What Are You Afraid Of? (The Agency #2)(103)

“Because my uncle was destroying our company,” Baylor said. “My father refused to force Stuart out of his position, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.”

Ronnie made a sound of disbelief. Baylor couldn’t have been more than fourteen or fifteen when Ronnie found the letters.

“You were just a kid.”

“A very observant kid,” Baylor insisted. His smug tone grated on Ronnie’s raw nerves. “I could see that my uncle was on the verge of a mental breakdown. Not only was the business going down the toilet, but he was terrified he might lose his young and beautiful wife if she realized he was a failure. So I did everything in my power to add to his stress.”

“Yeah, right,” Ronnie scoffed. “What could you do?”

The icy hazel gaze flicked down to the gun in Ronnie’s hand before returning to his face. Was he worried that Ronnie was going to shoot him?

He should be.

“I would casually mention to my uncle that I happened to see my aunt in town with a strange man,” he admitted, his lips twitched as if he was remembering the pleasure he’d taken in tormenting Stuart Jacobs. “I would move things around his office to make him think he was losing his memory.” He paused, studying Ronnie with that annoying smile. “And then I realized that you could provide even more chaos.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you,” Baylor drawled in mocking tones. “I hoped after I convinced you that you were Stuart’s son you would confront my uncle.” He deliberately paused. “Preferably in front of my aunt. It was possible she might believe that he had his bastard living above the garage. Can you imagine the trouble it would have caused in their marriage?” He released a low chuckle. “I never dreamed you would actually shoot both of them.”

Ronnie clenched his teeth. He didn’t believe him. Baylor couldn’t have written the letters. They had to be from Stuart to his mother.

After all, they were his proof that his real father wasn’t a nameless loser. That Ronnie Hyde was as good as all the snotty Louisville society kids, even if he couldn’t tell anyone.

If they were fake . . .

Then his entire identity was a lie.

“If it was just some game to you, then why did you help my mother cover up what I did?” Ronnie asked in a harsh voice. “And why haven’t you told anyone that I was locked in an institute instead of living with a relative?”

“It suited me to have people think my uncle was responsible. It not only allowed my father to take over the company, but it got rid of my bratty cousin. My family belonged at the Jacobs estate, but having Carrie around would always mean that my father was being compared to his dead brother. No one can match up to a saint.” A cold, calculating smile twisted Baylor’s lips. “Plus, I’d discovered you were a valuable tool.”

Ronnie shoved aside the fact that Griff Archer was hidden somewhere in the warehouse with a gun. As well as his clamoring need to destroy the woman who’d had the life that should have been his. Instead, he glared at Baylor.

This man had been nothing. A younger brother who’d lived in the shadows of his brother who was better-looking and more charming than Baylor could ever hope to be.

Everyone loved Matthew. No one even liked Baylor.

Until he’d started visiting Ronnie at the institute, Baylor hadn’t had any friends. And he certainly hadn’t had a purpose beyond his stupid work.

Ronnie had allowed him to share in his dark fantasies. And trained him to become a part of the Kill Club. In return, Baylor had helped him stay in contact with the others. He’d even helped them to escape the various facilities when Ronnie was ready to put his plans into motion. But it’d all been with the understanding that Ronnie was the one in charge.

Now Baylor was trying to change the rules. And undermine Ronnie’s confidence by rewriting the past.

Ronnie squared his shoulders. It wasn’t going to work.

“I’m not a tool,” he snapped.

Baylor flicked a dismissive gaze over him. Like he was some sort of bug that he was contemplating squashing beneath his heel.

“Of course you are,” Baylor insisted. “One that I created and nurtured over the years.”

Ronnie stepped toward his companion, waving his gun in a wild gesture.

“You’re nothing but a cowardly liar.”

Baylor remained calm. The smug bastard.

“I suspected one day I might need you again. And I did,” he told Ronnie. “Over the years I’d hoped that Carrie would find some nice local farmer to marry and settle down in her grandparents’ house. She hadn’t any contact with us for years, and there was no need for her to return to Louisville.” Baylor heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Of course she had to become a problem. Not only did she not stay at her home, she had to go to college to become an investigative journalist.”

Ronnie made a sound of impatience. None of this made sense.

It’d been Carrie’s determination to become a journalist that had led her to interviewing the serial killers. And eventually had inspired his own killing spree.

“Isn’t that what we wanted?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Baylor said with an expression of disgust. “I couldn’t have her returning to the family estate, snooping into things that were none of her business.”