by Coralee June
“So what if Taylor’s a good for nothing criminal? He’s good for business. The firm has never been better,” Mr. Livingston said, clapping his hands together as he went for forced joviality.
When Stephanie moved to re-cross her legs so that they were pointed toward him, he licked his lips and let his eyes linger way too long at the hem of her skirt. What kind of sick fucker looked at a girl his daughter’s age with his daughter sitting right there? I felt Scarlett stiffen beside me, and I knew she felt a mixture of being embarrassed and pissed. I had the urge to grab her hand and offer her reassurance. This was hard for her, so I slid my fingers across the table and grabbed hers with a gentle squeeze.
“He’s not going to actually hurt you, Scarlett, but you kids should fall in line, just like the rest of us,” Mr. Livingston said, his tone condescending.
“Are you serious?” Scarlett asked furiously.
“I’m his law partner. Why would I do anything?”
“Because if you don’t, I’ll have my parents ruin your firm with a single phone call,” a dark voice said before the chair beside Scarlett was pulled out and Rogue sat down.
Shit.
He was totally going to kick my ass for bringing his girl down here and touching her. In all my focusing on Rachel, I forgot the one part of my plan that ensured Rogue didn’t interfere and haul Scarlett home caveman style like the overprotective asshole he was. Rogue was on Rachel duty tonight. Unfortunately for me, Rachel had come here, and Rogue found out anyway.
“Kelly,” Mr. Livingston greeted him with a frown while eyeing the way Rogue put his arm over Scarlett’s shoulders.
I glanced over, and sure enough, Rachel was already gone. Shit, if Rogue was here, who would be watching her? We needed to wrap up this little meeting fast.
“I don’t respond well to threats,” Scarlett’s dad told him.
“That makes two of us, Livingston. And I definitely don’t like that Gerald Taylor is threatening Scarlett or the rest of us, including his own son. I don’t like it so much, in fact, that I might actually have to call up my father. He wouldn’t be very happy, would he?”
Mr. Livingston looked like he wanted to puke, his face turned a bright shade of green at the very real threat Rogue offered. I understood that. Rogue’s father, the elusive Mr. Kelly, was scary as fuck.
It took Mr. Livingston a moment to respond, but I saw the exact moment Scar’s daddy caved. “What do you need?”
“Evidence.”
Mr. Livingston scoffed just as Stephanie got up to order herself another drink, likely bored because she was no longer the center of attention. She didn’t care to know about Savannah scandals, she just wanted to bring men to their knees. “You know I can’t do that. Taylor keeps his shit locked tight.”
“Well, then we’re done here. Come on, baby,” Rogue said to Scar as he pulled her to her feet and wrapped an arm around her, letting his hand rest on her ass. He looked about ready to fuck her right there in the middle of the damn bar just to prove to himself that she was safe. “I have a phone call to make.”
“Wait!” Mr. Livingston said desperately, his arms flinging up. “Your father and I have a good relationship. Let’s not ruin it.”
Yeah, he wouldn’t want that because Rogue Kelly’s father was in arms dealings, among other things. Scarlett’s daddy got a piece of that very lucrative pie, and he didn’t want it to be taken from him.
Rogue looked at him dispassionately. “Then I suggest you find a way to unlock it. If you think Gerald Taylor going down will be bad for business, just wait until I’m through with you. We’re done here.” Rogue turned and hauled Scarlett away, sending me a look that said he’d be talking to me later, with his fists in my face.
I got up from the chair and smirked at Mr. Livingston, who was now stress drinking. I pulled out my wallet and started counting out bills before flinging them on the table. “I need hard evidence, Livingston, and I need it now.”
Without another word, I grabbed Stephanie from the bar and led her outside. I hoped that Rogue’s threat was enough to convince Mr. Livingston to get me what I needed. His parents had the most power in Savannah, probably even more than the Macon Mob, but my father was cutting me off at every corner. If I wasn’t trying to find shit out, I was having to watch my back. At any moment, Eddie could get tired of waiting for me and take me out and then go after Rachel. I knew they were watching me. Making me feel the pressure of the ticking clock by keeping eyes on me. A black car had been spotted twice outside of Rogue’s mansion.
