Chapter 42
Shit.
Kelly walks down the stairs and stands next to me, not taking her eye off the small sensor, as if it’s a bomb about to detonate.
I push the ladder up, shutting the attic hatch, then hit the switch on the wall, releasing the attic door.
My phone dings, and I show her the notification on my screen: Attic door open.
“I installed it. It tells me when you go into the attic.”
She blinks at me. Her gaze oscillates between the screen and me before gingerly taking it from my hands. “When did you do this?” she whispers, staring at the notification.
“A couple years ago.” I peel the phone from her grasp, lock the screen, and tuck it back into my pocket.
She shakes off the shock. “Did you say years?”
I exhale. “Yes.”
“Why?” she bites out. Here comes the anger.
“I wanted to know when you were going through his things. After he died, you didn’t want anything to do with his belongings.
However, once you were ready, you would lose yourself in this attic for hours, sometimes days.
You weren’t picking up your phone or responding to texts.
Every Tuesday, you walked into work looking exhausted, like you had barely slept during your days off.
What was I supposed to do? Just sit back while you buried yourself alive in his memories and things?
I wanted to know when you needed help without being intrusive. ”
She barks out a fake laugh. “So you thought the answer to that was spying on me. Are you fucking kidding me?”
“My intentions were pure.” Ish.
She walks away from me into her living room and sits on the edge of the sofa with her hands placed neatly in her lap. Her eyes are fixed on the floor. She’s quiet, closed off. Something’s wrong.
“I think it’s time we contact the police,” she says.
I kneel in front of her and take her hands in mine. “I’m close to figuring it out.”
“You keep saying that.” Her words sting. “You said you would take care of it. It’s not just messages anymore, Logan—it’s photos! I’m becoming paranoid. He’s still out there.”
I swallow. She’s right. My head hangs between my shoulders before I blow out a breath and get to my feet, then pace back and forth in her living room.
“We still don’t know who it is—”
Stopping midstride, I spin to face her. “It’s Billy.”
She presses her head into her palm and massages her forehead like I’m feeding her riddles. “Billy who?”
I stuff my hands into my pockets. “Billy Akers.”
Her head snaps up, and she narrows her gaze at me. Kelly is all business when she says, “Start talking.”
“The day Jason showed up at the shop, I was already in a bad mood because I had received a letter from Billy.”
“So what? He retired years ago, I don’t understand what he’s got to do with any of this, he was a friend of my dad’s.”
“No, he wasn’t,” I argue, halting my steps and pointing at her. “No, he fucking wasn’t.”
Shit, this conversation is going to end up in the goddamn weeds. Here we go. She sits back on the sofa and crosses her arms, waiting for me to continue.
“You were supposed to get the shop when your dad died.”
“Me?” She points to herself with wide eyes, blinking a few times. “I wasn’t ready to run a shop. I didn’t even have my license then.”
I nod. “Didn’t matter. It was still yours.
That’s what your dad wanted. Toward the end, I tried talking to Billy to make sure we had plans in place to keep Black Rabbit running.
He was too quiet, something felt off, so I started digging.
Billy had been embezzling money from the shop, slowly bleeding it without anyone catching on.
So, while the rest of us were wrapped up with your dad’s palliative care at the end of his life, Billy was cutting deals and lining his pockets. ”
“He embezzled money?” She winces; the look of betrayal on her face is obvious.
“Yeah, but that was the least of our worries.” I wave my hand.
“He tried to sell Black Rabbit. I’m not talking about the building or the chairs, I’m talking about the name.
To some company out in L.A. They had plans to turn this place into a fucking reality show, come out with our own line of shitty ink, branded merchandise, it was a huge money grab.
Not at all in the spirit of what this place was founded on. ”
She leans forward, burying her head in her hands. “I can’t believe this.”
“I knew your dad wasn’t a sellout. In fact, your dad already had the paperwork filled out.
He trusted Billy to file it, but he never did.
He sat on it. Used the window between Clyde’s trust and the legal handoff to try to sell everything your dad built right before he died. He was not your dad’s friend.”
“Okay, but we didn’t sell.” She drops her hands and sits up straight. “So what the fuck happened?”
