Rich Radiant and Over Him (Alicia and Vincent) novel Chapter 362

The warehouse on the outskirts of town was cold and silent.

Mayfield Lawson came to, disoriented, wrists bound and dangling from the rafters. A blindfold pressed against his eyes, shutting out the darkness even more completely.

“Talk,” a gruff voice growled. “Who told you to have someone run down Tyrone Lynch?” The man punctuated his demand with a brutal punch to Mayfield’s stomach.

Mayfield was the Lawson family’s bastard son—one of several, and by far the most favored. He was clever, though not quite in Vincent Lawson’s league, and certainly more ruthless than most. For Mayfield, the end always justified the means. He was a petty man, a schemer, willing to stoop to anything if it got him ahead.

“Stop—stop! I don’t know what you’re talking about! You’d better let me go, or when my father finds out, you’ll regret it!” Mayfield screamed, panic rising with the pain.

The thug glanced over at Tyrone.

Across the room, Tyrone Lynch lounged against a battered table, cigarette glowing in the gloom. The metallic click of his lighter echoed through the cavernous space.

Vincent Lawson stood nearby, silent and unreadable. He wasn’t here for Mayfield’s sake—he just wanted to know who was really behind the hit on Tyrone, and maybe strike a deal with Tyrone himself. The less Mayfield knew about Vincent’s presence, the better. Things would get messy otherwise.

Tyrone caught Vincent’s eye and gave a slight nod, signaling for the interrogation to continue.

The henchman grabbed a metal rod and drove it into Mayfield’s gut, then unleashed a flurry of savage blows.

Mayfield howled, sobbing, pleading for mercy, but refused to give up a name.

“Your little brother’s got a tough mouth,” Tyrone quipped, glancing at Vincent.

Vincent’s expression was cold. “Whoever’s behind this, Mayfield’s too scared to give them up. If he thought he could get away with it, he’d have talked by now.”

Tyrone nodded at his man. “Didn’t you spend a few years as a mercenary in the Middle East? Don’t tell me that’s all you’ve got. Use some of those tricks you picked up overseas. Just make sure he stays alive.”

Vincent’s jaw tightened. “Don’t lump me in with them. I had nothing to do with this.”

Tyrone smirked. “What’s the plan, then? Use me to get rid of your brother, and then your father too?”

Vincent bristled. In truth, he’d hoped he and Tyrone could take down whoever was pulling Mayfield’s strings—and maybe get rid of Mayfield along the way. He hadn’t expected the trail to lead straight to his own father.

“My father can’t be the mastermind. Someone had to have put him up to it. He passed the job to Mayfield, that idiot.” Vincent’s voice was hushed as he and Tyrone stepped out of the warehouse.

He couldn’t seriously consider teaming up with Tyrone to take out his own father.

“Your dad—if this were the Middle Ages, he’d be the kind of man who casts out his wife for a mistress. Not only that, he brings all his illegitimate brats into Lawson & Co., like some twisted breeding experiment. Everything at Lawson & Co. should’ve been yours, but now you’re forced to split the spoils with these halfwit nobodies. Doesn’t that eat at you?” Tyrone’s words dripped with malice, probing for cracks in Vincent’s resolve.