Page 113 of Wait for Him

"For what?"

I slam him into the wall one last time and let go.

Wesley crumples down it, landing in a heap with his hands over his face.

"I'm sorry." His shoulders shake. "I'll make it right."

"You're goddamn right you will."

I shake out my hand, pain finally starting to radiate through my knuckles and up my forearm. I'll feel it for a week.

"You're going to turn yourself in."

His head snaps up.

"Marcus—"

"You have twenty-four hours to get your shit in order. Call an attorney. Make whatever arrangements you need to make. I don't give a fuck." I point at him with the hand that isn't already swelling. "But twenty-four hours from now, I'm coming back here, and if you haven't turned yourself in, I'm escorting you to the police station myself."

He stares at me like he doesn't recognize me.

That's fine. I'm starting to realize I never recognized him either.

His eyes are pleading, and all I see is red. I want to crack his chest open and present his beating heart to Rose on a silver fucking platter. I have never hated anything the way I hate this man right now.

"Son, there has to be another way. I can't go to prison. I can't."

"Did you think this was a motherfucking negotiation, old man?" I grab my jacket from where I threw it when I walked into his house. "There's a man outside that door who will be your shadow for the next twenty-four hours. Don't you fucking try to run. It's over. If you aren't in this house when I come back tomorrow, I will hunt you down and kill you myself."

I open the front door and look back at him, small and bleeding on the floor of a house my money has been paying for.

"And in case you're doing the math on whether I mean it, one of the women you raped grew up to be one hell of a fucking lawyer. She'll make sure I get away with it."

"Marcus, please!"

His sobs follow me through the door, and I feel absolutely nothing. Whatever part of me was supposed to hurt at the sound of my father crying died somewhere in New York, probably around the same time Rose told me she used to fantasize about dancing on his grave.

Sean is posted exactly where I told him to be. He's one of the highest-ranking security officers we've got, and I hired him and his team personally for this, outside company channels and without a paper trail leading back to Sullivan. He's built like a concrete wall with military posture, which is exactly what I wanted standing between Wesley and any sudden ideas about disappearing.

"He doesn't leave your team's sight. I'll be back tomorrow."

"Yes, sir."

He nods once, and I head for the car without another word because I've used up every one I had inside that house.

The anger holds until the door shuts behind me.

Then Rose crashes straight through it.

I know I have to tell her. Fuck, I know I do. This isn't something I can bury and still expect us to have anything real. It would sit between us forever, one more locked box in a relationship already built on too many of them. Every time I told her I'm yours, there'd be something underneath it I was deliberately keeping from her, and Rose would feel it. Maybe not know what it was, but feel it. She reads me too fucking well, and she's already caught me pulling away once.

But how the hell do I say this?

Good news, baby, he isn't my biological father, so technically we're working with less shared DNA than you might think.

Jesus Christ.

Like that's supposed to help.