“Brother?” Ronnie felt a stab of surprise. “Matthew is here?”
“Yes, I found him in the security office when I went in to change the passcode for the locks. I assume he was trying to figure out how to open the doors.”
Ronnie cursed. How many people were waltzing in and out of the warehouse? It was a wonder the National Guard hadn’t shown up.
“He’s the idiot who led Griffin Archer to the warehouse,” Baylor said.
“Oh.” Well, that explained how Griff had found him. “What did you do with him?”
“I bashed him on the back of the head,” Baylor admitted, his tone revealing zero regret at having wounded his brother.
The lack of empathy convinced Ronnie the older man hadn’t been lying about wanting his brother dead.
“You’re really going to kill your own brother?”
“That wasn’t my intention, but now I realize that I’ll never have a better opportunity to have what I deserve.” A cold glimmer in his hazel eyes. “The company. The estate. The money. I couldn’t have planned it any better.”
Ronnie’s uneasiness deepened. There was something different about the man standing in front of him.
Of the two Jacobs brothers, Matthew had always been bold and brash and charming, while Baylor was quiet and studious, and watchful. When they’d been young, Matthew would enjoy tormenting Ronnie, and it was Baylor who would whisper in Ronnie’s ear how to get back at the older boy. He was the one to urge Ronnie to toss the keys of Matthew’s expensive Corvette in the lake. And it was Baylor who’d been encouraging when Ronnie had confessed that he was certain Stuart Jacobs was his father.
Now there was an arrogance in his expression that Ronnie didn’t like.
“Planned what?” he demanded.
“First you got rid of my uncle for me.”
For him? What the hell was he talking about?
“You know why he had to die,” Ronnie argued. “He was punished because he refused to admit the truth.”
Baylor shook his head. “Christ, you’re the most gullible fool I ever met.”
Ronnie stiffened. Enough was enough. How dare this man act as if he was more than a mere disciple?
“Don’t say that,” he snapped.
“It’s true.” Baylor’s voice held a hint of derision. “I’ve been using you since you were a creepy kid, trailing behind my uncle like a pathetic stray dog.”
Ronnie shook his head. “I didn’t trail behind him. My father—”
“He wasn’t your father, you moron,” Baylor interrupted.
Ronnie’s breath was wrenched from his lungs. What was going on? Was Baylor trying to confuse him? But why?
“He was. I have the proof,” he rasped. “You saw the letters and said they had to mean that he was my father.”
Baylor clicked his tongue, taking a step forward. “Poor Ronnie. I wrote those letters.”
Ronnie lifted his gun, waving it toward Baylor. “No.”
The man stopped, his gaze on the weapon in Ronnie’s hand. Still, his expression remained taunting.
“Yes. I copied them from a stack of love letters I found in my aunt’s desk.”
Ronnie grimaced. There was a pounding behind his right eye. He should just shoot the bastard. It was what he was planning to do eventually. Right?
But he couldn’t squeeze the trigger. Not until he’d reasserted his dominance over the man.
“My mother’s name was on them,” he reminded his companion. As if that explained everything.
Baylor arched a brow. “A simple enough change.”
Ronnie struggled to grasp what he was saying. “Why?”
“Because my uncle was destroying our company,” Baylor said. “My father refused to force Stuart out of his position, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.”
Ronnie made a sound of disbelief. Baylor couldn’t have been more than fourteen or fifteen when Ronnie found the letters.
“You were just a kid.”
“A very observant kid,” Baylor insisted. His smug tone grated on Ronnie’s raw nerves. “I could see that my uncle was on the verge of a mental breakdown. Not only was the business going down the toilet, but he was terrified he might lose his young and beautiful wife if she realized he was a failure. So I did everything in my power to add to his stress.”
“Yeah, right,” Ronnie scoffed. “What could you do?”
The icy hazel gaze flicked down to the gun in Ronnie’s hand before returning to his face. Was he worried that Ronnie was going to shoot him?
He should be.
“I would casually mention to my uncle that I happened to see my aunt in town with a strange man,” he admitted, his lips twitched as if he was remembering the pleasure he’d taken in tormenting Stuart Jacobs. “I would move things around his office to make him think he was losing his memory.” He paused, studying Ronnie with that annoying smile. “And then I realized that you could provide even more chaos.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you,” Baylor drawled in mocking tones. “I hoped after I convinced you that you were Stuart’s son you would confront my uncle.” He deliberately paused. “Preferably in front of my aunt. It was possible she might believe that he had his bastard living above the garage. Can you imagine the trouble it would have caused in their marriage?” He released a low chuckle. “I never dreamed you would actually shoot both of them.”
Ronnie clenched his teeth. He didn’t believe him. Baylor couldn’t have written the letters. They had to be from Stuart to his mother.
After all, they were his proof that his real father wasn’t a nameless loser. That Ronnie Hyde was as good as all the snotty Louisville society kids, even if he couldn’t tell anyone.
If they were fake . . .
Then his entire identity was a lie.
“If it was just some game to you, then why did you help my mother cover up what I did?” Ronnie asked in a harsh voice. “And why haven’t you told anyone that I was locked in an institute instead of living with a relative?”
“It suited me to have people think my uncle was responsible. It not only allowed my father to take over the company, but it got rid of my bratty cousin. My family belonged at the Jacobs estate, but having Carrie around would always mean that my father was being compared to his dead brother. No one can match up to a saint.” A cold, calculating smile twisted Baylor’s lips. “Plus, I’d discovered you were a valuable tool.”
Ronnie shoved aside the fact that Griff Archer was hidden somewhere in the warehouse with a gun. As well as his clamoring need to destroy the woman who’d had the life that should have been his. Instead, he glared at Baylor.
This man had been nothing. A younger brother who’d lived in the shadows of his brother who was better-looking and more charming than Baylor could ever hope to be.
Everyone loved Matthew. No one even liked Baylor.
Until he’d started visiting Ronnie at the institute, Baylor hadn’t had any friends. And he certainly hadn’t had a purpose beyond his stupid work.
Ronnie had allowed him to share in his dark fantasies. And trained him to become a part of the Kill Club. In return, Baylor had helped him stay in contact with the others. He’d even helped them to escape the various facilities when Ronnie was ready to put his plans into motion. But it’d all been with the understanding that Ronnie was the one in charge.
Now Baylor was trying to change the rules. And undermine Ronnie’s confidence by rewriting the past.
Ronnie squared his shoulders. It wasn’t going to work.
“I’m not a tool,” he snapped.
Baylor flicked a dismissive gaze over him. Like he was some sort of bug that he was contemplating squashing beneath his heel.
“Of course you are,” Baylor insisted. “One that I created and nurtured over the years.”
Ronnie stepped toward his companion, waving his gun in a wild gesture.
“You’re nothing but a cowardly liar.”