I grew stronger living through the hell that was Buffington Academy. Secluded in the Adirondacks, the school was home to the most spoiled young men in the world…and the most troubled. After two weeks, I knew I didn’t belong there, but I spent four years in that hellhole.

Those years made me wish for juvie.

But no, my parents didn’t turn me in. Instead…Buffington.

I spent those years plotting my father’s demise, but of course by the time I turned eighteen and released myself, I knew better. I’d learned my lesson. My father wasn’t worth it. Trying to take him out had cost me four years of my life.

Even so, I dreamed of his death. It was no less than he deserved.

But when it finally happened, I was totally unprepared.

“Dad’s dead,” my brother Reid said into the phone when I answered.

I froze, as if ice water had replaced the blood in my veins.

“Did you hear me?”

“Yeah. Yeah. What happened?”

“We’re not sure yet. But I have to ask you, bro…”

“What?”

“Were you anywhere near Dad’s penthouse last night?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Someone shot him in the head in the penthouse.”

I couldn’t help a chuckle. Most guys might freak out hearing this kind of news. Not me. The bastard had it coming.

“They’re going to get in touch with you,” Reid continued.

“I’m at my cabin, Reid. And by the way, you don’t sound too broken up.”

“None of us are. He was a bastard. That’s public knowledge.”

“So why the interrogation? There’re a thousand people who probably wanted him dead.”

“True, but Dad sent you away when you were so young. The cops are going to think you might be getting back at him.”

“Don’t you think I’d have done something before now?”

“Whatever, man. Still, Riley, Roy, and I need to know. Did this in any way involve you?”

“I just told you. I’m home.”

“You could have hired it out.”

Seriously? I’d been a model citizen since I left Buffington—well, maybe not model in the sense of perfect, since I’d been arrested in a biker brawl once, but I hadn’t started it and the charges were dropped. I’d driven after too many drinks a few times, but I hadn’t gotten caught. I’d made my own money, never stole a dime. And never took one penny from that motherfucker who’d fathered me. Not that he would have given me any. I had a few biker buds who might have been able to handle a contract on a human life, but I’d have never asked.