Chapter 28

Beckett

Three weeks later

I opened the Audi’s car door, got out, and walked over to the beat-up Honda parked on the curb outside a brick-faced building in Brooklyn Heights. It was after dark, with the lampposts casting eerie light on the sidewalk and providing snapshots of cracks or stains or just plain concrete.

The man in the Honda was in silhouette, but the red coal of his cigarette flared in his rearview mirror upon my approach, and smoke swirled out of his open window.

I got into the car, passenger side, then shut the door behind me and inhaled the scent of stale tobacco, old tacos, and something else I didn’t care to identify.

“Big boss,” he said. “You growing a beard?”

I ran my hand over the stubble on my chin and let out a low, mirthless chuckle. “Not purposefully.” The past few weeks had been spent organizing my entire life. I’d set into motion the takeover of my business, I’d pined over a woman who’d once pined over me but now wouldn’t answer my calls. And I’d done this.

Waited.

Waited for Richie to finally call me and tell me he was ready.

“What have you got for me?” I asked. “I assume you wanted to meet in Brooklyn Heights for a reason?”

“They’re staying in this building,” he said. “Second floor, apartment 1B. They’ve been living here pretty much since they arrived in New York, big boss.”

I resisted the urge to charge up there right this second. That would come shortly, but first, I needed the details. “Why?”

“Here’s the thing. I had to track what happened to them back in Ohio before I could figure out where they were and what they were doing here.” He flicked his cigarette out the window then lifted a manila folder and handed it to me. “In there is all the information you need to nail the fuckers. Unless you changed your mind about having me take care of it personally for ya.”

“I haven’t.”

“Aw, shoot,” Richie said and ran a hand over his bald pate. He barely fit in the driver’s seat, and he already had it rolled all the way back. The man reminded me of a stockier version of that mountain dude from Game of Thrones.

I flipped open the folder and rifled through it as he talked.

“So, I found out these two pricks sold their house in Ohio before they turned up on ya girl’s doorstep. They packed up everything in their crappy car and came up here.”

“For the money,” I said.

“Yeah, for the money. They think they’ll be able to access it once they’ve got the kid. They were both laid off shortly before they came to New York.”

“Idiots.”

“There’s more,” Richie said. “So, apparently, the pair of them had her followed by this guy.” He reached over, flipped through the pages, and tapped on the photograph of some shady looking dude in a hoodie and sweats. “Jimmy the Knife. He’s name is scarier than he is. I raised a fist, and that pussy squealed like a stuck pig.”

“They had her tailed?” I had to ask to keep from telling Richie to go up there right now and do the things I’d promised I wouldn’t let him do. I would handle this like an adult, even if it meant chewing a hole through my tongue in order to hold it.

“Yeah, by this dick. Here’s the not so good part, big boss. This guy’s a fucking psycho. He was in jail with my younger brother Reggie, and man, the guy took a shank to another guy’s throat. He didn’t kill him, and he got out of prison maybe a couple months ago.”

“Fucking hell.”

“Yeah, so these assholes have no qualms connecting with pieces of shit and having them do their dirty work for them,” Richie continued. “He lives right next door to them, at the moment.”

“What else? Why did he tail Olivia?” I asked, fuming silently. Barely holding back.

“So, here’s what I found. Jimmy the Knife, he followed her, and he’s the one who went to this other dude, Clive Keebler. This guy’s a social media nut, and he wrote that article I stuck in there,” Richie said. “I think that the fuckingtons upstairs didn’t want Jimmy doing anything that’d wind them in trouble. That’s probably why he didn’t hurt her yet.”

I scanned the article. It was the one Kayla had sent me, dated the day before the photos of Bebe smearing herself across my face had hit Twitter.

That was the leak. That was how they’d known our engagement was fake. These two shits had had her tailed by a potentially homicidal maniac, all because they wanted money they’d never get their grubby mitts on anyway.

I had a choice.

I could let Olivia go through this lengthy court process and hand her or her attorney the information Richie had just handed me, or I could go up there now and end this.

I’d always been more of an act now, think later kind of guy.

“Thanks, Richie. You did good. You get my payment?”

“Hell yeah, big boss. You’re the man.”

I patted him on his meaty shoulder then opened the door and got out.

“You need my help up there?” Richie asked.

“No, I’m good,” I replied. “I’ll call you again sometime, Rich. Stay safe. And lay off the Taco Bell.”

