Page 65 of Treasuring Michael
He walks over to me and pats his cheek as if to sayhit me here. Taking him up on his offer, I cock my hand back and punch him in the face. Much to my surprise, Conrad stumbles back, holding his cheek. With his light brown skin, it takes no time for the spot to turn red.
Conrad’s eyes turn flinty, and he growls as he walks over to me. I thought I could evade him since I’m smaller, but Conrad’s muscles don’t slow him down. He grabs me and yanks me forward as he pulls his fist back. I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for the painful blow.
“Stop,” James says. “Don’t hit him in the face. The lawyer will think I coerced him by beating him. Already bad enough you left handprints on his neck. Hit him anywhere else.”
The first punch to my gut doubles me over, the one that immediately follows has me dry heaving, since I already emptied my stomach contents earlier. Again, I’m tossed across the office, this time knocking against a bookshelf.
Before I can get my bearings, a kick to my stomach has me curling into a ball to protect myself. Conrad stomps on my side. The air rushes out of me as I cry out, the shout ringing in the office. I realized that’s the first cry of pain I let out since Fallon grabbed my hair earlier.
“There you go. Tell me how bad it hurts, little brother,” Conrad says in a manic tone, and I hold my middle as I try to pull in some oxygen.
I blink through my blurry vision, then look up at him. “I’m not … your brother … you crazy son of a bitch,” I grit out, spitting at his feet.
Conrad’s eyes blaze and he lifts his foot again. I roll just enough so it doesn’t land on my ribs again, but he still gets my arm, which hurts like a bitch.
He lands a swift kick to my ribs before James calls him off. Conrad is breathing heavily, and I see a smile cross his lips before I turn away, holding my ribs. Fuck. Today is the day I die.
I’m not ready. I’m not ready to die at the hands of my crazy stepbrother. I’m not ready to give up the love I just found. I’m not ready to abandon my escape plan, finally going somewhere I’m happy and loved. I’m not ready.
“Conrad, head to the hardware store. Pick up some zip ties, rope, a deadbolt, and something for his window,” James says thoughtfully.
“They sell those security bars,” Conrad supplies helpfully. The two of them go back and forth on what could go over my window without raising questions with the neighbors. They’re planning to lock me in my room until I’m finally willing to sign the papers and allow James to sell the house.
A few minutes later, Conrad leaves—giving me one more kick to the gut on his way out—and I’m left alone with James.
We sit in silence for a few minutes, me trying to get my bearings and James just watching me. I sit up and wince, holding my middle and rubbing my throat. It feels hot under my hands, and I know there will be bruises.
Frowning, I look up at James. “Why?”
That question is loaded. I’m asking everything I’ve wanted to know all these years. Why does he hate me? Why does he mistreat me? Why does he allow his sons to treat me so terribly? Why did he bother to keep me? So many whys and I’m sure he has answers to all of them.
He tilts his head to the side, assessing me. “You look like her.” I startle, not expecting him to say anything about my mother. Then he continues to speak and that vulnerable part inside me hurts. “But you’re nothing like her. Your mother was strong, a spitfire, bold. You’re a coward. Weak. Soft. That’s why I treat you the way I do. Because you let me.”
My face burns with the shame and anger I feel. What a shitty answer to give someone you’ve abused for years.
James continues. “I knew about your mother’s will. I’ve spent years trying to figure out a way to get what I want, but no matter how many lawyers I consult, I get nothing without you.” He chuckles bitterly and I flinch, even though he hasn’t raised another hand to me. I touch my cheek and feel some swelling.
“You could have treated me better,” I whisper words that have stung the back of my throat since a few months after my mother’s funeral. That’s when the mistreatment started. “You could have been an actual father to me and I—”
James’s deep laugh interrupts me. “A father to you? You’re not my child. I got stuck with you when your mother refused to listen to me when I told her to quit her job. If she listened to me, she would still be here.”
My heart squeezes. People die more often in car accidents than they do in plane crashes. He’s blaming my mother’s love for her job for her death.
Peering down his nose at me, James says, “If I could have gotten rid of you all those years ago, I would have. But your mother stipulated that you have to be present to sign for your trust fund. Couldn’t get rid of you, then expect to get my cut, could I?”
Struggling to take a deep breath, I do my best and say, “James, you’ve been taking money from me for years. You’ve been using me as your personal maid since I was old enough to learn how to cook and clean. What did I do to deserve any of that? I was a child. I didn’t ask for my mother to die.”
James gets up from his chair and I try to scoot away, but my ribs hurt so bad and I fall on my side, holding my belly and gingerly touching my ribs.
Squatting in front of me, he looks me over and smirks. “I never wanted anything to do with you. Not even when your mother was alive. I would have stuck it out, because I loved her, but you? Never. I hate that you look so much like her. I hate that you’re so fucking weak. I hate that you’re breathing the same air as me and my sons. I hate you, period. You were number one in her life when I was herhusband. She should have left everything to me.”
Reaching out quickly, James grabs my hair before I can move and forces me to my feet. I try to pull away, but it hurts too much, and I end up sagging. James must not want to keep a hold of me, because he pushes me against his bookshelves. My back hits hard and I cry out, dropping to my knees.
Once again, I’m pulled up to standing with James’s face inches from mine. “You are a waste of fucking space. After you sign over those papers, I’ll keep you locked in your room for the next few weeks. As soon as you turn twenty-five and your trust fund is released, that will be mine too. We’ll find a way to get rid of you, might have you beaten like we did that other motherfucker that got in my way. We’ll make it look like an accident, then I’ll win the sympathy vote.” He laughed maliciously and I want to vomit. “I can see the headlines now.Lawyer Wins By a Landslide, Following the Unsolved Murder of his Stepson.”
Before he can discuss any more of his future plans that have to do with my death, we both hear a click and James goes stock still. I look behind him and see Michael, gun pressed to James’s temple.
“Nice vision you got there, but there’s just one flaw. This is my boyfriend you’re planning to kill and my brother you assaulted. You won’t be leaving this room alive.”