by Coralee June
“That’s right. She died doing some kinky shit, didn’t she? When the guys and I had to dispose of the body, she had the same pretentious brand of belt you’re wearing wrapped around her neck.”
Judge Palmisano could have stood up and slammed his palm on the desk and screamed for security, but he didn’t. His face just grew redder until he looked like a cherry tomato on a summer’s day.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I nearly snorted. “Oh, that’s a shame. Good thing I brought photographs.”
I reached in my coat pocket and pulled out the photos I’d been smart enough to save the night we got the call to clean his crime scene up. I still remembered that night. Dad called and gave us a hotel room and said, “Fix it.” That was it. No warning. No heads up that we were walking into a fucking murder scene. It was the first time we realized that we weren’t just shredding papers and deleting online bank trails or roughing some people up to convince them not to take the witness stand. Luis had to fucking google the best way to dispose of a body that night, and we ended up driving her to a swamp in Louisiana, pretending to take a weekend trip to New Orleans. We drank ourselves silly to forget what we’d had to do, and the jobs got progressively worse after that.
Judge Palmisano’s pudgy fingers grabbed the Polaroids, and he squinted in disgust as he flipped through them. The last photo was a wrapped up body being thrown into a swamp. She was alligator food within hours. She’d deserved better than that.
“It took me awhile to connect the dots. But you were sloppy when you hired my father. Saw a large sum of money from you transferred to my father’s account three days after the job was done. You think no one would know? You think you’d get away with killing a woman, Judge Palmisano?”
In a last ditch effort to save his ass, he started frantically ripping up the photos, tearing apart the paper like it was poison that would infect him any second. His fingers were clumsy as he tore, and I saw him slice open the pad of his thumb. It was only fair that his blood would spill too, considering what he’d done to that girl.
“I’ve got copies, Judge. Lots of copies. In lots of places.”
He turned even more frantic as I spoke, and I knew I was playing a dangerous game. I had half a mind to out the fucker, but if I wanted to ruin my father, sacrifices had to be made. I genuinely thought that Palmisano had just gotten too kinky. He hadn’t intentionally killed the broad. If it had been my father instead, I wasn’t sure I could say the same thing.
“What do you want, Godfrey? I already paid your father for this,” he said quietly, his eyes darting behind him to make sure his office door was still shut. It was fun, watching his shoulders slump. He was nothing like his daughter. His confidence came from a stolen position in the district. Stephanie was a pain in the ass, but her confidence was instinctual. It made me wonder where she got it from.
“My father is why I’m here. I want him gone.”
He gaped at me. “Are you out of your mind? He’s untouchable. We can’t arrest him. He has more dirt on me than I’m willing to risk,” Judge Palmisano said.
“I have dirt on you, too,” I replied with a shrug. I knew this would be a problem, but I pretended to be unaffected. “All I’m asking for is dirt to get him arrested. As you know, people die in jail all the time. My father has known connections with gangs across the country. But you know what all gangs have? Enemies,” I said, looking him steadily in the eye. “All it takes is one guard looking the other way. If he’s killed before he has a chance to talk, you’re golden.”
It was a fucked up plan, and there were dozens of things that could go wrong, but I was playing for high stakes. I knew that Judge Palmisano was more than able to pull this off. He seemed like just the type to have men in his pocket with those particular skills.
He sunk back in his seat, his pressed pants straining against his meaty thighs like one wrong move would have them splitting. He was considering my offer. This arrangement helped the both of us, and he knew it. He’d like to die a free man, taking his dirty secret to the grave with him.
“It would have to be a damn good reason for his arrest. Something that lands him in lock up without bail. We’d have to work the system to push back his hearing. Maybe have him arrested when I’m out of town or over the weekend. I’d have to pay off the cops to hold off his interrogation.”
