Shaking her head, she bit her lip, ignoring her brother’s nagging and refusing to regret what she’d done. When she had woodenly marched out of the hospital, she’d driven straight to the Whitfield house, threw most of her things into shopping bags, and ordered Damien to do the same. They didn’t own any suitcases. When a person never went on vacation, the extra expense was unnecessary.
“Why?” The confusion in his voice matched her own twisted thoughts.
“Because the danger is over. We got the shooter, and we’ll be safe here now.” She tried her best to keep it simple and filled with the truth. Only she had yet to tell him his good friend Tick had been involved.
Scrubbing at the stubborn stain, she used the easy, repetitive activity to keep her mind off Jake. So far, it had worked to hold back the tears. Her plan was to wait until bedtime and then she could press a pillow over her mouth and let go. Maybe then Damien wouldn’t hear her act like a fool.
“You’re acting strange.”
“How’s that?” She was, but she wanted her brother to say how and then she would correct it.
“First of all, you’ve rubbed that one spot so long, I think you made a hole in the laminate.”
She looked down. He was right. She’d ruined it. Trying to act like she didn’t care, she tossed the cloth into the sink.
“How about I order us some pizza?”
He pulled his head back as if she struck him. “At eleven o’clock at night, and after we had pizza last night? You never let me eat anything after nine and never pizza two nights in a row. That proves it. Something is wrong. Did you and Jake have a fight? Where’s Tick? He disappeared last night and usually he checks on me by now. At the least, he texts me goodnight.”
“Listen, Jake and I are having a few problems.” On seeing his worried look, she added, “We probably won’t divorce, but I think it will be best if we live apart.”
“Is he going to prison?”
“What? No. Nothing like that.” She gave him a hug. Poor kid thought when an adult dropped out of his life, it was because they’d been incarcerated. Thanks, Dad. “We just don’t see eye to eye. We may work things out or we might not. Whatever happens, you and I will be together until you go to college. Then who knows, I might follow you there and rent an apartment off campus.”
“Yeah, like that’s what I want. My big sister looking after me while I’m at college.” He shook his head. Squeezing her back for a second, letting her know he was teasing, he released her. “I’m going to bed. I’m tired, and you’re not making any sense.” He rubbed his eyes with his fists. The same way he did when he was five. He stretched his back, raising his arms above his head, touching the top of the doorway with the tips of his fingers—he so could not do that at five—and then walked down the hall toward the bedrooms. He’d grown so much.
She had to admit he was right. She wasn’t making sense.
Her mobile phone buzzed. She looked toward the kitchen table as the phone rattled precariously close to the edge. Probably Jake. She’d been ignoring his and everyone else’s calls and texts since she’d left the hospital in the early morning hours. She was probably acting immature, but she wanted a little time to think over everything.
She stretched out on the couch, refusing to go to her lonely bed. Already she missed Jake so much she ached. Having his attention and being able to caress his body whenever she wanted had become like a drug. The way he held her at night, his touch, voice, taste. Oh, God, she wanted him. But he didn’t truly see her as a partner or equal in any way, no matter how many times they talked about it. She was nothing but a soldier to him. Someone to follow his orders. For that matter, except for giving her some of the best orgasms of her life, he acted as if she didn’t have feelings.
After the shooting, it had been bad enough when he called her stupid and spoke so condescendingly to her in front of his men. Many people said things in the heat of the moment they regretted later. She’d been willing to forgive. But the final nail in the coffin had been the way he’d dismissed her at the hospital. She’d wanted to be with him, to support him when someone he cared about was hurt. She didn’t deserve to be treated like a stranger.
No way would be she beg. One thing her granddaddy taught her was that begging never solved anything. She had more pride than that. So screw him. Even the moment of thought she had of shooting his ass wouldn’t solve anything. They would be business partners and nothing else.
How would he have acted if she’d been the one in the hospital bed? Would he view it as an inconvenience?