This meeting with Mr. Livingston was the last lead I had, thanks to Scar, and now Rogue would undoubtedly be pissed at me for putting her in harm’s way while he was off looking after my girl. I’d feel guilty if I didn’t think he was being absolutely ridiculous.
When I walked out into the alley with Stephanie in tow, I had my eyes peeled for blonde hair and a jaded smile. But just as I was swinging my head to look up the street, a hard fist intercepted me, catching me in the face, and I fell against the building with a harsh smack to my head.
“Fucking asshole!” Rogue said before massaging his fist and winding back for another blow. We were loyal to a fault, but Rogue promised me long ago that if I ever touched or threatened his girl again, blood would be spilled.
“Rogue, stop! This was my idea!” Scarlett yelled as another blow landed in my gut, making me fall to the ground. I deserved it, and I’d owned up that this would happen once he found out. But getting a beat down from Rogue wasn’t like the pain my father delivered. He hit with a purpose, and I knew it was killing him to hurt me.
“I’m off watching your girl, and you put mine at risk?” Rogue demanded. “If anyone would have seen you in there with Mr. Livingston, the Macon Mob would be at our doorsteps with guns and a promise within the hour. What the fuck were you thinking, meeting him here of all places?” He held out his hand to help me up, and I briefly wondered if he was putting me back on my feet just to send me back down to the concrete.
“It’s where Daddy wanted us to meet. We couldn’t change venues ’cause he would have gotten suspicious,” Scarlett explained as I wiped blood from my lip.
“It was a shitty bar,” Stephanie began. “Couldn’t even get the bartender to get me a chardonnay.”
Her shrill voice made me wanna puke. “For fuck’s sake, do you ever think about anyone but yourself?” I asked.
“That’s real big coming from you,” Rogue interrupted.
“Enough!” Scarlett yelled while looking at all of us. She let out a huff of air before tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. “We didn’t include you because you’ve been a little suffocating lately. I know you’re worried about me, Rogue, but Godfrey’s my friend, too. I wanted to help. This was my idea. My plan. You want to fight someone, you better look at me, baby, ’cause I’m the one that coordinated this little outing. Why do you think I suggested you give Luis the night off and follow Rachel yourself?”
“Shit! Rachel,” I groaned while looking down the sidewalk. It still pissed me off that Rocco hadn’t left town like I’d told him to, or made any moves against the gang. “Did you see where she went? We need to follow her.” I was about ready to start screaming her name while walking the streets of Savannah, but I was stopped when Rogue grabbed my arm.
“Luis is following her. I called him the moment I saw you. He’s trailing her and that sorry shit back to her house.”
I exhaled in relief, suddenly feeling even shittier for risking Scar while he was still making sure Rachel was safe.
Scarlett grabbed Rogue’s hand, and a flash of the inevitable fighting and fucking that they’d be doing letter flashed across my mind. I smirked at the look on her face. Yep. Scarlett planned this little outing alright, and she knew she’d be reaping the benefits of her disobedience later.
“Do you think he’ll help us?” I asked.
Rogue looked back at the door of the bar before answering me. “I think so, but we should have a failsafe, just to cover our
asses. Let me know what you come up with, I’m taking Scarlett home.” Rogue didn’t wait for my answer, he simply picked up Scar and braced her over his shoulder on his way to his car, not sparing us a second glance. If I had to make a bet, my money would be on them not even making it home before they jumped each other’s bones.
I stood there, thinking for a moment, when an idea came to me. Grabbing her arm, I started walking while explaining my plan. “Stephanie, I want you to search my father’s office.”
“You want me to do what?” We had just made it to my car, and she huffed when I didn’t open the door for her.
Stephanie’s voice was grating on my nerves. I remember a time in freshman year when I actually wanted to talk to her, but that had ended faster than me jacking off in the shower when I was twelve.
I didn’t bother looking over at her as she got in the passenger seat. “Is your IQ really so low that you don’t understand the words coming out of my mouth?” I drawled.
