Breaker's Point Bad Boy Billionaires Boxset

by Morgan, M. G.

  "George who? Why would you ask if his name was George?" Griffin asked, his mind suddenly whirling with suspicions.

  He watched Stuart and Riley exchange a look between them, a secretive look that only they understood, and Griffin felt his own anger rising.

  "What the hell are you two not telling me? Who's George?"

  Riley sighed and pushed a hand back through his dark hair.

  "It's a long story, one we don't really have time for right now, but suffice it to say I'm relieved to hear his name wasn't George."

  "Thanks, is that what you came here for? To ask me stupid questions and act all relieved when I was almost killed by a different psychopath who was not the one you were worried about?"

  "You know that's not why we're here," Riley said.

  "Well, not the only reason." Stuart smirked and folded his arms across his chest, propping himself against the doorframe.

  "We saw the news. We know your manager is missing and when we got the call to say you'd been involved in some sort of situation and were in the hospital…"

  "You thought I had something to do with what happened to Steve?" Griffin couldn't believe what he was hearing. He'd always known his brothers to be a bunch of dicks, but never as bad as this.

  The memory of Steve lying in the alley, the blank look in his eyes, and the trickle of blood running down his face was enough to send a cold shiver running down Griffin's spine.

  "Well we couldn't know for certain, which is part of the reason we're here," Stuart piped up. "The other reason is that we know you took all those guns and the ammo, and Riley wants them back. So where are they?"

  Griffin sighed and fought the urge to order his brothers out of the room. The thought of watching security manhandle them out was almost too much temptation, but he pushed it aside.

  "Look, I took the guns because I needed them. I needed the protection."

  "Protection from what, the panties your groupies throw at you when you're on stage? Because I'm pretty sure a gun might be considered excessive force," Stuart said, the infuriating smirk back on his face.

  "Stuart, let him finish," Riley warned, and Griffin couldn't help but swallow hard as he noticed how intently his brother seemed to be studying him.

  "I told you I needed a quarter of a million and you wouldn't help me out so I took the guns instead."

  "You're really in that much trouble?" Riley asked, his face draining of colour. "So much trouble that you felt your life was in danger? Why wouldn't you tell me that when we were back at Breaker's Point?"

  "Because I knew what would happen if I did. You'd want to stick your nose in my business and you'd ruin everything… You wouldn't mean it but it would happen, Riley. I know you."

  "Is it drugs? Do you owe a drug dealer a quarter of a million?"

  "Why not pay him out of the money you made from your band? You guys have to be minting it," Stuart added, the smirk disappearing from his face.

  Griffin dropped his head and stared down at the bed sheet that was so white it was practically luminous.

  "There is no money and there is no drug dealer. Well, he might be, but I don't owe him money for drugs. Black Special is broke; I borrowed the money from a loan shark called Elijah Scott to fund our latest tour. Halfway through it the money was gone and we hadn't recouped even a fraction of what we'd put out."

  Riley shook his head, his expression one of shock. "Griffin, how is that possible? I've looked at some of the stock for your group and Black Special is worth a small fortune. I don't understand how the money could just be gone."

  Griffin shrugged. "The hell if I know. The only thing I am certain of is that the money is definitely gone and now the debt has come due."

  "And did your manager take the money? Is that why he's missing?" Stuart’s tone was serious and matter-of-fact.

  Griffin swallowed hard, suddenly unsure what he was supposed to say. Spike had warned him to keep everything under wraps, that it was a secret between them and nobody else. But how could he keep a secret like that from his brothers?

  "We think Elijah killed Steve." Griffin opted for a half truth, which was enough to get them off the trail of believing that Steve was to blame whilst also letting them know just how dangerous Elijah truly was.

  Stuart let out a low whistle, his expression serious as he leaned against the door.

  "Wow, little brother, you certainly know how to pick 'em. What made you think borrowing money from a loan shark was a good idea?" Stuart's words were enough to cause Griffin's anger to boil over.

