Played: Manhattan Ruthless - 52

Chapter

Fifty-One

T here’s something about Elijah that leaves me with no doubt in my mind that he would do anything to protect his brothers, and the words he just uttered send a chill down my spine.

What if he thinks I’m not good enough for Mason? What if once he discovers that yesterday was all my fault, he decides I’m one of the people he needs to remove from his brother’s life? Those familiar feelings of shame and guilt threaten to crush me, and I almost throw up the pancake I devoured. I hate what my father did to Mason. I hate what I did to him. I’m spiraling, and I’m doing it under the scrutinizing gazes of one of the most powerful and influential families in America.

Mason’s hand lands on my thigh under the table, and he squeezes firmly, his fingertips digging into the taut muscle of my quads. With that one touch, he says everything: This is our story. Yes, there are parts of it that are shameful and full of regret, but it’s still who we are. And whether his brothers hate me or not, he loves me, and that’s all that really fucking matters.

“It’s a really long story,” Mason says, and he follows it up with a snort of laughter.

Maddox leans forward, his dark-brown eyes full of concern and … I don’t know exactly, but something tells me he has a lot of his own demons. “We got all the time in the world, bro.”

Mason blows out a breath and looks at me. I nod my agreement. He needs to tell them the whole truth. He’s carried it with him for far too long. And although my part in it will never be easy to hear, he deserves to tell his truth. They can judge me if they need to, but they can’t possibly judge me as harshly as I judge myself.

I rest my hand on the side of his neck, and he leans into my touch. “Tell them everything, baby.”

He bites down on his lip and takes a breath.

Mason’s brothers listen to the story of our past, and when he glosses over my part in it, I fill in the gaps. I need them to know what I did, and I never want him to feel as though he has to hide anything because of me ever again.

I hold his hand while he tells them what my father did to him eighteen years ago. The fury in the room is palpable. But they let him talk, offering only words of reassurance and encouragement as he bares his soul. I’m so fucking proud of him.

And then we get to recent events, and I fill in some gaps about the kind of people my parents are and how nothing that happened yesterday should have come as a surprise. Still, it did. “That basement was a staple of my childhood, but I never expected they’d do that to me as a grown man. I’m ashamed that I wasn’t strong enough to stop them,” I admit, and the crack in my voice makes me feel weaker.

Mason squeezes my hand. “Because who fucking does that to their own kid? You were knocked unconscious from behind and chained in a basement. None of us are strong enough to withstand that.”

I drop my head, wishing they’d all leave. The weight of their judgment is too heavy.

“Jesus fucking Christ, King.” Drake whistles. “You’re one tough son of a bitch.”

My head snaps up, and I find him staring at me with awe. “What?”

“Putting up with all that as a kid. Having your parents treat you that way. Moving away and starting a new life on your own …” He shakes his head. “I can’t imagine being alone like that. Even when I was in Chicago, I knew any of these guys would be there in hours if I picked up a phone.”

I shrug. “I guess I didn’t know any different.” I’m so fucking confused. They don’t seem pissed at me at all.

“Having all of you, and Mom and Pop, be so supportive when I came out meant everything to me,” Mason says. “It didn’t matter if some asshole called me names or whatever, because I had my family. Home was always a safe place.” He turns to me. “I hate that you didn’t have that. Dealing with everything on your own makes you stronger and braver than you will ever give yourself credit for.”

His brothers all voice their agreement.

I’m not sure I feel more uncomfortable with their pity than I would their judgment. Although it doesn’t feel like pity—more like understanding. Whatever it is, I try to brush it off. “I don’t know about that. And I’m not sure my shitty childhood is an excuse for the decisions I made as an adult.”

Maddox shakes his head. “Nobody said it’s an excuse. But bad shit like that affects your brain development. It wires you up differently. Makes you act in ways other people wouldn’t.” Maddox glares at his brothers. “That is scientific fact, assholes.”

Elijah, Nathan, and Drake nod, and Mason holds his hands up in surrender. “I never said a word, bro.”

Maddox narrows his eyes at him before returning his attention to me. “It also leaves a stain on your soul, and the only way to remove it is to let it out. Whatever way you choose to do it is up to you, but you gotta let it out. You can’t keep all that to yourself or it will destroy you.”

Mason reaches across the table and rests his hand over Maddox’s, and Nathan, who’s sitting beside him, wraps his arm around his youngest brother’s neck and gives him a hug that resembles a headlock. It’s obvious that Maddox is speaking from experience, but this isn’t the time to ask him to reopen those wounds. I simply thank him for his insight.

Elijah clears his throat again. “Your father is a piece of shit, King.”

I couldn’t agree more. “He most definitely is.”

He gives me a slight nod like he’s pleased I’m in full agreement. “I would personally like to tear off his arms and beat him to death with them for what he did to Mason.”

