Deadly Coincidence (Brantley Walker: Off the Books Book 4)

by Nicole Edwards

  However, he did believe Dante was capable of setting something like this in motion. The man was a spoiled brat, and he would go to great lengths to get what he wanted. The question would be: what the hell could he possibly want that would warrant all this?

  Brantley glanced back down at the opened book, the finger.

  Granted, Dante was also a vain idiot. Brantley seriously doubted the guy would hack off his own finger to make a point.

  “I have a hunch that belongs to Dante,” Baz said quietly.

  Yeah. That was what Brantley feared as well. Which meant this was just getting started.

  “We need to find Dante,” Reese stated. “At this point, he’s the only one who can give us answers.”

  Provided all this blood didn’t belong to him, they might have a chance of that.

  “Definitely a good place to start,” Brantley agreed, but worried that would be where they ended, instead.

  *

  “Maybe you should try callin’ him,” BAZ suggested, glancing from Brantley to Reese. “I would but I don’t know the guy.”

  Brantley was still scanning the room as he pulled out his phone, dialed.

  Baz waited patiently, hoping Dante Greenwood would answer and they could get some answers. He had no idea what those might be, or how they could possibly make any of this make sense, but what else did they have?

  It was a reach, he knew. Baz seriously doubted this would be simple—who the fuck went to these lengths only to answer the phone and cop to the crime?—but some wishful thinking certainly couldn’t hurt.

  Unfortunately, the ringing that sounded from somewhere in the living room was the next clue that getting answers from Dante wasn’t going to pan out.

  “Where is it?” Brantley asked, holding his phone away so he could listen for the direction of the ring.

  Baz pointed to the couch.

  It only took a moment to retrieve the cell phone that was tucked into a small area between the couch arm and the base. It almost looked as though it had been left there on purpose considering how everything else was in disarray. Had Dante managed to slip it there? Leaving it as a clue, maybe? Did he want them to find it?

  Brantley picked up the phone using a plastic glove he pulled out of one of his many pockets. “Let’s get Charlie to go through this, see—”

  “No,” JJ snapped. “That’s my job.”

  “Right now, your only job is to get checked out by—”

  “I’m fine,” she bit out, most of the fear Baz had witnessed earlier erased.

  JJ and Brantley faced off from their respective spots, neither of them backing down.

  As much as Baz agreed JJ needed to take care of herself and let them worry about the rest, he was happy to see some fire back in her eyes. Even if it did ring with a hint of petulance.

  “We need to call the sheriff,” Reese stated, interrupting the standoff as he held out his hand for the phone.

  Reese was right. They needed to know what happened here last night. Not only because Baz wanted to help JJ move forward but also because he could feel the fiery rage brimming beneath his skin. Whoever did this to her … hurt her … put that fear in her eyes … they would pay for the hell they put her through. That he could promise.

  Brantley was slow on the transfer, his eyes brimming with frustration. Finally, he passed the phone to Reese, who slid it into a clear plastic bag, then set it on the table next to the finger.

  “We need crime scene techs to comb through it,” Reese explained, motioning toward the living room.

  “What about JJ?” Baz asked. “She’s gonna be the prime suspect in Dante’s disappearance.”

  He could see Reese was aware of that when he said, “If Dante wasn’t the governor’s son, I’d say we could finagle this to our liking, but we don’t know what this is about. It could be a mess Dante’s gotten himself into…”

  Reese’s eyes shifted to Brantley, and Baz saw something pass between them, but he couldn’t translate it.

  “Or it could be politically driven,” Brantley added, almost as an afterthought.

  “Political?” Baz looked around. “What the fuck does this get them? This is JJ’s house. For all we know, Dante’s the one who bashed her over the head.”

  “Well, we won’t know until we investigate.”

  Baz hated that Brantley was right. This very well could be aimed at the governor and whoever was targeting Greenwood was simply using JJ to relay the message. It seemed a stretch for him, but then again, Baz had seen the criminal element at work. Often there was no rhyme or reason. Logically, at least.