  "And what the hell was I supposed to do? Turn to my family and ask for their help because, newsflash, neither of you have been particularly helpful in the past. So why would I expect anything from you now?"

  "Why did you need to turn to anyone in the first place? If you'd been a little more responsible with the money you were making from the group, then none of this would have happened. Instead you've been throwing money around like it would never disappear." Stuart stretched himself to his full height.

  "So that's what it all boils down to, is it? You're still jealous after all this time? Well I'm sorry, Stuart, if you didn't have any talent our parents could exploit. 'Boring' isn't exactly marketable," Griffin said. The grim satisfaction he got out of watching his barbs hit home wasn't exactly enough to take the sting out of Stuart's words.

  Stuart started to cross the room but Riley caught him before he had the chance to reach the side of Griffin’s bed.

  Griffin knotted his hands into the covers and watched the pure rage flow through Stuart's eyes. He'd obviously struck a nerve, but why it was still a trigger after all this time was beyond Griffin.

  "I want you both to leave," Griffin said, turning his back on his brothers as he rolled over in the bed.

  A moment of silence followed and Griffin fought the overwhelming urge to glance over his shoulder to see if, for once, they'd actually listened to him.

  "Fine, but only so you can rest. I'll come back this evening and I expect the truth, Griffin. It's the only way you'll get any help from us," Riley said, his voice low and authoritative.

  His brother’s last words had Griffin intrigued. He'd always assumed that he was on his own; neither of his brothers had helped him before, so to hear it offered now was more than a little surprising.

  Griffin didn't answer, his own stubbornness holding him back. He honestly had no way of knowing how to stop it.

  * * *

  A sharp rap on the door woke Griffin from his doze. Groggily he opened his eyes, expecting to see Riley and Stuart back for round two.

  Instead a petite blonde woman stood framed in the doorway; everything about her, from her posture to the stony expression she wore, screamed she was a cop. Griffin's stomach dropped and he fought to push himself upright in the bed.

  "Mr. Reynolds, Griffin Reynolds, do you mind if I have a word with you?" She stepped into the room without waiting for him to answer.

  "And you are?" he asked, the hostility in his voice instantly recognised by the woman who was approaching the bed. Griffin watched her take note of his immediate reaction to her and internally berated himself.

  It was a stupid mistake to let her see his true feelings about law enforcement. And yet Griffin couldn't help but feel guilty over everything that was going on.

  He'd never been a particularly good liar, especially when it came to lying to the cops.

  "I'm Detective Andrea DeMarco. I just want to ask you a few questions about your manager, Steve Robinson. I don't know if you heard yet but his girlfriend has reported him missing?"

  Griffin nodded, trying to keep the tension out of his hands as he gripped the edge of the bed sheet.

  "It's not common for us to take on a missing person report so quickly. Normally the person has to be gone for at least twenty-four hours before we start to mobilise a search."

  "So why was Steve different? I mean it's not unlike him to fall off the grid for a day or so; he'd always resurface with a story of searching for new t
alent."

  Detective DeMarco smiled, but it wasn't a pleasant expression. Griffin felt a tendril of fear curling around the base of his spine. She couldn't possibly know anything. There was nothing to know; Spike had reassured him of that.

  "I'll keep that under advisement, but Mr. Robinson's case is a little different. We found his Audi burnt out, the interior of the car completely stripped down."

  Griffin couldn't keep the surprise from his face and he swallowed hard. Spike hadn't mentioned anything about a car and, as far as Griffin could remember, he hadn't seen Steve's Audi in the parking lot of Holey Moley's the night he was shot.

  "Did you remember something, Mr. Reynolds? Anything at all that could help us with our search for Mr. Robinson would be greatly appreciated at this time. Anything at all." There was an edge to DeMarco's tone that made Griffin uneasy.

  It was almost as though she knew something she wasn't telling him. And if that were the case, it would only take one wrong word from him to make her even more suspicious than she already was.

  "I don't know anything. I'm sorry, I wish I did."

