Chapter 33
Brady
David
You thought Diesel would stop me, you stupid motherfucker. Do I need to remind you to do better? Feels like I do.
Me
You’re fucking dead. Wait until I get my hands on you.
David
Diesel has about 100 pounds on you. What, are you going to kick my ass? Spank me? First, you’ll have to find me. I know you’ve been looking. Haven’t you? You’re just not good enough.
David
It’s really fucking sad that Lily chose to be with a moron like you.
Me
Fuck you.
David
Fuck me? You’re getting funnier by the day.
Me
I’m going to fucking kill you.
David
I think we know it’s the exact opposite. I’m going to kill you.
David
You have two choices: stay with her, which won’t end pretty, I promise, or give her back to me and all of this will stop.
Me
It’s not a choice.
David
Then, watch your back, Brady. I’m feeling … revengeful.
“Welcome home,” Dominick said as I stomped into his office, shut the door behind me, and collapsed in the chair across from his desk.
I’d been back in LA for less than three hours, and after dropping my shit off at home, this was the first place I came.
I didn’t know where else to go or who else to turn to.
My brothers couldn’t help with this situation.
Dom was my only shot.
David
Already leaving Lily all alone? You think keeping her in your house with a security system and a guard by the door is going to stop me?
Fucking idiot.
I shoved my phone into my pocket, dropped my elbows onto my knees, and dived my fingers into my hair. I was surprised there were any strands left by the way I’d been tearing at them lately. “I need advice.”
“About …”
I glanced up. All the rage, all the resentment, all the furor was coming to a head. “I don’t know what the hell to do about David.”
“The ex?”
“From hell,” I added.
He adjusted his cuff links before setting his hands down on his desk. “Before we get to him, how’s Diesel?”
I hissed out the air I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in and leaned back in the chair. “Two weeks …” I couldn’t stop the growl from coming through my lips. “Two fucking weeks he spent in that hospital. Can you believe that shit? A concussion, broken collarbone, four broken ribs. A ruptured spleen. A bruised lung.” I let my hands fall after using them to count each one of his injuries.
“David used a fucking crowbar on him, Dominick, and came at him from behind. It’s no wonder Diesel didn’t stand a chance.” My chest began to pound. “The footage … I could barely watch it. Makes me fucking sick to my stomach.”
“Damn, dude.” Dominick crossed his arms over his chest. “Doesn’t sound like David gives a fuck about anything, and he won’t stop until he gets what he wants.”
“That’s the thing. Once he got Diesel down on the ground, he didn’t stop. He probably wouldn’t have, but two of our guests came off the elevator, heading in his direction to get to their room, and David obviously didn’t want to be seen or caught, so he took off for the stairs.”
Dominick knew the basics. We’d spoken multiple times while I was in Scotland the past few weeks. What he didn’t know were the finer details, things I hadn’t wanted to discuss over the phone.
I crossed one leg over the other, my foot swinging in the air. “He set up a distraction to get the security team away from the feed. Same thing he had done in Charleston, which we thought was a coincidence at the time, and now, we know it wasn’t. This guy knows what he’s doing.”
“He’s a calculated motherfucker.”
I nodded. “No shit.” I wiped my hands over my jeans, the sweat pouring out of my body—I was so worked up. “We’d been to Edinburgh three times before our last visit, and David didn’t do anything. Diesel sat outside our room during every one of those trips. And then—boom—out of nowhere, he strikes.”
“Sounds like there’s no rhyme or reason for when he attacks. He just goes straight for it.”
My eyes shut as I exhaled. “Except for his texts. They come in daily. Threats, bullshit. He won’t stop.” When my hands were done rubbing my jeans, I gripped the armrests of the chair. “I’ve looked for him. I’ve had my assistant, who’s as good as a PI, try to find him. I even hired a PI to locate him. He’s untraceable.”
Dominick’s brows rose. “What would you do if you found him?”
I stayed silent, staring at my best friend.