  “I need to get her out of here first,” Baz told Brantley and Reese, ensuring they heard the concern in his tone. “We all know there’s enough evidence to throw suspicion on her, and if we have any hope of finding Dante, we can’t have her detained.”

  “Nor can Dante afford for the cops to be focusin’ in the wrong direction,” Brantley agreed before glancing over at Reese.

  “Whatever we do, this place has to be treated like a crime scene. We can’t confirm that’s all Dante’s blood until we test it,” Reese added, as though that should’ve been an obvious conclusion.

  This time Baz heard the underlying meaning. If that was all Dante’s blood, the chances of him still being alive … well, they were very, very slim, and unless he was at a hospital already, they were growing slimmer by the second.

  “Good point. JJ, why don’t you go change.” Brantley nodded at Reese. “You call the sheriff, report the scene.”

  Baz watched as JJ went into her room. She moved slowly, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of the blood or because she had a head injury.

  “And you”—Brantley tapped Baz on the shoulder—“call Charlie. Tell her we need her over here ASAP.”

  “Will do.”

  “And I’ll call Trey,” Brantley continued. “Have him bring over a kit. I won’t notify the governor until we know for a fact this is Dante’s finger. To know that, we’ll need to fingerprint it.”

  Reese pulled out his phone. “I’ll step outside to make the call.”

  No one spoke as Reese ventured out the front door and into the bright morning sunlight.

  “Yes, I need to speak to Sheriff Endsley,” Reese said, his voice trailing off as he stepped onto the porch.

  Baz sighed. “I can’t wrap my head around this. I thought Dante was more of a douche than a dirtbag.”

  “He is,” Brantley confirmed. “Which is why I don’t think he did this. Or if he did, he didn’t do it on his own.”

  “You don’t think he’s capable of hurtin’ JJ?”

  “Physically, no.”

  Baz wasn’t sure why that made him feel moderately better, but it did.

  “I don’t wanna go to jail,” JJ whispered, drawing all eyes to her as she emerged from her bedroom wearing a clean sweatshirt and jeans, a pair of Nikes on her feet.

  “You won’t,” Brantley stated firmly.

  “You don’t know that,” she argued.

  As much as Baz wanted to believe Brantley could control this situation, maneuver the outcome in their favor, he had his doubts. Reese was right, this place had to be handled like a crime scene. Unfortunately, JJ was smack dab in the middle of it all with the blood covering her, the knife likely used to cut off Dante’s finger in her bed… There was just too much that implicated her, especially as seen by an unbiased spectator.

  “She’s right,” Baz said. “Whoever did this wanted to implicate JJ. There’s the knife in the bed, which no doubt will have her prints on it.”

  “It’s her knife,” Brantley countered. “Of course it will.”

  “Her bloody prints,” Baz snapped, feeling the thread of his control beginning to pull tight. “Why would she be holding the knife with bloody hands? Think about it.”

  “You said she didn’t have blood on her hands.”

  “I didn’t,” JJ confirmed, holding her hands up.

  “She’s been unconscious for hours, Brantley. We have
no idea what happened here.”

  Brantley glared, obviously refraining from ripping Baz a new one. He appreciated it.

  Regardless of whether the cops found something that might implicate JJ or not, Baz wasn’t willing to take that chance.

  “She doesn’t have an alibi,” Baz continued. “She was probably the last person Dante called. Plus this is her house, her knife. She was definitely the last person to see Dante besides whoever’s behind this.”

  Brantley was staring at him, that unflappable control firmly in place, looking as though he had the ability to fix everything simply by willing it to be so. But he couldn’t. No one was that powerful.

  Even if they all wished he was.

  “Call Charlie,” Brantley breathed out slowly. “Tell her to come over here.” He jerked his phone from his pocket. “I’ll call Trey. We need to process the scene, then we’ll decide how to proceed.”

  Christ Almighty. He just didn’t get it, did he? The more people they brought in, the worse they were going to make it.