Again, I agree, and I tell him so.

“But I appreciate that this isn’t my problem to solve, and Mason tells me that’s not what either of you want.” He loosens his tie.

“What do you want?” Nathan cuts in. “This isn’t only about what happened to the two of you.”

“Cassidy Jones.” Her name makes us all pause for a moment. “You’re right,” I say. “My father knows I know the truth, and there’s no telling what he’ll do to try and destroy any potential evidence.”

“So are you going to the cops, or are we handling this ourselves?” Elijah asks, and I could hug him for that. I’ve never known what it was like to have a family that would go to bat for you like these brothers do for each other. Except that’s disrespectful to my Grampa. I’m sure his mind would have been on board even if his body wasn’t.

Drake shakes his head. “There’s a murder involved. Don’t you think the cops are the safest bet?”

Elijah nods. “Just pointing out that we have options.”

I’ve been thinking about what to do since Mason and I discussed it early this morning, and the only choice is to hand this over to the authorities. Cassidy and her father deserve that. Her memory deserves to be protected. “My father has a lot of influence with the NYPD, but I know a detective I can pass this on to. He’ll make sure it’s investigated.”

“We have a lot more influence though, and we have some contacts in the DA’s office,” Nathan says. “Drake and I can pull some strings. Make sure a warrant is expedited.”

I nod. “We’ll go to the 25 th precinct after breakfast.” Charlie Evans is a divorced workaholic who lives at the precinct. He’s also a moody son of a bitch before he’s had his coffee and pancakes.

Mason offers me a reassuring smile. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

“And I’ll go speak to Curtis Jones straight after.”

Nathan makes a quick call, and when he hangs up, he fills us in on his conversation with the DA’s office, and we all have to face the distinct possibility that my parents will get away with their crime if the police can’t find solid evidence. But I am convinced Cassidy’s body is somewhere in that house, or on the grounds at least.

“Whatever happens next, Kyngston Worthington III is finished in New York,” Elijah declares. “In any part of the world where I have any influence at all, he is done. I will personally see to that. But more importantly, if your father isn’t locked up immediately, are you both safe?”

“My father is a bully and a coward. He can’t afford security these days, but even if he could, from what Mason told me, the Ryans scared the living shit out of him. There isn’t a chance in hell he’d be willing to cross the Irish mob. And while he may still technically be breathing, he and my mother are very much dead to me. They pose no danger to Mason.”

“And what about any danger to you?” Drake asks.

I’m touched by his concern for my safety, and it takes me a second to compose myself enough to answer. “They don’t pose a threat to me either.”

“You should beef up your security in here anyhow, Mason,” Nathan says coolly. “I’ve been telling you that for years.”

Mason rolls his eyes.

“I kind of agree, baby,” I say, which earns me a scowl from him.

“Why are you on their side?” he huffs. “You just said your father is no threat to us.”

“This has nothing to do with him, Mase. You’re one of the richest men in America, and your security is nothing short of abysmal. You should have more cameras in your parking garage and at least one in the elevator. A panic room. At least half a dozen⁠—”

“Okay, Sergeant Worst Case Scenario. I’ll look into a little extra security.”

Elijah looks pleased. “I’ll hook you up with our security contractor, King, and you can come up with a plan⁠—”

“King can come up with a plan? For my security?”

“Yes, Mason,” Elijah answers. “Because if you won’t listen to my recommendations, then King will force you to listen to his.”

“Nobody better to set up security than your twitchy other half, bro,” Drake says, laughing. “Amelia has our place locked up tighter than Fort Knox.”

“Mel’s the same,” Nathan adds. “You can’t take security lightly, Mase. What happened last night might have had nothing to do with your money, but there are fucked-up people out there who will do anything to get what they want.”

“Jeez,” Mason grumbles. “I thought this was supposed to be a fun let’s-celebrate-the-fact-your-boyfriend-didn’t-die-last-night breakfast.”

Maddox chuckles. “Oh, the irony.”

Elijah ignores Mason’s griping and addresses me. “I’ll send you his number.”

“Great. Between us, we can cover all the bases and get an airtight plan in place.”

Mason pushes back his chair. “I give up,” he mutters. “Now, as much as I love you all meddling in my life, King needs to rest, and we have a cop to see before he can do that, so you all need to leave.”

“You truly do love our meddling though, little brother.” Drake grabs the last strawberry and tosses it into his mouth.

“It’s our love language,” Nathan says with a smirk.

For the next few minutes, I listen to the good-natured banter between my boyfriend and his brothers as they say their goodbyes and make plans for the weekend. They include me too, but I hold myself back enough to observe and soak it all in, enjoying being a part of this. It’s new and strange but oddly comfortable.

A tiny voice in my head warns me not to get used to it because it can’t possibly last. I tell that voice to go to hell.