I grinned. “See? I knew you were the man for the job. I’m my father’s son, you know. He might not have used your secrets against you yet, but believe me, he’s sitting on what you did. You should be happy it was me that came to you first. One wrong move, and he’ll have your face plastered on the news and behind bars. You know it’s true, or you wouldn’t even be considering my offer in the first place. You know he’d do it in a heartbeat if it helped get him what he wanted. We should help each other, Judge.”
He eyed me warily. “I know he’s a ruthless fucker, but he’s your father. Why do you want him dead?”
My face turned stony, and I sat up straight. “That’s none of your business. You know what kind of man he is, so use your imagination.”
Palmisano swallowed and took in the bruising on my face once more. Most people in this town knew that my father liked to slap us around. They just pretended that it wasn’t happening because he had a good name and because of his dirty gang connections backing him. I could tell that it bothered him, which was amusing. He didn’t really give two shits about the mistress he killed, but he cared about a privileged Savannah Heir like me getting the shit beat out of him. Typical.
“Fine. You find me some concrete evidence, and I’ll sign the warrant. I’ll arrange it.”
I grinned before standing, and he stood too, although it took a little more effort. I extended my hand for a shake, and when our palms connected, I gripped him hard so he couldn’t pull away, and then reared back my free hand and landed a hard punch to his gut. He folded in on himself and coughed in shock and pain. Spit gathered on his lip as he groaned, and I dropped his hand with disgust.
“That was for Amber Moreno, you sorry fuck.”
Her name had been haunting me for months. Judge Palmisano made sure her missing person’s report never made the news. She was just another faceless victim of a powerful man. But I’d remembered her name, and I’d make sure he did, too. I didn’t make it a habit to feel guilty about the things the Heirs and I had to do to survive, but retribution was sweet. Walking around the desk to stand in front of him, I kicked him in the balls, and he collapsed on the floor and started to cry like a little bitch. Godfrey Taylor was back, y’all.
“That’s to remind you to grow a new pair. I won’t be letting you out of this arrangement, so just remember that,” I told him, my voice low and threatening. I straightened my shirt and gave him a pleasant smile. “You have a good day now, Judge. You’ll be hearing from me real soon.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Rachel
Paint splatters covered my arms and legs as I slathered the navy blue color over my pink walls. I’d spent the last two weeks changing little nuances about myself, finding hints of my old life and changing them to fit the new me. Every time I looked at the pastel color on my bedroom walls, it felt too innocent for me, too pure. Which was why I’d sent one of my father’s men to the hardware store for a couple gallons of my new favorite color.
Black would have been too cliche, so instead, I went with a deep blue, dark enough to match the stormy feelings inside but still showing a hint of optimism. I was certain that Dr. Taffy would have a few opinions about it. I finally convinced Dad that I didn’t need the weekly visits so long as I still called her on occasion, but she was still hanging around and showing up unannounced at the house. Her challenges were good for me, I’d admit that, but the final step to my healing required talking about the shit that had happened to me, and I wasn’t comfortable telling her all the dirty, twisted shit that blared inside my mind. Dad had pretended to act surprised when she showed up for dinner last night, but I knew he w
as trying to get me to talk to someone. I definitely didn’t need her drawing conclusions and spouting metaphors about the color of my room over garlic bread and spaghetti.
Dad had already thrown a fit after what I’d started calling the incident. The day Godfrey Taylor dumped my ass and made me question all of my motives and actions. I’d gone to the mall and let Forty-One convince me to get my nose pierced and an entirely new, edgy wardrobe to compliment my choppy hair. It wasn’t necessarily the new clothes that caught my dad off guard. It was the tattoo I’d gotten on my forearm that made his eyes bug out. Since I’d become obsessed with not being a walking, talking cliche, I didn’t get some bullshit reminder of everything that had happened or some simple quote that was supposed to remind me to stay strong. No, I got a crown in a cage of thorns, because I refused to be a pawn. I was the queen of my own painful barbed life, and I owned it.
