“Yeah, not sure what you’re paying this one over here, but you should demand a refund,” I said, nodding in Dilton’s direction.
I saw the backhand coming and braced. Dilton’s knuckles connected with my cheekbone, snapping my head back. My face felt like it was on fire, but I refused to make a sound.
I focused instead on adding concealer to my mental shopping list and imagining what Nash was going to do to Dilton’s face soon.
“Time you learned some manners,” he snarled in my face, his eyes wild and his lip curled under the mustache. An unpredictable madman with something to prove was worse than a calculating bad guy any day.
“Does that make you feel like a big man?” I hissed through clenched teeth.
“Enough,” Hugo snapped. He peeled open a piece of candy and popped it into his mouth. “We have work to do. Nikos, make sure we’re ready for our friend Chief Morgan’s arrival.”
With an ominous nod, Nikos left the room.
I was down to two bad guys, but I still didn’t like those odds.
“You’re on cleanup,” Hugo said to Dilton.
“I fuckin’ know.”
“Get your shit together. Once you’re in position, call me, then wait for my signal. You don’t get to fuck this one up.”
“Least I had the balls to pull the trigger,” Dilton spat.
“You fucked up is what you did. You’re lucky you’re getting another chance.”
“You might have to pull your own trigger someday,” Dilton warned him.
“And when I do, I’ll make sure I finish the fucking job,” Hugo said ominously.
They glared at each other for a long beat before Dilton backed down. He flashed me one last lecherous look before storming out of the room.
“Fruit Gem?” Hugo offered, tilting the open bag my way.
“It was Dilton, wasn’t it?” I said quietly.
“What was?”
“You hired Dilton to shoot Nash.” The dashcam footage was grainy and the shooter was wearing a hoodie and gloves. But Tate Dilton and Duncan Hugo had similar builds, came in at similar heights.
Hugo shrugged. “Leaders delegate. And that’s what I plan on being.”
“Good help is hard to find,” I said, repeating his words.
“I stole the car, gave him the gun, and told him when and where to do it. He was supposed to lure your cop boyfriend farther out of town, do the deed somewhere quiet.”
“Instead he shot him in cold blood on the highway,” I filled in.
“Can’t be helped now. He’s got one shot at redemption, and if he doesn’t get this right, he’ll be done,” Hugo said, unwrapping another candy.
Nervous eater.
“You’re planning to use me to lure Nash here. And then what?”
He looked at me and said nothing. He didn’t have to.
I shook my head as a tidal wave of nausea hit me. “Naomi is getting married tomorrow and Waylay is a child. You don’t have to do this.”
He shrugged. “Look, it’s nothing personal. Well, Dilton’s hard-on for your boyfriend is very personal. Apparently he didn’t like your boy’s brand of law and order. I think he would have shot him for free. But everything else? That’s not personal. You’re all just collateral.”
Naomi, Waylay, Liza J, Amanda… Even if Hugo managed to lure Nash here, everyone else would be at that house. In the line of fire.
Panic was rising in my throat. “All this so you can what? Push your father out of the way and take over the family business? Why not start your own? Build something yourself?”
His fist slammed into the desk. “Because I’m going to take everything my father owes me and watch him rot behind bars while I enjoy it all. I want him to know that the ‘sensitive pussy son,’ the ‘waste of DNA,’ was the one who manned up and stole everything from him.”
My brain was scrambling for ways out of this. “You can’t trust Dilton. He’s hotheaded and thinks he’s the one who should be calling the shots. He tried to start shit with an entire bar full of women and Nikos had to stop him. You need to call him off.”
Hugo got up from behind the desk. “What I need is for you to sit down and shut up until it’s time to be useful.”
I was going to be sick. And then I was going to be dead.
“Why Nash? Why was his name on that list? He didn’t have anything to do with your father’s business.”
Hugo shrugged. “Maybe he pissed off the wrong person.”
“Meaning your father or the person who made the list?”
“Guess you’ll never know for sure.” He crossed to the worn couch in front of the TV and looped a gaming headset around his neck. “Might as well make yourself comfortable.”
The TV screen bathed the room in a nuclear green.
I leaned against the desk, my knees quaking, stomach churning.
It had to be now. I had to find a way to warn Nash before Dilton left. Before he got anywhere near Naomi and Waylay.
“Happy fuckin’ Friday. Let’s shoot the shit out of some cowboys,” Hugo said.
I blinked and stared hard at the screen. He was playing online…which meant he was talking to other players.
My heart was slamming against the walls of my chest. He was wearing the headset, but I still needed to be quiet. I had one shot to get this exactly right.
I blew out a breath slowly and watched the screen for my opening.
“On your left. No! Your left, dumbass. Didn’t you learn that in kindergarten?” Hugo said, dodging and weaving on the cushion with the controller.
The characters on screen were battling a snot-shooting ogre and a fire-breathing dragon. This was as good an opportunity as I was going to get. I couldn’t screw it up.
I raised my hands away from my back as high as they could go and hinged forward.
Adrenaline spiked and I brought my wrists down as hard and fast as I could. The plastic tie snapped, freeing my hands.
“Quit fucking around, Brecklin, and stab him in the fucking foot,” Hugo said as I charged him from behind.
FORTY-NINE
A SCORE TO SETTLE
Nash
Twenty-seven minutes.
That was how long it had been since a man had shoved Lina into the trunk of his car and driven off.
Grave was running the partial plate number Waylay had memorized.
Knox drove Waylay and Liza J home to Naomi.
And I was flying down Tate Dilton’s street as a light, misty rain began to fall. I swung the wheel and came to a screeching halt at the base of his concrete driveway. There was a shiny red bass boat parked on a brand-new trailer in front of the garage.
I didn’t bother closing my door, just barreled up to the front door of the white Cape Cod bathed in blue and red from my lights.
The door swung open before I made it past the hay bales and pumpkins on the front porch. Behind me, tires squealed on the street as another vehicle came to an abrupt stop.
Melissa Dilton, Tate’s pretty blond wife, stood in the doorway, one hand clutching the neck of her blue bathrobe.
She had tear-stained cheeks and a fat lip.
Fuck.
“Where is he, Missy?”
She shook her head, eyes welling with tears. “I don’t know, but I swear I’d tell you if I did.”
I wanted to push my way inside, to search the house from top to bottom, but I knew she wasn’t lying.