Page 102 of Consequences

“Are you okay?” she whispers into his ear. “You look like hell.”

“I’m fine now,” he says, refusing to release her regardless of the fact his body screams at him. “I thought I lost you.”

“Me, too,” she whispers.

Colt walks up to them and opens the back of the SUV. “Why don’t you sit in the backseat, sweetheart? You don’t need to be out here half-naked.”

The kindness his brothers show a woman they barely know but understand means the world to Beckett makes him happy. And feel even guiltier than he already does.

“Go in the car, Shan,” he says. “I’ll be right there. I gotta take care of something.”

“Beckett, no. He’ll kill you.”

Colt chuckles. “Look around, babe. There are only a few things this man can do with all of us here, and killing Beckett ain’t one of them.”

Slapping Colt on the shoulder, Beckett walks up the driveway and takes the gun from Undertaker. “Let’s walk into the backyard.”

“I’m going nowhere with you!”

“Looks like baby needs to be walked,” Undertaker says in a mocking tone. “Let’s go, little guy. You can do it!”

It hurts to laugh, but Beckett can’t help it. Watching the mammoth of a man forcing a man in a five-thousand-dollar suit into the backyard of his own house is nothing short of entertaining.

“Remember what I told you when you paid me a visit the other day? After you slapped me like the fucking pussy you are?” Beckett asks.

“It wasn’t memorable enough for me to remember.”

Taking Ramsey’s hand, Beckett forces the gun into and brings their arms up to aim the barrel at his temple. “I told you I would be the last thing you ever saw.”

“Here’s what they’re going to say,” Undertaker says. “Your men died from a gas leak while waiting for you in your house, and when you found them, you felt so guilty that you took your own life.”

“No one will ever believe it. I would never.”

“Gunpowder residue on your hands will make it impossible to prove otherwise,” Beckett says.

“And all your cameras have been turned off. We also have all of your blackmail files, so really, what do you have to live for?”

Beckett squeezes the watch on Ramsey’s wrist and smirks. “Hold up. Gotta switch sides.”

“Why?” Undertaker asks.

“He’s a leftie. Can’t show our hand just yet, so it has to be believable. No lingering doubt.”

To his credit, Ramsey attempts to fight, but it’s no use. Undertaker makes it impossible for him to pull the gun away. “No one will believe this!”

“Look at me,” Beckett says, a smile spreading across his face. “Last face you ever see, remember?”

In a show of defiance—and probably denial—Ramsey finally looks at him. “You’ll have everyone on your ass because I have backups. Contingency plans. You have no idea the hell you’ll create for yourself.”

“Naw, I checked,” Brock says. “You got nothing as a backup plan. In fact, telling everyone their secrets would come out if you died was a lie. You’re not smart enough to pull that off.”

“The only thing getting out is brain matter as the bullet rips through your skull,” Beckett says.

Ramsey opens his mouth, but Beckett pulls the trigger. The bullet flies out the other side of his skull, and both he and Undertaker release the body to allow it to fall as it will.

“Even the idiots in the GBPD will be able to close this one pretty easily,” Undertaker says with a smirk as they walk back out front. “You look like shit.”

“Feel like it, too, but I have a hot nurse I’m sure is more than willing to give me a sponge bath, so I gotta go. Gotta make sure she’s okay, too.”

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