Looking at the ceiling, she shook her head, covering her eyes before digging fingers into the tresses and pulling in frustration.
Best to stop thinking about it. No reason to borrow trouble. She had enough without trying. Time for her to move on and quit feeling sorry for herself. His mother was fine. The bullet had gone through her right side, not hitting any bone or major arteries. Of course, Jake was upset and not thinking straight. He hadn’t meant it the way it came out. As if he didn’t want her near him, not being family or a friend, she didn’t belong, or she was nothing to him.
Despite telling herself over and over again he’d been upset and not thinking straight, she couldn’t stop the darkness warping everything he said and how she felt. What did she know about having a close-knit family? Or being a wife? She had Damien and no one else.
She turned over and clutched the throw pillow to her mouth and cried.
Jake glared at the phone in his hand. Where the hell did she go?
From what one of the guards reported, she’d stayed for about an hour and then hustled out her brother with several plastic bags. The trackers he had inserted no longer worked. She obviously pulled her and Damien’s chips. As soon as they relayed what they knew—a hell a lot that was—he’d sprinted up the stairs. Several bare hangers and a couple of empty drawers told the story. She had run away again.
He hit her number on his phone again, waiting for an answer by her or her voicemail. As soon as he heard the recorded message he ended the call. Fuck.
Closing his eyes for a few seconds to regain his composure, he stared across the bare space at the man sitting in a chair. Through a secret doorway in the basement near the media room was an area with no windows and only concrete blocks painted white and a large drain in the middle. A couple of steel poles held up the house, breaking up the bareness, and between the posts sat Tick Richards, tied by his arms and legs to an ugly, green plastic chair.
Dan had worked on him for the last two hours until Jake arrived from the hospital. As a rule, Jake normally handled the softening up, beating the shit out of whoever sat in that chair, before the interrogation, but with his mother being involved, he wanted Tick to live long enough to give details.
Walking around to face the man he’d considered a loyal employee, Jake stopped a few feet away and stared. Blood, shiny and thick, soaked one thigh. His torn shirt revealed thin slashes across his hairy chest. The man’s right hand had three broken fingers. One eye and cheek bone were swollen and plum colored. Several large bruises dotted the top of his bald head. Tears streamed down his face.
Later, the sight would bother Jake and sadden him, but for now he needed to remain strong and find out who all were involved.
“Tick, you’ve been part of my family for most of my life. You’ve eaten my food, drank my liquor, and slept under my roof. I don’t understand why you’d betray us like this. For that matter, what in the hell has my mom done to you but treat you with kindness?”
“I know, I know,” Tick sobbed out each word. “I didn’t mean to shoot her.”
“Then who in hell were you aiming at?”
“You.”
Jake tried to hold back his surprise, but he knew his eyebrows had shot up. He really hadn’t expected that.
“Why? What are you hoping to gain?”
“Why? Why?” Tick’s hysteria increased with each word. “You and your brothers are no different from your dad.” Spittle gathered at th
e corners of his mouth. “You use people. Treat them like shit. You all deserve to die. Just because your dad helped me get rid of that girl, he thought he owned me. Could talk and treat me any way he wanted.”
“That girl was the Sand County Sheriff’s daughter, you ass-wipe. If they had a clue you or anyone connected with the Whitfields had been involved, we all would’ve gone down. Bad.” He inhaled deeply, trying to calm the anger growing by the second. To think he’d believed Tick loyal and his father couldn’t be trusted. The jury was still out on Judd. “Did you really think you could get away with it? That we wouldn’t catch up with you?”
Tick’s crazed laughter echoed in the room.
After a minute went by without Tick letting up, Jake nodded to Dan. The man lifted a hammer and brought it down on an already broken finger.
The scream nearly pierced Jake’s ears. The room was sound proof, but didn’t muffle the sound inside.
As Tick didn’t have hair to hold his head up, Jake grabbed his ears. The big man closed his eyes.