  “Brant—”

  “Call her,” Brantley barked, not bothering to look back.

  Fuck.

  Baz waited until Brantley walked out the front door before turning to JJ. She was staring up at him, her eyes glassy, as though she wasn’t quite sure what was going on.

  “Let me get you outta here,” Baz whispered, putting his arm around her shoulder.

  She leaned in, as though it was natural, and the only thing he could think about was keeping her safe, ensuring no one else hurt her. He felt her shudder, knew the shock was setting in since the adrenaline was waning.

  Because he only had one option, Baz took her hand and led her out the front door. Reese and Brantley were nowhere in sight, which he took to mean they were walking the perimeter of the house, giving him the perfect opportunity.

  Later he would wonder if Brantley had done that on purpose.

  “Should we tell them we’re leavin’?” JJ asked, her words soft with a slight tremble.

  “No.”

  To his surprise, she didn’t argue and he didn’t elaborate.

  Once in the truck, Baz buckled JJ’s seat belt for her, started the engine, and double-timed it out of the neighborhood. He hadn’t made it a mile when his cell phone began ringing, Brantley’s number on the screen.

  He ignored it. Once he got her somewhere safe, somewhere the police wouldn’t find her until they solved this, Baz would call him and explain.

  “Where are we going?” JJ asked a short time later, once they were on the interstate heading south.

  “My father’s,” he said simply.

  “Baz, that’s—”

  “He’s not home,” he told her quickly, not wanting her to panic. “They’re out of the country. Won’t be back for a couple of weeks.”

  Either she believed him and felt no need to argue or JJ was in shock, because she said nothing.

  Every so often, he would look over, noticing that JJ’s eyes were closed, her head resting on the window. It made him nervous to think she might be injured more than she would admit.

  Knowing it would likely infuriate JJ, Baz decided to make a call. If she wouldn’t let him take her to a clinic to get checked out, he would have someone come to her.

  It was times like this when he appreciated his father’s wealth. Especially since it meant there was a doctor who made house calls.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I need a fucking doctor,” Dante groaned, using the dollar bill he’d turned into a makeshift straw to sniff the white powder up his nose.

  He sighed as the relief was almost instantaneous. Thank God for cocaine; otherwise, losing a finger would’ve fucked him all to hell.

  “You’ll live. Quit your whining.”

  Whining? He was whining?

  Dante sniffed again, glaring at his partner. “I think I’ve earned the right.”

  After all, they had agreed on the plan to go to JJ’s, knock her out with a dose of something that would keep her out for a while, then spill blood everywhere. The objective was to make her think Dante had been kidnapped and injured, so that way when the ransom demand came in, his father would be more likely to believe it.

  But nowhere in any of the scenarios they’d come up with had it said anything about lobbing off his damn finger.

  “Who’re you texting?” Dante asked, watching Marcus as he paced the room, phone in hand.

  “My girl,” he said simply, leering as his thumbs tapped the screen.

  “You mean my girl,” Dante countered.

  After all, Dante had been talking to Kat first. He was the one who’d answered her from his online dating profile. He was still unclear how Marcus started chatting her up, but he found he didn’t really care anymore. The woman wasn’t all that interesting, anyway.

  “What does she want?” he heard himself ask although he honestly didn’t care.

  Marcus’s eyes were shining. He was definitely high. “She said she wanted to be in on the plan, so I was telling her how it went.”

  Dante’s entire body went cold. “What? You asked a complete stranger to be part of this?”

  Was the guy a total fucking moron?

  “She’s not a stranger, and yes. She was excited. Even asked me to do something for her. Her contribution, she said.”

  This man really was insane, and now Dante was neck deep in a scheme he wasn’t sure would play out. What was to stop this Kat chick from turning them in? Maybe she was a cop and this was a setup. Son of a bitch.

  Closing his eyes, he thought back to last night, let it play out in his head as he’d done repeatedly since they’d left JJ’s. Everything had gone perfectly up to the point Marcus showed up. Dante had called, lured her back to her house, and she’d come without question. Of course, he had to give his acting skills some credit. He was rather believable when he wanted to be.

