Page 164 of Vicious Butterfly
There’s no guarantee Clarence is going to back off once I answer, and my most private secret, the one that really should stay buried, will be out in the world for nothing. Luke had no love for Uncle Jasper, but he didn’t want him dead. He never would have wanted that. Even when the time came to tell Luke everything, it was only going to be “everything.”
Basically, a heavily edited version of events, with a lot of emphasis on what a scumbag our uncle was. All of it was still going to make him sick, but there are some things I’ve done that he should never know.
But Ryan asked me to, so nothing else fucking matters.
“Of course, dollface.” I stand taller, taking a breath, imagining Uncle Jasper’s final rattle. “I killed him, alright. And god, it felt good. It felt so fucking good, I wish I could do it again.”
Clarence’s lip wobbles. “I knew it. You … you’re a monster.”
I put a hand over my heart. “Ouch, Clarence. You wound me.” I won’t deny the accusation, but what about Jasper? He was the original monster. He did more monstrous things in the time I worked with him than I’ll ever do in my lifetime.
His hand trembles. Something shines in Griff’s eyes. In a lightning motion, Griff’s hands come up and snatch the barrel, yanking it from his mouth and moving his head at the same time. He twists his body away, still holding the firearm, which twists Clarence’s wrist at an angle that wrists shouldn’t be bent at, forcing Clarence to release the gun.
Griff has the firearm now, sighted on Clarence. Clarence lunges for Henry’s gun on the table, but I don’t let him go further than that, pulling my imposter nine mil from my jacket. A shot breaks the air. Blood splatters. Clarence’s body thuds to the floor.
I walk over to his still twitching body and take the keys from his pocket.
31
RYAN
Tate crouches at my feet. Every detail’s more pronounced, sharper. His jaw, his full lips, the way his hair falls in his eyes. I love Tate’s put-together vibe, but wrecked like this, on the edge of holding it together, does things to my insides. He unlocks my ankles.
“Are you okay, baby?” he murmurs, rubbing a hand over my thigh. To everyone else, he might appear calm. But his body’s stiff, muscles filled with restrained violence, ready to strike. Tate is still DEFCON 1, and I don’t have a clue how to shake him out of it.
“I’m fine.”
He stands, taking hold of my locked wrists. “That’s bullshit, but we’ll take care of it. What the fuck were you doing jumping in front of a gun like that?”
“I wasn’t letting him shoot you.”
“We’re having a long conversation about it later.” He slips the key in, releasing my wrists, and I rub them like they do in the movies.
“VanCourt, a moment of your time,” Kline rasps.
Tate slides a hand across my cheek, eyes never leaving mine. “What do you want, Kline?”
“In private.”
“Fuck me,” he says under his breath. “I don’t want to talk to him, but there are a few things we should go over before we leave. Then I’m getting you out of here, dollface.”
“I need to talk to my brother anyway,” I say. Griff went over to talk to Cooper as soon as Clarence was no longer a threat.
His fingers dig into my skin. Tate doesnotwant to leave me, that’s for fucking sure. “Stay where I can see you. I fucking mean it, Ryan.”
A shiver goes through me. “Promise.”
But he lingers for several heartbeats, finally pressing a kiss to my forehead before sauntering over to Kline. “This better be worth taking me away from my husband, fuckface.”
I head over to the other side of the room where Griff and Cooper are. There have been too many coin tosses with Griff’s life for my liking this season. I thought it was over. All it would have taken was for Clarence’s hand to slip.
Yeah, not thinking about that anymore.
Griff sees me coming, and he meets me halfway, crashing into my torso, arms wrapping around me.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
“Sorry? For what? That was fucking badass, Griff. Where’d you learn that?”
