Page 87 of You Don’t Kiss Your Brother's Best Friends

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Morris added, bitterly. “I stole this company out from under your nose while you weren’t looking. It should’ve been harder than it was, but it turns out everybody despises you.” He added a short, involuntary laugh. “You’re done making stupid decisions. For both yourself,andBlight.”

It happened lightning fast: Roman’s hand reaching up, sweeping outward, grabbing the barrel of the shotgun in the time it took to blink. He yanked violently hard, in an effort to take it away and reverse the weapon on its wielder. But Bishop’s grip was just too strong.

Bishop kicked outward with all his might, catching the man square in the chest. Roman Wynter went sprawling, still reaching for the gun he would never have. He was still reaching when the room exploded in gunfire, as eight or ten of his best men unloaded their weapons on their ungrateful, near untouchable boss.

Morris was shooting too, and then Bishop, and then even Andre. I squinted through the cacophony of smoke and noise as he took the shotgun from Bishop, pumping the slide forward and back and firing until it was empty.

~ 52 ~

JOCELYN

The roar of gunfire ended, but the smoke lingered for a while longer. When it finally cleared, one thing was absolutely certain:

Roman Wynter was one thousand percent dead.

Ironically, death hadn’t changed the look of smug indifference on his somewhat handsome face. I didn’t mind it at all, though. It made it all that easier for my mind to accept the absurdity of what had just happened.

“The lake out back, huh?” Morris asked Andre, the two of them staring down at the remains.

“Yup. It’s surprisingly deep.”

Morris sighed and scratched at the back of his neck. “Well, if it’s good enough for Foley, I guess it’s good enough for him.” He shook his head. “Shame, though. Fouling up such a pretty place with scum like this.”

My stomach went tight. Everyone in the room was looking at Morris. Roman’s men — now his men — stood in silence, rifles pointed at the ground.

“What now?” asked Andre.

Morris laughed softly.

“What now?” he repeated, adding a shrug. “Now we start over. The cancer’s been cut away. Blight’s streamlined again,made up of only good people like these.” He pointed around the room. “We can do great things, useful things. Things like we used to, before pieces of shit like this took over.”

He half-nudged, half-kicked Roman Wynter with his foot.

“I think he means what now withus,” said Bishop.

Morris paused in contemplation. “Oh.Thatwhat now.”

He paced a little, circling the crumpled form of the larger than life mercenary king. It had me wondering how much he despised this man, and just how long he’d planned this coup.

“I guess that all depends on the extent of your vendetta against Blight.”

Andre coughed. “Our vendetta was always against Roman,” he said. “Never Blight.”

Morris nodded. “Good answer.”

“As of right now, we’ve accomplished everything we wanted to,” said Bishop. Glancing my way, he shot me a wink. “And then some.”

Morris finished pacing, while Andre and Bishop remained still. He returned to stand before them.

“You sure you don’t want in, Delaney?” he offered. “Considering your background, we could definitely use you.”

“No,” Bishop answered quickly. “But thanks.”

The mercenary shook his head sadly, then set his hands on his hips. In doing so, he looked around as if seeing the mansion for the very first time.

“This is the perfect place to start over, too,” Morris added. “Once we get everything cleaned up, we can sit down and figure out how to rebuild.”

He turned again, this time in our direction. He was still brandishing his weapon, but the man was so accustomed to having one he didn’t even notice.

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