Claiming Felicity (Ace Security #4)(68)

“I tried to teach you that there’s a time and place for violence, but you seemed to thrive on it. When you were in high school and I had to pay off that judge to get you out of that assault charge, I thought you learned your lesson. But then you had to go and fuck it up again with that bitch in college, and I had to clean up that mess as well.” Garrick shook his head and went on. “You’re a disgrace. An embarrassment. I can’t tell you how many of my men have come to me over the years to complain about you. To tell me all the ways you screwed up. At this point, I’m thinking I would’ve been better off without a son at all.”

“I always did everything you told me to,” Joseph protested. He clenched the pistol in his hand so hard, his knuckles were turning white. “But you were never satisfied. Never. You were the one who told me women were trash. That they were good for nothing but fucking. I watched you when I was still in elementary school with the whores you hired. You didn’t let them get away with disrespecting you. I’ve only done what you taught me, Father. And this bitch disrespected me. And I’m not letting her get away with it.”

Garrick took a step closer to his son. “I also taught you discretion. But you never learned that fucking lesson. You don’t kill a bitch and dump her body to be found by the cops in your own neighborhood. You don’t hit bitches where their screams can be heard by others. You brought this on yourself. I told you time and time again to let it go. That nothing she said about you would ever stick, but you wouldn’t listen. Just like you never listen.” Garrick shook his head and snorted in exasperation. “For once in your pathetic life, listen to what I’m saying. Tell me where the infant is.”

“Fuck you,” Joseph told his father, the hate easy to hear in his tone. “Go to hell.”

“You’ll be the only one going to hell today,” Garrick responded. Then, without another word, he pulled a pistol out from under his suit coat and shot his son between the eyes.

Joseph fell backward, hitting the dirt with a thud. His sightless blue eyes stared up at the beautiful Colorado sky.

“No!” Logan screamed.

Ryder felt Felicity jerk behind him, but he didn’t take his eyes off Garrick. The man had shot his son in cold blood without a moment’s hesitation. There was no telling what else he might do.

The older man turned to face them, and all four brothers brought their pistols up and aimed them at the Mob boss.

Garrick held his arms open at his sides. One hand was open, the other still holding the pistol he’d used to kill his son, but his finger wasn’t on the trigger. He first looked at Felicity. “I apologize on behalf of my son for the trouble you’ve had to endure for the last decade,” he said in a formal tone. “I told him to stop. To leave you alone, and thought he had, but I was mistaken. You will be compensated for the trouble you’ve gone through, and you are free from any kind of retribution or attention from me or the rest of my family.”

Ryder heard Felicity gasp behind him. He didn’t know if it was in outrage or surprise, but he concentrated on the man’s hand movements. If his index finger even twitched toward the trigger of the pistol he was still holding, he’d blow him away.

Garrick then turned to Logan. The oldest Anderson brother had both hands gripping his pistol, and it was pointed right between Garrick’s eyes. He didn’t even flinch.

“I am going to do everything in my power to find your son and return him to you. My family and I have no beef with you and your brothers.”

“You might not have a beef with us, but we now have one with you,” Logan spat. “Your fucking son kidnapped my child.”

Garrick merely shrugged. “Won’t be the first time I’m hated, won’t be the last. But honestly, your anger isn’t what concerns me.” Then he turned to Ryder and reholstered his pistol as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

Thus far, the man hadn’t shown any emotion, but his next words were almost pleading. He sounded more upset than when he’d been asking his son to put down his guns. “Ryder, please tell Rex that I apologize for my son. He was acting on his own. Rex knows I didn’t approve of my son’s activities. Make sure he knows that what he did was not sanctioned by me or my brothers.”

“How did you know where we’d be?” Ryder asked.

Garrick shrugged. “Rex called me and informed me. I was already in Castle Rock to take my son in hand, but I was a little too late.”

Ryder’s head spun. He’d called his handler on the way up the mountain to let him know what was going down, but Rex hadn’t mentioned anything about calling Joseph’s father. What the fuck?

“So you’ll tell him?” Garrick insisted.

“I’m not telling him shit until we have my nephew back,” Ryder said calmly. “You want to keep the Mountain Mercenaries off your ass and out of your backyard, then you find Nathan Anderson and bring him home safely. Then I’ll consider it.”

Ryder knew he was pushing his luck, but the man in front of him wasn’t stupid. He was ruthless and had just killed his own son. And he desperately wanted to keep Rex out of his business.

“Deal,” he said, then nodded at Ryder. He ignored the other men and strode past them toward the sleek black Lincoln Town Car he’d arrived in. Two huge men, definitely bodyguards, stood next to the vehicle, their pistols now in their hands.