  “What took you so fuckin’ long?” Marcus demanded when Dante opened JJ’s front door, his voice a harsh whisper. “Where’s she at?”

  “In the kitchen. Be quiet.” Dante’s gaze darted behind him to ensure she hadn’t returned to the living room.

  “What’s she doing?”

  “Making coffee.”

  “Good.” Marcus’s eyes glittered, a hint of insanity brightening them.

  “You get the drug?”

  Marcus held up a hypodermic needle, flipped it between two fingers, then stepped into the house. He strolled right by, leaving Dante to close the front door, doing his best to not make a sound. He turned and watched the small, wiry man in the cheap, dirty clothes move across the room with purpose.

  This was the part they were improvising on. Considering they hadn’t been certain JJ would even let him in her front door, they had agreed they would let things play out.

  On his way, Marcus grabbed something off one of JJ’s decorative shelves.

  Dante frowned, his brain making a dire effort to figure out what Marcus was planning to—

  He’d made it two steps when Marcus disappeared into the kitchen. Another when the first thud sounded. The second thud was louder, the equivalent of a body hitting the floor.

  Oh, God. What the hell had he done?

  Racing into the kitchen, Dante saw Marcus leaning over—

  Oh, Jesus. JJ’s motionless form was crumpled on the floor, and Marcus was leering down at her like a lion might an injured deer.

  “You did not mention how hot she is,” Marcus crooned, cutting a look at Dante. “Damn, but she’s hot.”

  “Did you hit her?” Dante exclaimed. “What the fuck? I thought you were gonna give her a shot. Knock her out.”

  “This was easier,” Marcus said, grinning when he looked over at Dante. “Faster, too.” He nodded to the syringe sitting on the counter. “But don’t worry, I’ve got it covered.”

  It was then the horror of the situation had become real for Dante. Up until that point, it had all been a plan to extort money from his father. Using JJ had only come up because Dante had
been telling Marcus about the task force his father had created. Together they decided it would be the fastest way to get his dad to agree to a payout.

  The only thing Dante had to do was call JJ, get her to meet him at her house. He’d decided to pretend he was panicked, maybe tell her someone was after him, because she was a do-gooder like that. It was likely the only way JJ would help him considering she’d turned her nose up at him this last time.

  What Dante hadn’t considered was how JJ could get hurt in the process. Just because he was irritated with her did not mean he wanted her hurt.

  “You gonna help me or what?” Marcus snapped.

  Dante shook off the foreboding feeling, focused on what was in front of him.

  Marcus grabbed JJ’s wrists and was dragging her toward the dining room, her shoes dragging on the floor. Dante immediately grabbed her ankles so they could lift her up, carry her into the bedroom.

  “Get her on the bed,” Marcus insisted.

  Dante hesitated. He didn’t like the idea of putting JJ in that bed. Definitely not with Marcus ogling her the way he was.

  “For fuck’s sake, Greenwood. Get with the program,” Marcus shouted. “I ain’t got all fuckin’ night.”

  It pained him to do it, but Dante did what Marcus asked. The two of them managed to get JJ’s limp body onto the bed. In the process, her sweatshirt had lifted, revealing her flat belly. When he saw Marcus grin, Dante immediately yanked the shirt down, covering her.

  “Take her shoes off.”

  “Why?”

  “Just fuckin’ do it.”

  Dante gritted his teeth in frustration but did as he was told while Marcus slipped out of the room.

  Once he was finished removing her shoes, Dante looked down at the woman he’d been in love with at one point in his life. Well, as “in love” as he was capable of, anyway. JJ’d been right to dump him half a dozen times, of that he had no doubt. But the last time… The last time, Dante had intended to do right by her. Unfortunately, the addiction had won out, and he’d fucked it all up again.

  Marcus returned. “Catch.”

  Dante had just enough time to lift his hands to keep the plastic two-liter bottle full of animal blood from hitting him in the face.