I wake in a hospital bed to the sound of beeping machinery. It’s the hospital bed in my mansion, I realize, glancing out the window and seeing the gardens in the back of the grounds lit by moonlight. I blink away the blurriness in my eyes and see Camille and Jen sleeping side-by-side on the couch. Jen’s head is leaning on Camille’s shoulder and Camille’s head is leaned over Jen’s. I grin to see it. It can’t be coincidence that the first woman Jen has ever seemed to approve of feels so special to me. I refuse to believe it.

Jen. She’s here. I let my head fall back onto the pillow with relief, and say the first prayer of thanks I’ve said in probably a decade. It’s not eloquent, but it’ll have to do, and I’ll just hope the big guy forgives me. Thank you for bringing my little girl back. Thank you so fucking much. Ah--I mean, freaking much. Um, amen.

I struggle to remember how we got Jen back, but everything leading up to the gunshot is still fuzzy. It all comes back in bits and pieces. I hear the sounds of gunfire first and smell the smoke. I remember the way Camille looked up at me when she thought I might be running off to my death. There was love there, real love, not the kind shit women like to hear themselves say after they’ve been in a relationship a few months. It’s not just an empty word here. I know that now.

And fuck… She saved me, didn’t she? I remember seeing her standing there with the tire iron, face a picture of surprise after she hit the guy who had me wrapped up and let me get free.

And I remember the muzzle flash. The brief explosion of fire from the point of the pistol in Sean’s hand and the thudding impact in my chest. I look down now and see a square of gauze stained through with red over the spot.

But Jen is back. It was all worth it. I don’t know what the cost was or what still lies ahead of us, but having my little girl back and having Camille safe makes it worth whatever price we paid.

Aside from a dull ache, there is hardly any pain. Maybe they have me drugged up, but if they do it can’t be very strong, because my mind feels clear.

I notice the nurse next. She’s a matronly woman with stern features. She looks over her shoulder and sees I’m awake.

“Don’t try to sit up,” she says quietly, probably trying not to wake Jen and Camille. “You’re recovering well, but you need to stay in bed for at least a few more days while the stitches are fresh.”

“How long was I out?” I ask.

She glances at the clock. “About a day. They haven’t left except to go to the bathroom,” she says, nodding to Jen and Camille. “You’re a lucky man.”

I grin. “Yeah, I know.”

“If he was lucky he wouldn’t have gotten shot,” says Camille.

I turn my head and see the two of them are waking up, blinking through their sleepiness.

Jen gets up and comes to my side, hugging me gently as if she’s afraid I’ll break.

I run my fingers through her hair, hugging her small head to the uninjured side of my chest, telling myself I’ll never come close to taking her for granted again. “I’m so fucking glad you’re safe,” I say.

“Daddy! Language,” she laughs, pulling back and smiling. “I’m going to give you two some alone time. Ahem!” She adds, looking at the nurse, who purses her lips in disapproval, but moves to leave the room.

The nurse pauses at the door. “He’s still recovering, mind you,” she says to Camille.

Camille looks indignant. “What do you think I’m going to do?”

The nurse gives her a knowing look, closing the door.

Camille looks down at me, biting her lip and looking absolutely fucking gorgeous. “I think she thought I was going to jump your bones or something.”

“You aren’t? Damn,” I say.

She laughs. “You’ve got more wires in you than a computer. And you know, there’s the whole bullet wound thing. I bet you’re going to love milking that story at bars to pick up women,” she says, voice a little strange.

“There’s only one woman I want to pick up,” I say.

“Have I met her?” asks Camille. I think she intends it as a joke, but her eyes are so wide and intent on me that it’s funny for entirely different reasons.

“Camille. I knew I wanted you from the moment I took you out of that shithole motel. Nothing between us has changed that, the way I feel about you has only become more clear to me. You’re the one. I mean that with every fucking fiber of my being. You’re the one.”

She looks down, wiping at her eyes. “I really like you too.”

I bark a laugh that hurts my chest. “Damn. You’re not very good at this, are you?”

She slaps my shoulder playfully, but scowls. “Don’t tease me.”

“Wouldn’t dare,” I say.

She bites her lip and then quickly leans down, planting a kiss on me that is sweet, warm, and passionate. When she pulls back her cheeks are beautifully red and she’s smiling shyly. “There. That’s how I feel about you.”

“If I knew we could let actions speak for themselves, I’d have had my cock in you five minutes ago.”

“Dean!” she says, laughing and looking toward the door.

“So, everyone is okay, right? Murph and Tanner? The security contractors? And what happened to Sean?”

“Murph and Tanner are okay,” she says. “Some of the security guys were killed though, and they said the guys working for Sean--or Barry, I guess--lost even more men.”

“Fuck,” he says. “I completely forgot about Barry. I’m going to have to find a way to handle that. Did police get involved?”

“No,” she says. “The security guys said they sent a clean up crew out and made sure no one will think twice about what happened. And Sean…” There’s a strange look on her face. She swallows hard before continuing. “One of the security guys went after him and the big guy with the tire iron. The two of them tried to fight him off and he said he had no choice but to gun them down. They’re dead. Sean’s dead…”

“I’m sorry, Camille,” I say, not sure if that’s what she needs to hear, but figuring it’s better safe than sorry with something like this.

“Don’t be. You know I almost killed him myself? In cold blood. I shot him in the leg and he was lying there on the ground trying to tell me how he loved me and always had. I was so close to doing it, to just pulling the trigger and ending his bullshit once and for all. But I didn’t.”

“Why?” I ask.

“It felt like that would be letting him win. Like all the anger he poured into me since I met him was just to corrupt me and make me into being like him. Shooting him would’ve been like giving in, I think. So don’t be sorry. I wanted to do it, and sparing him was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I’m not sad that he’s gone. Not at all.”

Once I’ve had a chance to catch up with my brothers and Jen came by one more time, I have the room to myself. I pull out my cell and call Barry. While it rings, I open a recording app that one of my lawyers suggested I get a few years back. The app records every word of the call, and I just have to hope Barry is dumb and cocky enough to incriminate himself.

“Dean?” he asks. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Don’t bullshit me. I know this was all your doing. You paid off my security. You brought in Sean and his deadbeat friends. You kidnapped my daughter and tried to have me killed. Just tell me one thing. Why?”

He laughs. “Come on, Dean. This is pathetic. Where are you right now, licking your wounds in a hospital bed?”

“How would you know that?” I ask.

“That’s beside the point. I think you should just focus on reflecting. Maybe think about what a fool you were to pass the company on to Peterson. You might even consider if these unfortunate events you’re referring to would go away if Peterson was to sell me his majority shares.”

“You did all this to get the company from me?”

“I didn’t say that,” says Barry, but I can hear in his voice he’s not being secretive out of paranoia, it’s out of a gloating kind of satisfaction. He thinks he’s toying with me.

“And what happens if I don’t say shit to Peterson? What if I think the company should never fall into your hands?”

“Then you’ll fucking regret it,” snaps Barry, losing all pretense of calm. “You think this is a game, Sharp?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “From the sounds of it, I’ve just had a terrible streak of bad luck. Why would helping you benefit me at all?”

“Because what I did to your daughter and that little girlfriend of yours will look like a slap on the wrist if you test me. I got to her once. I can do it again.”

“You’d kidnap my daughter?” I ask.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do. I deserve to run this company. I fucking deserve it.”

“Great. It was good to catch up, Barry. Maybe we’ll talk again.”

I hang up the phone, pull the app up, and forward the recorded conversation to my lawyer with a brief message: Bury him.