“Listen to me, your dad begged for me not to kill you. You and I know there isn’t any hope of you living another day. But I can make it quick and give your ashes to your dad.” Jake knew Tick understood he meant no pain in the method of ending his life. “Did you have anything to do with killing the old men?”
At first, he thought Tick wasn’t about to answer. Then the man opened his good eye. Such hatred stared back.
“It was Matt and I. We’d been practicing for years. He took out Mac and I shot the old bastard. It felt real good. You should’ve seen your old man’s face. I wish I had a picture. He couldn’t believe I had killed him.”
The hostility flowed from every pore in the man.
“Did your dad know?” Jake had to be sure the betrayal didn’t go too far.
“He’s too much of a coward. He thought asshole was his friend. I tried telling him Dick treated him like dirt.”
“Did you play a part in the shooting at the funeral?” He needed to know how much Tick and Matt had done.
“I’m not that stupid. Matt arranged it without talking to me. An old buddy of his. He also was the one who tried to take you out at your wedding. He deserved to be killed for being such a lousy shot.”
The old buddy had been the guy in the tree Angel had killed.
“Why did you kill Matt?” Something deep inside said Tick had done it.
“He got scared after the wedding and wanted to tell you the truth.” Tick’s forehead wrinkled and his eyes closed for a moment, either from the pain of the wounds or from the memory of his friend’s death. “For some idiotic reason he thought you’d be happy we’d taken out the old men. That you’d reward us. I had to stop him. He’d always been an imbecile.”
Jake let him go and stepped away.
“Did the old man’s cousins have anything to do with any of this?” He had to know if it truly stopped with Tick. He’d believed Tick about Judd.
“I want to tell you so bad that they did. They’re as big assholes as Dick Whitfield. And just thinking of you spilling blood all through Marystown makes me happy. But I can’t. They didn’t, but I will say you need to keep an eye out. They’ve been telling people they are taking over. They have help from someone, but I don’t know who. They’re saying you’re bringing in the Atlanta mob, and if not stopped, you’ll throw the whole town to the wolves.”
No surprise there. Jake had suspected they were behind the rumors Ethan had heard.
“Tick, I still don’t get it. I can almost understand taking out the old men. There has been many times I contemplated it. But why me and my brothers? Hell, what about Damien? Was that Matt?”
“Damien. The kid had left his key and decided to break a window to get inside. He’d gotten me to lie about it. Sometimes he surprised me with his deviousness, and that’s because he’s a good kid.” The last few words came out sluggishly. His loss of blood was finally catching up with him. A steady stream had trickled down his leg and pooled around one foot. Others dripped beneath his chair.
“What about the shooter at the cabin?” They had thrown the body into the swamp, but so far all they knew was he’d been from Tennessee, not Georgia. And that had been from the license plate on the car they had found near the cabin. It had been registered to a nonexistent business.
“Have no idea. You do have a lot of people wanting you dead.” The macabre grin warned Tick liked the thought.
Jake began to pace. That tied up most of the mysteries, but could he trust what Tick said? Was he telling the truth? Was it all a big setup and Tick was willing to die for it? Fuck. He didn’t know what to think. The part about the cousins not being involved in any of the deaths or shootings, did hold a ring of truth to it. So far, he hadn’t mentioned a certain ex-FBI special agent.
“Boss.”
Jake looked at Dan standing over Tick.
“Yeah?”
“He’s dead. When he sagged in the chair, I checked his pulse. No heartbeat.” Dan pressed two fingers to the side of Tick’s neck.
A combination of the gunshot, loss of blood, and work over were too much for his heart.
“You know what to do with the body. Be sure to pick out a nice urn for Judd.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he ached all over. It had been a long day. Tomorrow, he would find out where Angel had landed. Then he’d figure out how he could get the news to his brothers. They would want to know their old man had been revenged, and they could come home.