Maybe I’d also gotten it because it reminded me Godfrey, the elusive asshole Heir that broke my heart. That might’ve been part of it, but it was also a secret reminder to keep the darker parts of myself tamed. I needed to lock my heart up and throw away the key. I missed out on the chance at happily ever after the moment Johnny Jack kidnapped me, so I had to find happiness in different ways now.
My thoughts scattered as I heard my dad walking up behind me. “Looks...nice,” he said from the doorway, arms crossed with a confused expression on his face. I looked over my shoulder at him, and I could see I had a smudge of the blue paint stained on my nose. “You sure you don’t want some help? I can call up Beau.”
I shook my head and resumed my task, dipping the brush into the paint can. “I want to do this myself.”
I used to let my dad do everything for me. When you printed your own money, you could easily hire people to do things for you, and that’s what my dad usually did. Since JJ though, I’d needed to do things myself, but that was becoming increasingly difficult with my dad. I wasn’t sure what happened, but the moment Godfrey stopped seeing me, Dad got crazy protective. I couldn’t go anywhere without a team following me, and my allowances to leave the house were few and far between.
“The school counselor called again. Said you refused to talk to her on Friday.” My old high school had been very accommodating about letting me finish out my senior year online, but Dad was determined to get me to talk to someone, which meant the school counselor was calling, emailing, and threatening me with a failing grade to get me to come in to a meeting.
I lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “The counselor at Orchard Field High isn’t going to help me anymore than Dr. Chewy.”
“Taffy. Her name is Dr. Taffy.”
“You sure about the doctor part?” I asked dryly.
“Rach…”
“Dad,” I said, cutting him off as I dipped the paintbrush again. “I’m dealing with it, okay? But I need to do it my way.”
“And this is your way?” he countered. “Piercings and tattoos and haircuts? And now painting your room black?”
“The color is called Sapphire Intrigue, and yes.”
He blew out a frustrated breath. “Baby, you need to talk to someone.”
Sighing, I set the paintbrush down and faced him fully. I pulled the phone out of my shorts pocket, opened an app, and handed it over. My dad looked down at it in his hand with a frown. “What’s this?”
“There’s a therapist on that app that I text sometimes. I can call her too if I feel like it. It’s all legit, she’s certified and everything, and the company is reputable.”
He looked away from me to study the phone again, and I saw him swipe a few times, no doubt checking everything out. After a minute, he handed the phone back over. “This helps?”
I nodded and slipped the phone back into my pocket. “Yeah. Face-to-face and even phone calls...I’m not there yet, but texting, I can do. I’ve found it easier to get out everything that happened to me, and Dr. Thomas is nice.”
I saw the relief in his eyes, even if he was a little leery. “Okay. Well, that’s good then. Come down and eat something. You’ve been at this all day.”
“I will soon. I’m almost done,” I promised him.
He turned and walked out, leaving me alone again, and I sat on my tarp-covered bed, looking around the dark walls. I hadn’t lied to my dad. I really was handling my shit, as Godfrey Taylor called it. And even though I felt that I was making progress with Dr. Thomas, I was still twisted up inside. It was still a struggle some days to hold the noise inside my head at bay. I had a long way to go, and I was trying to focus on me, but I couldn’t help but miss Godfrey every damn day. I tried not to think about him, I really did. It’s not like he was any good for me, we both knew that. Yet despite that fact, I missed him anyway.
It sounded cliche, but Godfrey made me feel present. He didn’t let me wallow in the past or worry about the future. When we were together, the energy between us crackled with an intense now. It was like life demanded to be felt and experienced in that moment. Without that, without him, I didn’t have that. My days were tedious instead of exciting, and I struggled not to fade into my own head.
My phone pinged, and I reached for it, dreading another call from the counselor at Orchard Field High, but was surprised to see that it was from Forty-One instead. He’d been silent the last couple of days, promising me that he was searching for a lead on Pick.
