Jackass Boss [COMPLETED]

Piggyback

I trailed after Mr. Erickson down the staircase, curiosity tugging at me.

"We're cancelling today's plan. I've got something to take care of," Mr. Erickson announced firmly to Tanya, who was lounging with Emanuel nearby.

"What? Why?" Tanya shot up, her expression crumpling in disbelief.

"Tanya, must you question every damn thing I say?" he snapped without even glancing at her.

"But I want an answer, damn it! Do you know how long I've been waiting for this day?" she barked, clearly furious.

I frowned. What day is she talking about? Their anniversary or something?

"It's just your father's birthday party, Tanya. Not a big deal. You've got Emanuel with you," he said calmly, pulling on his jacket. "But Andrew's gone missing. I need to find him."

Tanya scoffed, her lips curling with disdain. "Since when do you care about those orphans?"

Mr. Erickson froze.

His voice dropped an octave. "Orphans? Are you fucking kidding me?" he roared, making the walls tremble. Tanya jumped, visibly startled.

"They have me. And if you ever insult them again, I won't hesitate to throw you out of my house. Actually—" He stepped forward, eyes blazing cold. "Get. Out."

Tanya paled instantly.

Couldn't really blame her. Maybe she'd never seen this side of him before—this ruthless, unyielding protector who didn't give a damn about opinions, expectations, or fake smiles. That's one thing I liked about Mr. Erickson. He didn't sugarcoat things for anyone. If Tanya thought she had some sort of claim over him, sorry sweetheart, you've gravely underestimated the man.

With a click of her heels and a flurry of attitude, Tanya stormed out of the hall, Emanuel quietly following behind her.

I watched them leave, still trying to figure Emanuel out. Was he good? Bad? Somewhere in between?

Meanwhile, Mr. Erickson wasted no time. He pulled some strings and had Mr. Holden, head of security, track Andrew's phone. Within minutes, we were in a sleek black car, Mr. Erickson in the front passenger seat, me tucked behind him, adrenaline starting to spike.

Mr. Holden slowed down near a narrow, grimy alley.

"We can't go further by car, Mr. Erickson. Too tight," he informed.

"No problem. We'll walk from here," Mr. Erickson said, already unbuckling.

We moved deeper into the alley. The further we went, the darker it got. The walls rose high on both sides, smothering the already faint sky. At the end of the narrow lane, I spotted a figure crumpled on the ground.

Andrew.

Another guy was kicking him, over and over again, laughing like a maniac. "Touch my brother again, you little punk? You got guts, huh?" He kicked Andrew's ribs again, hard.

I moved to rush forward—but Mr. Erickson beat me to it.

He appeared in front of Andrew in a flash, caught the thug's leg mid-kick and stared him down with eyes like ice.

"Well, sorry for the interruption," Mr. Erickson said smoothly. "But you just picked the wrong guy to mess with, asshole." With that, he slammed a solid punch into the guy's jaw, sending him stumbling back.

The goon's backup growled like wild animals behind him.

Seriously? Are they men or stray dogs?