Chapter 8 - THE REVERSAL
The blinding headlights of the SUV pinned me to the wet grass.
“Don't move,” the larger of the two men growled, racking the slide of his pistol.
Mason groaned, rolling over in the wet grass. He pointed a shaking finger at me.
“He destroyed the deed!” Mason rasped, clutching his shoulder. “He tore it up! Kill him! Take the seal!”
The man with the gun aimed it squarely at my chest. I stood completely still, the heavy iron seal burning a hole in my jacket pocket. I thought of Amy and Frederick in the hotel room. I had promised them I would fix this.
“You destroy the deed, you destroy our collateral,” the gunman said, his voice cold and emotionless. “That means the debt falls back on you, Bradley.”
“The debt belongs to my mother,” I said, keeping my voice steady despite the adrenaline roaring in my ears. “I didn't sign anything.”
“We don't care about signatures,” the second man sneered, stepping closer. “We care about payment. Get in the SUV.”
Suddenly, the front door of the townhouse flew open.
My mother stood on the porch, bleeding from a cut on her hand, her clothes stained with wine. When she saw the armed men, her face went stark white.
“Teresa,” the gunman said casually, not taking his eyes off me. “Your son just cost us a house. Looks like we’re taking him instead.”
For a split second, I looked at my mother. I expected her to beg for my life. I expected her to offer herself in my place, to finally act like a mother.
Instead, Teresa took a step back into the doorway.
“Take him,” my mother said, her voice shaking but completely devoid of love. “He’s the one who tore up the paper. It’s his fault. Just leave me alone.”
The absolute betrayal hit me like a physical blow. But it also set me free. Any lingering guilt I had about destroying her was instantly erased.
“You heard the lady,” the gunman said, motioning with his pistol. “In the car.”
I took a slow step toward the SUV. I reached into my jacket, pretending to reach for my wallet, but my fingers wrapped tightly around the heavy, solid iron of my grandfather’s notary seal.
“Wait,” I said, stopping a few feet from the gunman. “If you kill me, you get nothing. But I know where John Vance keeps the corporate embezzlement funds.”
The gunman hesitated. “Vance?”
“He has over two hundred thousand in a slush fund,” I lied smoothly, buying seconds. “I have the account numbers on my phone.”
The gunman lowered his pistol a fraction of an inch to look at my pocket.
That was all I needed.
I didn't reach for my phone. I whipped my arm out, hurling the heavy iron notary seal directly at the gunman’s face with everything I had.
The solid iron block struck him squarely in the bridge of the nose with a sickening crunch.
He screamed, dropping his gun as he fell backward onto the hood of the SUV.
The second man lunged at me, reaching for his weapon.
I dove for the dropped pistol on the grass, but before either of us could reach it, the night exploded with sound.
WOOP WOOP!
A blinding spotlight hit the lawn from the end of the street, accompanied by the deafening wail of police sirens. Not just one cruiser. Four Nashville PD cars swarmed the street, screeching to a halt and blocking the SUV’s escape path.
“NPD! DROP YOUR WEAPONS! GET ON THE GROUND!”
The second thug froze, throwing his hands in the air.
Officers swarmed the lawn, weapons drawn. I backed away slowly, raising my empty hands.
From behind the barricade of police cars, a familiar figure emerged.
It was John Vance.
He was walking beside the lead detective. John looked terrified, but he pointed a shaking finger directly at Mason and the two thugs.
“That’s them,” John told the detective. “That’s Mason, the man who blackmailed me. And those are the men who run the illegal gambling ring.”
The police moved in, slapping handcuffs on the thugs and dragging a cursing Mason up from the grass.
I stared at John as the detective approached me.
“Mr. Bradley,” the detective said, lowering his flashlight. “Your boss came into the precinct an hour ago. He confessed to corporate embezzlement and provided us with a full digital record of the blackmail scheme involving your mother and your cousin.”
I looked at John. “Why did you do it, John?”
“You told me to let them try to come after your family,” John said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I realized I couldn't live with myself if they hurt your wife or your kid to cover my mistakes. I’m going to prison, Connor. But I wasn't going to let them take you down with me.”
I nodded slowly, a profound sense of relief washing over me.
The detective turned toward the townhouse porch.
My mother was trying to quietly close the front door and retreat inside.
“Teresa Bradley!” the detective shouted. “Step out of the house with your hands visible!”
Teresa froze. She looked at the police, then at Mason being shoved into a cruiser, and finally at me.
“Connor, tell them!” she cried out, her arrogant facade completely shattered. “Tell them I didn't know what Mason was doing! Tell them I’m your mother!”
I walked slowly over to the porch, standing at the bottom of the steps. I looked up at the woman who had brought me into this world, and who had tried to destroy it.
“You’re not my mother, Teresa,” I said, my voice cold and final. “You’re just the woman who washed the dishes.”
May you like
I turned my back on her as the officers moved in to read her her rights.
I didn't look back as she screamed my name.