Forty-One: Some of JJ’s men were seen at Savannah Springs Bar. Don’t go alone. I’m compromised. Going dark for a couple days.
Fuck. There was no way Dad would let me go out to a bar, at least not without asking me some questions first.
My mind reeling, I threw myself into painting the rest of my room. By the time that was done and I’d removed all the tape from the baseboards, cleaned up the brushes, and got my room back to normal, another hour had passed. When I was done, I took a quick shower to get clean, still not used to how much easier it is to wash and dry my short hair. I got dressed in some black shorts and a loose tee, and then headed downstairs. My dad was watching sports, but when he saw me, he patted the space on the couch beside him, and I noticed the two plates with sandwiches and chips on the coffee table. The fact that he waited to eat with me made me smile. He seemed like he was in a good mood. Maybe I could ask him now.
I sat down next to him, and we ate in silence, on edge as I wondered how I could ask to go out. I was just finishing up the last of the chips while watching the Hawks play when we heard a knock on the door. My dad got up to answer it, and he strolled back inside with Beau in tow.
Seeing me, Beau’s eyes lit up. “Just the girl I wanted to see.”
“Hey, Beau,” I said, licking the last of the salt off my fingers.
“I came to invite you out.”
My stomach tilted warily, but then hope fluttered within me. I hadn’t been out since the party at Rogue’s house, but Beau could be my ticket to the Savannah Springs Bar. However, I knew I couldn’t look too eager or Dad would know something was up. “I don’t know…”
“Come on, Rach,” Beau smiled, nudging me as he sat on the arm of the couch. “It’ll be low-key. We’ll go down to River Street. Grab something to eat and walk around. It’ll be good to get out of the house.”
I glanced over at my dad. “You put him up to this?”
My dad put his hands up in surrender. “You’ve been saying you wanted to get out of the house. You can go with Beau, and a couple guys will watch from the car.”
I strategically looked down at my lap. There was something else making me pause. I wasn’t sure I felt comfortable going out without...Godfrey. There was something about him that had made me feel safe and protected. It did sound nice to go out, but I knew things between Beau and me were complicated. Still, I had to do this. I had to follow the lead Forty-One provided me with if I had any hope of finding out who Pick was.
Beau must’ve sensed my wariness, because he reached down and took my hand, squeezing it with encouragement. “It’ll be fun, and we can leave whenever you want to, okay?”
/>
Looking between him and my father, I nodded. “Okay.”
Beau clapped his hands. “Perfect. I got an extra helmet.”
My father grunted. “Not a chance in hell is my baby girl getting on the back of your motorcycle. You’ll take my car.”
Beau and I shared a smile since my father hadn’t known about my little trip to Godfrey’s school. “Yes, sir.”
“I’ll go change into jeans,” I said, heading upstairs. “Oh...and can we try a new restaurant? Dr. Taffy mentioned a bar that had live bands. I think it would be nice to go listen to music again.” I used to be really into indie music, and I knew Dad would preen at the idea of me tapping into my old self again, especially if it was something Dr. Taffy suggested.
“Of course,” Beau answered automatically.
“Sure, go get ready,” Dad began. “Beau, I wanna chat about some new security protocols we’ve started.”
I nodded and disappeared into my room, uninterested in listening to my dad drone on about how to protect me. Anxiety swirled around in my chest like poison, filling my lungs up with fear. I could do this. I had to do this.
I was taking this lead and following through with my plan. No more hiding in the noise. I was going to dig Pick up so Forty-One could bury the bastard.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Rachel
I was on high alert the moment we walked into Savannah Springs Bar. It wasn’t too crowded and didn’t have that overwhelming feeling of a club that most places did. There weren’t as many people here, but it still felt like someone was standing on my chest. Regardless, I found myself gripping Beau’s arm in preparation of seeing Pick. The fact that he could be lurking anywhere in the crowd had my panic rising, but I pushed it back down. I could fucking do this.