to prove himself.
But these Hansons, born with a silver spoon to their mouths, would suffer more if they were forced to live with their shame. Chicken! You’re pathetic.
“You can’t seriously be claiming you’re my brother?” Edward’s voice cut through, working in chorus with his inner critic.
Just shut up! He squeezed out both voices, remembering he was the one in charge here. The sooner the people in this room acknowledged that, the better it would be for them.
Ryan eyed the bar cart across the room again and went over.
He poured out a few fingers’ worth of the amber liquid from a crystal decanter into a rocks glass.
It was probably crystal too. He swung it back and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Then he threw the glass against the wall, watching it rain down in tiny shards.
The teenager was crying loudly, and the boy was still wheezing. At least the kid was still drawing air.
“Hello? Did you hear me?” Edward waved a hand in the air. “There’s no way you’re my brother. You’re insane to think anyone would believe that.”
“Edward,” his wife cautioned.
“No, no, it’s all right. Edward here is as delusional as the rest of you.
All of you sit up here in your gilded cage, looking down on everyone else.
But worse than that you put on the show of being beyond reproach, role models the world should emulate.
Well, I call bullshit on that!” Ryan walked over and put the gun on the back of Edward’s head.
He flicked the letter from his aunt on the man’s lap. “Read it all the way through.”
Ryan caught a silent exchange, a furtive glance, between Edward and his wife. But it had Edward lifting the letter.
Silence filled the room while Edward read. Like a collective inhale that was yet to be released.
What would the crazy man do next? What did he want? How would they get rid of him?
His thoughts made Ryan smile. This really was the most powerful he’d ever felt in his life. And the whiskey was acting as a friend, moving in to warm him and calm his mind.
Edward tossed the letter to the floor. “Rubbish. This Teresa woman is full of lies. We’re not brothers.”
“How dare you say her name and make such an accusation!” It didn’t matter that Ryan had briefly entertained that exact thing. He flew around to the front of the couch and hauled Edward to his feet. “I should shoot you right in the head.”
“You shoot me, and you’ll never see a dime.”
“Edward,” Ashley yelled.
“This isn’t about money!” Ryan gripped his hair.
It was hard to focus. The whiskey was quickly turning to foe and muddying things.
He shouldn’t have given in. He had been five years sober until his aunt’s bombshell.
The letter. The tell-all. How was he ever supposed to forgive her for keeping the truth from him all these years?
What hurt the most about Edward’s accusations was he was right about her on one level.
His aunt was a liar from the day she took him in until the day she died.
By omission or blatantly, it didn’t matter.
“Right. Well, I don’t believe you. You invade my home, wave a gun around, and give us some sob story. You’re just like everyone else in the world looking for a payday off the Hansons. Enough is enough. My father just died!”
Ryan lunged toward Edward when he was tackled from behind. The security guard.
His arm still holding the gun was raised high above his head, but he couldn’t bring it down. The damn security guy had him locked in a vise-like grip around the torso. Still, Ryan tried to free himself, gain some distance. Abram clawed at Ryan’s waistband, trying to get his gun back.
He twisted against the man, but the guard’s strength and positioning provided him with the upper hand. Next thing, Ryan was flung face down onto the floor. He quickly writhed over onto his back. He held the gun on the man’s face. “Back off or I will shoot you between the eyes.”
“Abram, take the gun from his hands and shoot him!” Edward egged on his security guy but didn’t move from his position on the couch to assist.
My half-brother, with his sheltered, privileged fucking life!
It distracted his opponent just enough that Ryan slammed the butt of his gun into the security guard’s groin.
The man faltered backward with a wail, giving Ryan enough leeway to get to his feet. But the guard wasn’t dazed for long. He came at Ryan, nostrils flaring, reaching for the weapon in his hand.
Enough is enough! There was no way in hell Ryan was going to allow him to take him down. Today would be successful. It was all that Ryan could accept. The whiskey swam in his head, giving him a sense of empowerment and invincibility.
The guard, too, seemed to find renewed energy.
His grip on Ryan’s arm was stronger than before.
As Ryan fought to maintain his hold on the gun, his arm swung around in a wide circle with the guard’s.
In Ryan’s haste to keep his grip solid on his weapon, his finger slipped over the trigger. Pulled back.
Time stopped.
High piercing screams followed.
The security guard retreated. His attention was no longer on Ryan, but on Edward, and the big, red hole in his chest.
“What have you done?” Ashley cried out.
Ryan stood there watching blood pouring from the wound, and he felt nothing.