Only, he wasn’t sure how Angel would take the news. She’d wanted her pound of flesh, and by not letting her talk with Tick, he’d kept her from having closure. On top of that, he still had to apologize for all of the things he’d said the night of the shooting,
Shit. He had really fucked up.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Jake eased the car to a stop in front of the mobile home. No cars out front, but the detached garage stood in the back. Lights shone through the thin curtains. What the hell was she thinking? How many times had they talked about how dangerous back lighting could be in their business? She needed thicker curtains. Otherwise people would track her movements through the place and shoot. For that matter, the same with the prefab thin walls. She needed to be in the Whitfield’s brick house.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. Shifting in his seat, he pulled it out and read the text message.
Are you coming inside or staying outside like a coward?
Damien. The teenager had guts.
He looked up and caught a curtain flutter. The teenager was right. With a deep breath, Jake exited the car and strolled up to the front door. Raising his hand to knock, the door opened.
Instead of Angel, Damien pushed his way out, partially closing the door behind him.
“Man, I don’t know what you did, but you got to fix it. She won’t listen to me. I want to go back. After living in a real house, I can’t take this piddling ass place. She can hear everything! You know? Ev-ery-th-ing. A dude can’t have any privacy. You know?” The teenager widened his eyes as his head bobbed up and down, emphasizing his distress. “And food. I really miss Jimmie Sue’s cooking. Have you eaten anything my sister has cooked? No? I swear you don’t want to.”
Locking his jaw to hold back the laughter, Jake, unable to look Damien in the eye for fear of letting go, carefully looked over the teenager’s head into the living room as he pushed the door back open.
“Where’s your sister?”
“That away.” He nodded to the right. "She’s in the kitchen. I have no idea what type of concoction she’s mixing up. She swears she follows the recipes in the cookbook, but I don’t know, man. You got to stop her. Please take her back. Whatever the hell she’s done, she didn’t know better.”
“So now, it’s something she did?” Jake shook his head. The teenager was a riot. Actually, a good kid. A lot of it had to do with having a sister like Angel.
“You’re killing me. You two are nuts for each other. Nuts being the key word here. I know none of us a
re right in the head. So yeah, you need to forgive each other, and let’s get back to the big house. I’ve promised a couple of my friends we could play the newest For Honor. Tick said he’d show us a few Easter eggs he’d found in the game.”
Jake ignored the last sentence, though his throat closed up for a second. Hell, he hadn’t thought of how Tick’s death would affect Damien. Later. He would deal with telling Damien after settling things with Angel.
Slipping around the teenager, Jake walked into the living room. He’d never been in her home. Big red athletic shoes were strewn at the end of the couch. Definitely Damien’s. Keys and a purse on the coffee table with a newspaper opened over a chair’s arm. Messy, but the way a real home should be, nothing like his big empty one. That was, except when Angel lived with him. It had felt like home then.
He looked to the left. A small hallway led to what he guessed were bedrooms. What did Angel’s look like? Frilly, showing her girly side. Or simple and plain, revealing her no-nonsense attitude. That question could be answered later.
Forcing his attention back to finding the kitchen, he moved around a table and chairs on the right and through a swinging door. Her back to him, she stirred something on the stove. She wore her black hair twisted into a knot on top with red tips pointing everywhere. The dish cloth hanging over a shoulder wrapped up the look of Susie Homemaker. She wore a green top and faded blue jeans, nothing of her usual black. The soft cotton hugged her womanly hips and cupped the full ass he loved.
He stood and stared, unsure what to say to her.
When he’d seen the blood spilling from his mom, he’d gone a little crazy. Cursing and hollering at everyone around him. He tried over and over again to shut his mouth, but the blood coming from his mom’s body blinded him to the destruction he left behind. Lydia had never harmed a soul. Though she hadn’t been the most normal and protective mom—he’d done more of the protecting even as a kid—she’d shown him the importance of being tender with the gentler sex. She’d taught him women were not the evil, deceitful creatures his old man had ranted and roared about.
Jake: A Southern Crime Family Novel Page 23