“Fuck you, Godfrey,” she said as she adjusted the seat belt over her chest. It was a good chest, I’d give her that. I’d had my fair share of time spent with it. I still thought about how it had looked smashed up against Scarlett’s body when we went to her house to grab the evidence we’d stashed there. I was a boob man, but even though she wore a shirt with plenty of cleavage showing, it didn’t do anything for me tonight. I’d been far more interested in checking out Rachel’s body, even if she had worn that loose t-shirt. I’d held her tits in my hands, and they’d felt fucking perfect. And now, Beau Goddamn Boedecker was probably touching them. My hand tightened on the steering wheel as I cut off traffic, ignoring the horns blaring.
“So you just want me to waltz into your father’s office and what? Go through his filing cabinet?” Stephanie demanded.
I rolled my eyes. “Did I say that? No. I want you to fucking hire him. I know about your DUI,” I said, shooting her a look. Her cheeks turned red, and she turned an angry and embarrassed gaze out the window. “Talk to him. Flirt a little. Play dumb. You’re good at that.”
“You’re such a fucking prick.”
I smirked. “If he steps out of the room or gets distracted, then you move. Take pictures of everything on your phone, I don’t care how inconsequential it is. I need incriminating dirt on the bastard, or this whole plan goes to shit, and the gang goes after us. Maybe even you, since you’re involved now,” I admitted. Scarlett would probably give me hell for using Stephanie again, but desperate times and all that.
“Why don’t you just go look for it yourself then?” she shot back.
I had. So many fucking times. But I’d never been able to have access into his work office unless he was behind his desk berating me or barking orders. I couldn’t ask any of the guys to try this, or Scarlett, but Stephanie? She was the judge’s kid and a hot, young eighteen-year-old. I had a feeling my father would fit her into his schedule.
“Are you up for it or not?” I retorted. I knew if I challenged her, she’d rise up to meet it. She was like Rachel in that regard.
“You’ll hook me up with Bonham?” she asked, and I couldn’t stop from rolling my eyes. It always came back to Bonham.
“I’m not a fucking matchmaker. I’ll invite you over when Bonham’s there, and you can talk to him.”
I was getting fucking desperate if I was asking Stephanie Palmisano to help me like this, but she was equally as desperate to win over Bonham. She had been for years. She kept jumping from Heir to Heir, trying to get his attention. Too bad Bonham didn’t work like that. I didn’t expect her to actually find anything on my father, but at the very least, it was an unexpected move on the game board. Even if she got caught, it would encourage Palmisano not to back out on our deal, and maybe even provide more of an incentive to get me the arrest warrant I needed. He wouldn’t want my father messing with Steph. I wanted my father, Mr. Livingston, and Judge Palmisano so on edge that they couldn’t take a fucking step without falling.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Rachel
By the time Beau dropped me off, I’d stopped feeling sorry for myself. Fuck Godfrey Taylor. I had already let men claim my happiness once, so what the fuck was I doing giving such power to a man again? Especially when in reality, he’d only had a few measly days of my time? Once again, I had let him take my focus away from my revenge, and it was pissing me off.
“Dad!” I called as I walked through the house, switching on lights and kicking piles of laundry on the floor. I was in a mood, and I wanted to do something about all the shitty emotions that kept controlling me.
“Dad!” I yelled again more insistently.
He hadn’t mentioned that he would be out tonight, so I knew he was around here somewhere. Probably reading an Old West novel or playing himself at chess. Dad needed to get out more.
I heard a rustle in his bedroom and traveled down the dark hallway, my steps clicking against the hardwood floors as my eyes caught on an old photo of mom hanging on the wall. I was feeling anxious, that familiar bubbling of the need to act leaving streaks down my nerves and painting me raw.
“Dad?” There was more rustling, and instead of knocking, I barged in without a thought.
And dammit. I really wished I would have freaking knocked.
There, on Dad’s oversized bed, was none other than Dr. Taffy. Her legs were high up in the air as my dad bumped nasties with her seventies-worthy bush.
