Page 52 of Catch Me (Townsend Legacy #4)

A ndreas

“A fucking needle?” I look at my oldest brother with disgust.

We’re miles out from anywhere, in the middle of one of the vast spaces of land owned by my family. In the distance I can hear the sounds of hungry pigs squealing for their next meal.

I glare over Kyle’s shoulder at the man tied up behind him.

“You have to be at the damn Academy Awards in forty-eight hours,” he replies, calmly. “You can’t exactly show up with bruised knuckles, can you?”

“There are makeup artists.”

“The last thing we need is a fucking makeup artist asking questions,” my dad says behind me.

I glare at him over my shoulder.

He moves to stand next to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Son, this is the quickest way to get rid of this piece of shit.” He slowly turns his head to Dennis James, who’s strapped to a wooden chair.

“We’ll let the pigs take care of the rest.”

Dennis starts squealing just like the pigs that’ll eventually feed on his body.

Kyle and my father are right.

But I don’t care about their commonsense explanations. When I look at the son of a bitch strapped to that chair, begging for his life, there’s not an ounce of pity inside of me.

All I see when I look at him is the fact that he tried to take Ivy away from me. Permanently.

It was only thanks to Ivy’s quick instincts, and the stun gun I insisted she carry once she started taking night classes, that she’s alive.

Dennis was supposed to go on trial for assault and a few surprise charges of money laundering. Those were discovered after the initial allegations of him harassing women came out. However, he took a plea deal and was out awaiting his sentencing trial when he attacked Ivy.

Thanks to Spencer being there, my family’s less above-the-law security team not only arranged for us to be alone with Dennis here now, but also set up a scene in the apartment where he was staying to make it look like he took his own life.

That service came complete with positive I.D. through DNA matching and everything. In the eyes of everyone else, Dennis James is already dead.

I shake my head. “No.”

“Told you,” Thiers grumbles, darkly, from behind me.

“He finally speaks,” Kyle says, looking over at my twin.

Thiers doesn’t give a verbal reply, and I suspect he merely shrugs while continuing his leaned back position against the wall, arms folded over his chest.

This moment isn’t about the rest of my family. I move past my brother and father and approach Dennis. He grunts in pain when I rip the tape from over his mouth.

“The fuck is this?” he barks out.

“This is your reckoning,” I tell him, chuckling with a few taps to his face. An evil smirk splits my lips when he flinches.

“My what? What does that mean?”

“Dumb motherfucker,” Thiers scoffs.

“Ay, what did he say?”

“No, twin!” I bark when Thiers tries to barge past me. “This one is mine. Carry your ass back over to that wall.”

My brother’s eyes narrow to slits. The look alone has probably sent many a man to his grave.

But I don’t break eye contact with my brother. He snarls, curling his top lip, but eventually backs off, mumbling something about anyone else would’ve ended up with a cracked skull talking to him like that.

That actually makes me chuckle

“You come with me,” my dad orders, pointing at Thiers. He, like me, probably already senses Thiers’ anxiousness.

“You make sure this gets done right,” Dad tells Kyle.

I turn my attention to Dennis. “We’re somewhat of an unconventional family.”

He begins looking around the room. “Where am I?”

“That’s not important. I want you to take a look at something for me.” I hold up a burner phone and show him a video clip. It’s from one of his podcast episodes. The one he initially made about Ivy.

In the clip, he’s cackling like a fucking hyena.

“Do you like to laugh?”

“Hey, man, it was just a fucking joke,” he yells.

“That wasn’t my question. I asked ‘do you like to laugh?’” I raise an eyebrow.

His mouth opens and closes a few times, but no words come out.

“I’ll answer the question for you. It seems you do. So I want you to laugh right now.”

“Huh?” His eyes dart to Kyle, who remained silent throughout the duration of this exchange.

“I’ve got a joke to tell,” Kyle says. “You know, to increase the humor in the room.”

“Share with the class,” I say, moving to stand by Dennis’ side so we both can watch my brother.

Kyle goes to the cabinet, pulling out a black box, and I smirk as he brings it over and places it in front of Dennis.

“Oh, that’s right, your hands are a little occupied at the moment. Let me,” he offers, removing the lid of the box.

Dennis instantly starts screaming. “What the hell?! What the fuck?!?”

“Guess, he doesn’t like surprises,” I tell Kyle, who just shrugs. “Since you and your co-hosts like laughing and bullying so much, I thought you’d want them here for this,” I say, looking at the severed hands in the box.

When he continues screaming, I smack him so hard that his head snaps sideways.

“I said laugh. I want to hear you laugh, not scream like a bitch.”

He still doesn’t get it, so I punch him this time. Blood squirts out of his nose and mouth.

“Dammit, you’re definitely going to have bruised knuckles,” Kyle complains.

“Laugh, motherfucker. You thought shit was funny while behind the camera and a microphone, how about now?” I demand while punching in the opposite side of his face. “Laugh,” I yell at the same time his chair tips over, sending him to the floor.

He coughs a couple of times, blood spilling out of his mouth.

“Laugh.”

“Ha …” he blurts out.

“That was pathetic.” I kick him in his ribs. “Laugh!”

The next sound that comes from him is a mixture of a pathetic fake laugh and groans of pain. I kick him again and again.

Eventually he passes out.

That’s when Kyle wraps me up from behind. “That’s it. Put the fucking needle in his neck and let’s be done with this shitbag.”

I’m breathless and my anger isn’t fully settled but I know my brother’s right. I’ve got more important shit to pay attention to than this piece of garbage.

I snatch the needle out of Kyle’s hand and use it for its intended purpose.

Hours later, Kyle, my father, Thiers, and I leave our property, the sound of satiated pigs squealing in the distance as they roll around in the mud.