“Never,” he said, with a chuckle and started up the car. He rattled off down the road, and I watched him until he was out of sight, then turned and took the front steps two at a time. I stripped off my jacket as I went—I’d chosen a suit for tonight—and wrapped it around my fist.

I reached the front door, took aim, and punched through the glass. One hot shot, and it shattered inward. I opened the door from the inside and charged up the stairs to the second floor, marched down the hall to 2B.

I halted in front of it, shook out my coat, and tucked it over one arm.

Breathe, mother fucker. You can’t hurt them. Only destroy them.

I kicked the door once, hard, by way of a knock. Inside, a woman yelped. Whispers followed, then heavy footsteps thumping toward the front. A click, and the man himself appeared.

George Abbott.

He was three different sizes squashed into one man. Pot belly, huge ears, and likely a micro-penis to top it off. He blinked at me, recognition dawned, and he tried to slam the door shut. I stuck my foot in the way and caught it.

“Now, now,” I said. “There’s no need for that. I’m just here to have a chat with you two. We can have a nice chat, now, can’t we?” My tone was even, but George paled regardless. Probably had everything to do with the death stare I directed his way.

“I don’t want any trouble.”

“No problem,” I said and muscled my way into their apartment. I slammed the door behind me, then drew the latch, smiling a like a wolf who’d sighted its prey. “Actually, I lied, there is a problem. A big problem.”

The bitch Nicki shifted off a ratty-looking sofa to my left and folded her arms across her chest. She wore a stained T-shirt and a pair of shabby shorts. “You can’t just barge in here. We could call the cops.”

“Yes, you could, and that would force me to call my cops,” I replied and smiled. “It’ll be fun. Especially when I tell them you had Olivia followed by a murderous psychopath and that you’re about to lie to the courts about your ability to look after a child.” I raised the manila folder in one hand and waved it at them. “Now, are you ready to talk?”

George and Nicki remained silent and milky white. And wrinkled and dumpy and old, and traitorous. I could ascribe so many crappy adjectives to these two, but the list had to end sometime or I’d never get to the point.

“I know everything,” I said. “And because I know everything, I’m going to tell you what happens next. Are you ready?”

They stared at me, heathens that they were, and waited.

“You’re going to pull out of this whole custody bullshit story, and you’re going to pack up your shit and get out of New York. And if you ever come back, guess what will happen?” I asked.

“What?” George asked, softly.

“You don’t want to know,” I said and laughed. “But it goes a little like this.” I strode right up to George, got all up in his face, breathed in and out of my nose and speared him with my gaze. “I will destroy everything you know. Everything you love. Everything you aspire to be. Which, granted, isn’t much since you’re a skeazebag who tried to steal a child away from her guardian.”

“We just wanted—”

I waved a hand to cut him off. “The money. Money you would never have gotten regardless. But you two dumb fucks didn’t get that.” I sighed and scratched my chin.

George took the opportunity to stumble back a few steps and create distance between us.

“I figured that this might not go down too well with you two con artists and that you might find a way to come back and cause a little trouble. So, I’ll grease the wheels,” I said. This was the worst part of the entire debacle, but I’d do it. Only for Olivia. “I’m going to pay you one hundred thousand dollars to disappear.”

“Penny’s trust fund was way more than that,” Nicki snipped and tucked her flat red hair behind one ear. “There was millions.”

“Jesus, you’re as thick as a brick.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, then pointed at her. “You were never going to get that money, woman. Neither of you two were. It will go straight to Penny when she turns eighteen. You’ll take the hundred grand or the next person who visits you will be three times my size and won’t talk. Understand?”

“Yes,” George said and held up a palm to stop his dumbass wife from interrupting. “Yes, we understand. Our bank details—”

“I already have them,” I said. “But there’s one last thing you have to do before I’ll pay you.” I pointed to Nicki specifically. “You’re going to call Olivia, and you’re going to apologize for everything you’ve done, and I mean everything. You’ll explain to her about having her tailed, about what you truly wanted, and you’ll beg for her forgiveness. You’ll mean it, too, or you won’t get a cent from me. Understand?”

Nicki stuck out her bottom lip. George cleared his throat and shot his wife daggers in a glare. “Yes,” she said. “I’ll do it.”

“Good,” I replied. “Don’t for a second think that I won’t do what I’ve promised if you don’t. You will regret meeting me for the rest of your life. Fuck it, you’ll regret your entire life.” I tucked the folder under my arm, slung my jacket over my shoulder, then walked for the door. I paused and looked back at them. “I’ll be watching,” I said. “I’ll be waiting. Don’t take too long.”

Anything for her. Everything for her.