“Oh my God!!” I screamed before slapping a hand over my eyes, but it was too late. The damage was done.
I’d seen the way she bit her pale pink lips and moaned. I’d forever be haunted by my fifty-year-old dad’s sweaty face as he scrunched it up in concentration.
“Rachel!” my dad yelled. “Get out!”
Oh, God, I was going to be sick. Disgust hit me like a punch to the gut. No one should ever be subjected to this sort of torture. “Put a fucking sock on the door!” I screamed back.
I fled the room like it was on fire, slamming the door behind me. I ran to the kitchen and grabbed the first bottle of alcohol I could find. If I could have poured it into my eyes, I would have. Maybe I could scrub my brain raw with whiskey.
After taking a swig of vodka, I rushed into the living room and turned the TV on, putting the volume up as loud as it would go. I had to drown out the noise of my father sexing it up with Dr. Taffy or my ears were going to start bleeding. The irony that the TV blared with an old rerun of Family Feud was not lost on me.
When Dr. Taffy came rushing down the hallway, she froze when she saw me from her spot in the doorway. Her mouth started moving, but luckily, the TV drowned out her voice.
“Can’t hear you!” I mouthed, pointing to my ears as I tipped back the bottle again, taking a long swig of the burning clear liquid.
“Name a dirty job that somebody has to do!” the game show host announced to a laughing live audience.
Dr. Taffy pursed her lips—which were smeared—and tried to do that thing where she raised her chin in order to appear like she was an adult with her shit together. Too bad her bra was missing, so I could see one of her nipples poking out from between her blouse where the buttons didn’t line up. I wasn’t sure what was more offending, her red, slightly chapped nipple or the fact that her tourist-style blouse had red buoys floating in ocean water.
Dr. Taffy turned on her heels, her usual pantyhose noticeably missing, and stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind her. My dad was the next to appear, and he took one look at the bottle in my hand and snatched it out of my grasp.
“Turn that shit down!” he yelled at me.
“Sorry, can’t!” I shouted back as I pointed at my temple. “I can still hear the sound of your skin smacking against her untrimmed hedges!”
“Next question: Name something a doctor might pull out of you!” the TV host asked. The family responded ridiculously fast to that question.
With a scowl, my dad swiped the remote control from me and shut the TV off. I missed the rest of their answers, dammit. No
w all I had to look forward to was some awkwardly awful sex talk with my father? No thanks.
“Rach—”
I held up my empty hands to ward him off. “Ah! Uh uh,” I said, shaking my head. Although, I wasn’t really sure those were even considered real words. I just wanted to make this whole thing stop.
“Belinda and I are adults,” he went on, ignoring my pleas. “And you were out with Beau. I didn’t think you’d be home. You should have knocked.”
“And you should have socked!” I retorted.
He rolled his eyes and took a swig of the vodka that he’d taken from me. “And don’t drink this shit. You’re too young.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please. You gave me my first beer when I was eleven.”
He shrugged. “You were either gonna try it with me, safely at home, or with some shit-stained brief-wearing pansy at school.” He had a point. “Now, next time you see her, I want you to apologize. Belinda has been very flexible with you.”
“Not as flexible as she was with you,” I shot back.
He gave me the look. The one that a parent gives his little shit-starting kid. I couldn’t help it though. I was scarred for life seeing my father’s pale ass pounding away like that. I shuddered visibly. Maybe I should text Dr. Thomas.
“What are you even doing home this early?” he asked, finally moving away from this conversation. “I thought you’d be gone longer.”
Instead of confessing about how I’d lied to Beau about not feeling well and asked him to bring me home, I changed the subject. “Why’d you bring in Godfrey Taylor?” I had been wanting to ask him for a while. I wanted to hear the answer from his own lips.
My words caught him so off guard that he couldn’t speak for several moments. He just kept opening and closing his mouth like a suffocating fish. “I saw how you were with him. I figured he could get you to talk. To get me the names and info you refuse to give me.”
“The names,” I said flatly.
“Yeah.”
“You mean the names I purposely told you I wasn’t ready to give you? Those names?”
