Page 27 of Runaway Bride for the Boss

“I’ve got this, Alexander, let me handle it.”

My first instinct is to say no, but then I pause. It wasn’t long ago that he got roaring drunk because he had to deal with something like this, so him offering to handle it is reassuring.

“Fine,” I agree, taking a step back and removing my gloves, noting that my knuckles are starting to bruise even beneath the protection of the leather. Mason has been on the receiving end of my frustrations for nearly forty five minutes and still hasn’t cracked. Impressive, I’ll give him that. Ezra grins and Mason whimpers.

Ezra flicks the lighter again and lights up his cigarette. I clench my jaw so I don’t scold him. This isn’t the place for that. And last I heard, he was trying to quit.

“Listen, Mason. I’ve been trying to quit smoking for weeks. Weeks. This is the first smoke I’ve had in a long while, and you know why I’m smoking?” He removes the cigarette from his lips to blow smoke in his face.

Mason starts into a coughing fit and my brother grins. I frown as I watch him. “That’s right! It’s because of you. You made me break my streak, so I’m not feeling very forgiving toward you right now. You’re going to tell me what I need to know, or you’re going to get very acquainted with my lighter.”

My frown deepens when Ezra drops his cigarette on the floor, grinds it down with his boot and flicks on his lighter again.Just what in the hell is he doing? He places the lit lighter right beneath Mason’s nose and moves it back and forth. Mason’s eyes follow the movement rapidly and his chest starts to heave.

“What? You don’t believe me?” Ezra sighs heavily. “I guess my reputation as the nice Beaufort brother precedes me.” He lifts his thumb off the lighter wheel, and the light flicks off.

He tucks his hand into his suit jacket and takes out a flask. He opens it and upends the content all over Mason. “Ezra,” I warn.

“I’ve watched you pummel him for the better part of an hour, Alex. You rearranged his face with your fist, and your shirt is stained. All that for what? If he’s not going to talk, then I guess we have no use for him.”

He has a point. I tug on the collar of the stained shirt. After this, I’ll have to go home to change before going into the office. I sigh and wave at Ezra for him to go ahead. He flicks on the lighter and Mason starts screaming.

“Please, please, please. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me. I swear to god, it wasn’t me.” The fucker actually looks toward me as he cries hysterically. He looks tomefor mercy. That’s a first. Ezra is usually who they try to reason with when they start to break.

My lips tug up in a smile, pride swelling in my chest. That’s my fucking brother.

“Who did it then? Who stole our money?” I ask calmly and he slumps forward, his cries dramatically getting louder.

“Better think fast. My hit of nicotine is wearing off and my hand is starting to shake, Mason. Wouldn’t want me to accidentally drop the lighter, now would you?”

Mason’s head snaps up at Ezra’s threat, and he starts singing. “It was all Larson’s idea. I swear! He reached out to me last year about how we deserve a cut for all the grunt work we do for the Beauforts. I thought it was all bullshit, of course, but he’s a master manipulator, and he made me do it!” He ends on awail, snot actually trailing out of his nose. “He made me do it, I swear.” The man is practically sobbing now. I shake my head in disgust, there’s no loyalty left in this world.

Larson fucking Brown. He’s a loose cannon and after visiting him at his engagement party last year to issue him a stern warning, I thought he’d straightened up. Fucking bastard.

“Guess my work here is done then.” Ezra starts to leave the warehouse, but I stop him with a raised hand.

“How?” I ask Mason. “How did you move the money under my nose?” I’m a stickler with the books and know about every penny exchanged through Beaufort Construction. It was quite accidental that I noticed the missing funds two months ago. It took seven fucking weeks to find the culprit because they were wily.

Mason sniffles, his cries finally dying down. Does he think confessing and shifting the blame to Larson gets him off the hook? If so, then he’s even dumber than I thought.

“He had me discreetly divert two percent of the funds into Bitcoin, and then he redirected it through the dark web to an offshore account. From there, it went back through the web and was ultimately used to purchase antiques, which are then resold anonymously, and the money is put into a hedge fund.”

Smart, very smart. Too smart and clean for the likes of Larson and Mason.

“Who else was in on it?” Ezra asks, having come to the same conclusion.

“I don’t know,” he answers. Ezra flicks on his lighter and the fucker starts crying again. “I swear I don’t know! Larson didn’t tell me, and I didn’t question it as long as I got my share.”

“We’re done here,” I say. I pick up my suit jacket from the back of the chair Ezra was lounging on earlier to drape it over my arm; then my brother and I leave the warehouse.

I stop briefly to speak to Noah. “Take care of it.” I nod to the warehouse, and Noah nods in understanding. When I glance to my side, Ezra is already heading toward his car and I call out to him. He pauses to toss a questioning look at me.

“Good work in there,” I tell him and he smiles.

“Psychology, Alex.” He taps his index finger on his temple. “Works every time.” He does a two finger salute and then gets into his car. I make my way to my own car and George drives me home.

I hurry into my house, taking the elevator to the second floor where my bedroom is to avoid running into either of my house guests. I check the time on my watch: 9:18 AM. They’re probably still sleeping after their long night at the bar anyway.

I scowl when I enter my bedroom to see Andrea trying to open my nightstand drawer. “Why are you snooping?”

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