I shrug. “I did what I had to do. I made him a better offer. I bribed him in order to kill the deal. Billy never retired, he ran.”
“You paid the man who betrayed us?”
“To protect Black Rabbit and everything your dad built? Yeah, I paid him.”
“How much?” she asks. “That’s not important.”
“How much, Logan?”
“I had a trust fund.”
“Had?” she asks. “Why didn’t you just go to the lawyers? Why didn’t you sue?”
I scrub a hand over my face. “There wasn’t time.
That deal had to go through before your dad died.
I didn’t have any paperwork to prove that it was supposed to go to you, all I knew was what your dad told me, and I believed him.
I figured a company in L.A. probably had lawyers that would drain us while we tried to fight for it back.
I just . . . I panicked. I was too busy trying to keep things afloat here while he was sick, all that baggage with Piper was still fresh, Clyde was dying.
I just did the only thing I could think of. ”
“But you never put it in my name.”
“Not at first.” I rock on my heels. “I needed to make sure everything was stable and the shop wasn’t at risk of going under before I put something like that on you.
Besides, you were barely twenty-two, dealing with the death of your father, and spent most of your time in the attic.
You had enough on your plate. I had thrown most of my trust into the place—it was an investment.
I needed to make sure I wasn’t saddling you with a failing business and losing everything I owned in the process. ”
She stares at me wide-eyed. “Oh my God.”
“The story became that he left it to me and I would eventually transfer ownership when you were ready and Black Rabbit was in a good place financially. I didn’t want you to know that your dad had been betrayed like that.
I didn’t want you to know about any of this.
You were drowning in grief; the stress of something like this would have wrecked you. ”
She’s silent while her brain processes the information, and then she furrows her brow and shakes her head. “But wait, back up, what makes you think my stalker is Billy? You think he’s behind everything?”
I shrug. “I think he spent all that money and needs more. Maybe he’s still mad I bought it from him; he’d be making more off royalties if I’d let them milk Black Rabbit like a cash cow.
I don’t think he’s mad at you, I think he wants to hit me where it hurts, and he knows that’s by going after you.
I think that’s why he sent that letter to the shop and not to your house directly. That was a message for me, not you.”
“What did the letter say?”
I roll my eyes. “He made it seem like he was just saying ‘How ya doin’, Junior?’ Asking about what it was like being the boss, replacing your dad.”
“He said replace?” I nod.
“He thinks one of us replaced him?”
“That’s what I think is happening. Remember where he always wanted to retire?”
She slaps a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God. Out west.”
Exactly.
“But the photos?” she asks. “Would Billy seriously do that?”
“Blackmail,” I say.
“Why wouldn’t he have just asked for the money when he sent the photos?”
I shake my head. “He’s letting us know he’s got them. The more famous you become, the more they’re worth. You’re climbing the fame charts. Look at the way your Instagram has blown up over the last year.”
“Fuck.” She runs a hand over her hair, pulling more strands from the messy updo and tucking them behind her ears. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner, Logan?”
There’s not a great reason why, other than trying to spare her from a massive headache and trust issues—which, in an ironic turn of events, is exactly what I’ve done. “I wanted to protect you. I didn’t want you to think that I was trying to steal Black Rabbit or your inheritance.”
She pushes off the couch and stands with her hands on her hips. “That’s a stupid reason. That’s such a stupid fucking reason. If I’m the owner of Black Rabbit, then I deserve to know what happened to it . . .”
Fair point. I keep my mouth shut, because for now, she only gets Black Rabbit if something happens to me. I haven’t transferred it to her yet.
“So, what else don’t I know?” she asks, closing the distance between us with clenched fists.
Shit.
She searches my eyes, as if all my secrets are buried right behind them. She’s good at reading people when she knows there’s something they want to hide, and right now, I’m doing everything I can to hold her stare because if I look away for even a second, she’ll know.
Option one: Drop the big bomb right out of the gate and hope the blast radius takes me out before she does. After that, everything else will seem like mere bottle rockets in comparison.
Or option two: Feed her the small bullshit first, then slowly build up to the dramatic grand finale that explodes into a fiery chaos that can only be rivaled by her untamed fury and ability to throw things at me.
Do I want a quick merciful death? Or would it be fun to have a little edging first?