Page 113 of The Promise
"And when Father found it, he moved it."
"Stupid ass."
"But if you didn't need it, why go to all this trouble?" Patrick frowned. "Why not let someone else find it and cart it away?"
"Because sooner or later the story was going to come out. You were already starting to ask questions, Patrick. And Michael was a wildcard. I didn't know if he was alive or dead. I have Striker to thank for that."
"So you killed him." Michael said, trying to make sense where there obviously was none.
Owen shrugged. "It was kill him or kill you, and he'd out grown his usefulness. I always tie up my loose ends."
"Like us?" The pain in Patrick's voice was almost palpable.
Owen sighed. "As I said I was trying to avoid this."
"But now, just like that, it's over? Your loyalty to our family—to me—was all a lie?"
"I loved you in my own fashion, I suppose." Owen waved the gun in Patrick's direction. "Michael, too, for that matter. But in the end, you're just like your mother. You'd rather be with your father than me. The old bastard didn't deserve what he had."
"More than you, Owen." Patrick's words were whispered, his voice tight with emotion. "More than you."
"Spoken just like a good son." Owen sneered. "Which brings us full circle, I'm afraid."
Michael started to move, to lunge forward, but he caught his brother's eye and froze. "Wait," Patrick mouthed, his gaze darting downward significantly. Michael glanced down, sucking in a startled breath. Patrick had a second gun concealed between the wall and his body.
"One more move like that and my Rose is a mother without children." Owen shot into the air to prove his point and rocks rained down around their heads.
Patrick seized the moment and swung around, gun blazing. Owen fired in response, but it was too late, the shot went wild, and he dropped to his knees, clutching his chest, his eyes locked on Patrick, his expression one of disbelief. One minute he was frozen there, and the next he collapsed, twitched once and was still.
Patrick let out a long breath, somewhere between a moan and a sigh. "He never really understood."
Michael dropped a hand to his brother's shoulder. "Understood what?"
"That it was all about family. Always about family." Patrick lifted his head, tears making his eyes seem bright in the flickering darkness, the gun dangling from one hand. "We take care of our own , Michael, and it was my turn."
Michael squeezed his shoulder, realizing his brother was no longer a boy. Somewhere in all that had happened, Patrick had found his way. He'd grown into a man.
"Patrick?" Loralee's frightened scream reached them just before she ran into the circle of light. She skidded to a halt, her eyes wide as she took in the two of them standing over Owen's body. "I heard gun shots. I thought… I thought…"
"We're all right."
"Is he dead?" Her eyes searched Patrick's face, and he nodded.
"Did he?"
Again Patrick nodded. "My mother—and Zach."
"Then I'm glad the bastard is dead." Loralee pulled in a shaky breath, searching the darkness. "Where's Cara?"
"I don't know." Michael felt as if the words were being wrenched from him.
Patrick grabbed his shoulders. "Where were she and Owen before this started?"
Michael drew in a deep breath, forcing control. She might still be alive. And she might still need him. And he'd promised he'd be there. "That way." He pointed into the dark, already moving in that direction. "In tunnel northwest-three."
32
Owen Prescott.Cara leaned back against the wall, anger washing through her. God damn him. The man had destroyed two marriages and now he was intent on destroying her life and Michael's.