  She nodded and flipped open a notepad that she pulled out from the inside of her jacket.

  "You were quite close to Mr. Robinson, is that true?"

  Griffin nodded. "We all were. He was our manager."

  DeMarco smiled and shook her head. "I've been led to believe that out of all your bandmates you were by far the closest to him. Almost as though it was a father-son relationship instead of a manager-band setup."

  The pit Griffin had felt in his stomach earlier came roaring back with a vengeance. It was a struggle not to tumble headlong into it.

  "We were very close, yes. I admired Steve; he was a great man and an even better manager. I trusted him to never lead us astray and he never did."

  DeMarco nodded thoughtfully and scribbled a few notes onto the pad in her hand.

  "And when did you last speak to Mr. Robinson?"

  Griffin shrugged. "I don't really remember. A lot has happened over the last few days."

  "Did you speak to him yesterday evening?"

  The short conversation he'd had with Steve just hours before he'd died came flooding back to Griffin and he nodded without meaning to.

  "How did he sound to you? Was he worried at all? Did you argue?"

  "He sounded fine. He sounded like Steve, nothing out of the ordinary."

  "What the hell is going on in here?" Riley's voice cut through Griffin's answer.

  Griffin turned and watched as his brother strode into the room with an expression that would have made lesser cops wilt beneath the weight of his stare. But DeMarco held her ground, a tight-lipped smile on her face as she turned to greet Riley.

  "Mr. Reynolds here agreed to answer a few of my questions. And you are?" she asked, turning it back around on Riley.

  "I'm Griffin's older brother, Riley Reynolds, and I think you've asked him enough questions. He's been through enough, and anything further can be directed to our family's attorney." Riley tugged a card from inside his jacket and held it out to Detective DeMarco.

  Griffin fought the urge to smile as DeMarco took the offered card without so much as glancing at it and tucked it into the back of her notepad.

  "I was just finishing up here anyway but if I have any other questions I'll be sure to arrange a meeting down at the station where Mr. Reynolds and his attorney can attend."

  She turned on her heel without so much as a backward glance, and Griffin couldn't help but feel a grudging respect for her. It wasn't often that someone was capable of putting Riley in his place and yet she had done it with ease.

  The silence stretched out between them and Griffin shot Riley a curious look.

  "How are you feeling now?" Riley finally asked, breaking the tension that seemed to be building in the room.

  "I'm about as good as you can expect from a man who had his ass handed to him this morning," Griffin said, his voice gruff as he fought to reach the jug of water one of the nurses had left for him. His mouth was dry and he couldn't remember when he'd last had a proper drink.

  Riley grabbed the jug and quickly poured a glass of icy water before sliding it across the small hospital table towards Griffin.

  Griffin took the glass grudgingly; he didn't need his brother's pity and yet from the way Riley was staring at him that was exactly what he was getting.

  "What did you tell her?" Riley asked, dragging a chair up to the side of the bed as Griffin swallowed down half the glass of water. The icy liquid sliding down the back of his throat soothed its irritating ache.

  "Not much. I don't have a whole lot to tell," Griffin said, setting the glass back down on the table.

  "Griffin, if you suspected this Elijah guy killed your manager, then why the hell would you go and see him this morning?" Riley leaned in towards the bed as though he expected Griffin to share some dark secret with him.

  "You still think I had something to do with Steve's disappearance, don't you?"

  "I didn't say that, Griffin, and you know I didn't. I'm just trying to understand how this happened."

  Griffin sighed and pushed his hand back through his hair. The pain of lifting his arm was worth it, helping to clear his mind of the fog from the painkillers coursing through his veins, and for that he was grateful. At the end of the day, there was only so much of the truth he could share with his brother.

  "I went because Steve was a good guy and I wanted Elijah to back off. He made the deal with me. If he had a problem he should have come to me, not take it out on those closest to me."

  Griffin shot his brother a sideways glance as he tried to assess just how much of what he said Riley believed. But Riley’s face was as inscrutable as always.