“All right,” he voiced when he realized I was going to say the words he feared, “let me ask you this: what do you think it’ll take for him to stop?”
I clenched my fingers into a fist. “He wants me to give her up.”
“That’s not an option.”
I blew out some heavy wind from my chest. “No, it’s not a fucking option.”
“The police can’t take care of this, correct?”
“Correct.” I shook my head. “I’ve beefed up my security. Lily is never alone, no matter where she goes. I’m carrying a fucking gun on me at all times in case the asshole jumps me in public.” I lifted the bottom of my polo, showing him where the gun was tucked into my pants. “That’s why I’m coming to you. I don’t know what the hell to do at this point.”
He leaned onto his desk. “First off, you’re not going to have blood on your hands. I won’t let that happen. You have too much to lose—Lily, your freedom, your business.”
It wasn’t easy to wrap my head around any of this.
What it meant.
What I was willing to do.
How that blood would be on my hands for the rest of my fucking life.
But I saw no other way around it. If I couldn’t go to the police, who else was going to make sure the bastard didn’t hurt Lily?
“I don’t have any other option,” I admitted.
“But you do, my friend.” He glanced toward his office door before he moved his chair in closer. “You know my buddy Brett Young?”
It took a moment to move the anger aside and focus on something besides David and what I planned to do to him.
“The entertainment agent. Of course I know him.” I’d seen him at plenty of Dominick’s parties. We were acquaintances, but we’d never hung out personally.
“Yes, him. Now, stay with me because this is going to get a little convoluted.” He folded his hands together. “One of Brett’s partners is a woman named Scarlett Davis. Scarlett’s best friend is Pepper Michaels. Does Pepper’s name ring a bell?”
My teeth ground against each other. “What does this have to do with me?”
“Trust me, Brady.” He nodded toward me. “Have you heard of Pepper?”
“Fuck, you’re making me think.” My head dropped toward my legs as I silently repeated her name, waiting for it to hit me. When it did, I said, “She’s the owner of the sex club, isn’t she?”
I’d never been, but I knew several guys who had checked it out and spent some time there.
“Yes, that’s her.” He reached to the bottom of his desk, where I assumed was a keypad because I heard the beeps as he tapped the different buttons. When his hand returned, he was holding a small black card that he pushed across his desk toward me. On it was a phone number written in white ink. “Pepper’s boyfriend, Bale, is who you need to talk to. That’s his number.”
“Who the fuck is Bale?”
He slowly licked his lips. “The man who’s going to make this all go away.”
“And you keep his number locked in your desk?” I took several deep breaths.
His smirk was the kind of reply I was looking for. “You never know when you might need it. It came in handy today, didn’t it?” He tapped his desk, his eyes narrowing. “Do yourself a favor—don’t call him unless you’re absolutely ready.” He leaned in even closer to me. “Because once you talk to him, there’s no turning back.”
I held the card, flipping it to check the other side, but there was nothing else written on it. “You’re guaranteeing me that he’ll get rid of David? You’re positive about that?”
Dominick smiled. “I’ve never been surer about anything in my life.”
The way he spoke those words was haunting.
I could feel them inside my body.
I could still hear them in my head.
Dominick was my closest bud, and we were always honest with each other. Something told me that if I asked him who else he’d given this card to, he wouldn’t tell me, nor would he admit that he’d ever given it out before.
But what I knew was that he wouldn’t bullshit me.
I’d come to him for help.
And he’d just given me everything I needed.
“So, I just dial his number and …” My voice trailed off to let him fill in the blank.
“And follow his instructions when he answers—and he will, regardless of what time you call. You’ll pay a fee, he’ll give you a time frame, and you’ll be given proof that the job was done.”
I stared at his digits again. “It’s that easy.”
“No.”
His reply made me look at him again.
“Nothing about this is fucking easy,” he continued, “and you’ll think about it until the day you die. But it’s necessary—we both know that.”