Read Loving Leo (The Romanovsky Brothers Book 3) Online
Authors: Trevion Burns
The rain pattered relentlessly on the window, rendering the wipers sweeping tirelessly back and forth on the windshield utterly useless. A flash of lightening accompanied the heavy pours, splitting through the night sky in the distance, quickly followed by a powerful crack of thunder. Most cars on the road slowed their pace, humbled by Mother Nature’s crystal clear warning, and her inevitable wrath.
He, however, was not moved. He was not humbled.
He pressed his foot harder on the pedal.
Thinking of his family, his brothers, his life, everything he’d done to cause himself and the people who meant the most to him pain, had left him fearless. He no longer feared injury, or even death.
In some frightening part of him, he almost welcomed it. Death couldn’t be any worse than the guilt that ate away at him. The guilt of knowing that his family would lose everything because of his own reckless actions. Knowing he could have put a stop to all of it, if only he’d had the strength.
He was going to put a stop to it now. Before the sun had a chance to rise on another day filled with fear, guilt and lies. Before the sun shone light on another day his family would be forced to live in agony.
He pressed down harder, hearing the wheels screaming against the slick road as it struggled to keep up with his lead foot.
The car swerved and almost went off the road, prompting the drivers around him to slow down and get out of his way, lest they be taken down with him in his reckless journey.
He chuckled at the sight of cars skidding to dodge him. They were right to get out of his way, out of his path, and out of his life.
Every person who’d made the mistake of
staying
in his life was eventually destroyed. It was happening right before his eyes. Just when he thought it was under control, another bomb was dropped. Another heart-churning reminder that this was never going to end.
Not until he ended it.
He would
have
to end it if he wanted to protect his family. If he didn’t, they would incinerate. Even if not by his own hand, then by his actions.
It was inevitable.
And it would be all his fault.
As he flew toward his destination, car still heart-poundingly unstable on the slick road, he could no longer tell if the water on the windshield was blurring his vision, or the moisture in his eyes.
He didn’t know how he made it to his destination alive. He didn’t even remember parking the car. He didn’t remember climbing out with his phone still buzzing in the cup holder, keys still in the ignition, engine still running. He didn’t even bother closing the door, leaving the custom-made leather interior to be destroyed by the merciless showers.
He didn’t remember the rain assaulting his body as he walked through the parking lot, taking ownership over every inch of him, pasting his hair to his forehead, his clothes to his trembling limbs, and his eyelashes to his reddened cheeks.
He didn’t remember losing his footing as he navigated between the tightly parked cars in the lot, cradling his weight on the hoods of several when his limbs weakened underneath him, daring him to take another step.
He didn’t remember pulling open the door to the building, or the curious looks from the people milling around inside.
He moved to the middle of the sprawling, bustling office, finding himself comforted by the noise. Reporters scattered around the room like ants, barking into phones, zigzagging through dozens of cluttered desks, tapping away on laptops with pens trapped between their teeth, screaming across the open office when a big lead came through.
Climbing on top of a desk in the middle of the room, he stood tall, dripping a small sea’s worth of water on the tattered desk under his feet.
He didn’t remember the sudden peace that calmed his freezing bones when the first reporter noticed him, stopping in her tracks, phone call forgotten.
He didn’t remember the second reporter either, a man at the desk next to him, gazing up at him from his computer, pen falling from between his teeth.
He didn’t remember the fourth, fifth, sixth reporter.
He didn’t remember when the office came to a complete stop, a heavy silence settling in as all eyes landed on him.
But he did remember what he said next.
The words he’d been fighting
not
to say for ten long years.
Words that had to be spoken before the shelter they’d taken in his crumbling body destroyed his family for good.
Words he couldn’t say to the police, but he could say to the
New York Post.
No more secrets. No more pain.
Not because of him.
His family had protected him his entire life, and it was time for him to start protecting them the same way.
His trembling lips fell open, and the truth finally spilled out, right along with the tears jetting passed his wounded green eyes.
“My name is Gary Romanovsky.” His voice quivered in the silence, along with his hands, which he tugged into tight fists. “And ten years ago… I killed two people.”
Coming Soon
The explosive finale to The Romanovsky Brothers Series:
Gary
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