  "But you had to know how dangerous that was?"

  Griffin nodded. "Yeah, but what other choice did I have? Elijah is a bully but I can't have him hurting my friends."

  Riley smiled and sat back in the chair. "There's one thing I've always admired about you, Griff. Your loyalty to your friends is unmatched by anyone I've ever met."

  Griffin shot his brother a suspicious look; it wasn't like Riley to toss around compliments. Whatever had happened to him since Griffin had last seen him up in Breaker's Point obviously had a profound impact on his character.

  "No need to look at me like that. It's true; I'm not just saying it to you."

  "Well, thanks," Griffin said, keeping his head low and studying the threads hanging from the edge of the sheet.

  "So I guess the guns you took from me weren't much use?"

  Griffin felt heat climbing up his neck and flooding into his face and could only imagine that beneath the swelling and bruises he was the colour of a tomato. It was embarrassing to admit that he had faced Elijah armed and yet he'd still ended up in the hospital bed, while Elijah didn't even have a scratch on him.

  "Yeah, about the guns… I'm sorry for taking them, but I couldn't see another way out of it."

  Riley shook his head. "I get it. I know you were scared, Griff, but you really should have come to me with the truth."

  "Would you have helped me if I had? Would you have even believed me? You seemed pretty wrapped up in whatever was going on at the time with Holly."

  "You’re my brother, so of course I'd have listened. I know I haven't exactly been brother of the year but I care about you and I always have. You could have come to me."

  Griffin shook his head and gave Riley a sideways grin. "I take it I have Holly to thank for this miraculous turnaround of character because the Riley Reynolds I remember would have hung me out to dry for being so stupid."

  "So you admit you were stupid? You really must be growing up," Riley said, a smile curling his lips. "Why didn't you use the guns in the end?"

  The grin faded from Griffin's lips as he remembered Elijah's threat, and he wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball of shame.

  "Elijah took the gun I was carrying, which was what he used to pistol whip me. The rest of them are in the tr
unk of my car, which I parked right outside Elijah's warehouse, so I can only assume he has them too."

  "No, Stuart picked your car up and recovered the rest of the guns. All of them were present and accounted for except one, and I presumed it was the one you went in with. I just couldn't figure out why you hadn't tried to use it."

  "Didn't get the chance. Elijah's guy was on me before I even had the opportunity to reach for it."

  Riley nodded thoughtfully but he didn't say anything. Griffin's nerves caused him to fidget with the edge of the hospital identification bracelet he wore around his wrist. Tension built within him and he tried to bring it back under control but failed.

  "There's something else."

  "Yes?" Riley said, his expression curious.

  "He threatened to use the gun to commit a crime, said it might help you to loosen up your purse strings. The gun is, after all, registered to you."

  Riley's face drained of colour, but it wasn't from shock. Rage bubbled beneath the surface of his eyes and Griffin began to feel nervous for the first time in years.

  "I'm really sorry, Riley. I didn't know that he'd do that, I swear…"

  "Even if you did know, would you still have taken my gun?" Riley asked, an edge to his voice.

  Griffin dropped his head and stared down at the sheets.

  "I don't know, maybe…" Griffin lifted his face and stared over at his brother. "I wouldn't have intentionally put you at risk, but I couldn't just wait for Elijah to come and finish us all off."

  Riley didn't say anything and Griffin waited anxiously for his brother to pass judgement on him, the way he always had in the past.

  "I understand, Griffin. As I said before, I admire your loyalty to your friends."

  Griffin's mouth dropped open and he stared at his brother, his mind a confusing whirl of surprised thoughts. This wasn't the Riley he'd grown up with; it wasn't even the Riley he remembered from a week ago who'd told him what a failure he was.

  Whatever Holly McCombe had done to his brother, Griffin knew he owed her big time.

  "We need to plan out how we're going to deal with this Elijah character," Riley said, "I dislike thugs who think they can just get away with threatening me and my family, and I think it's high time people know that the Reynolds aren't merely pawns to be played with."