Page 105 of Tainted Love

“I thought about it. There’s only one way Mercer could have known about her.”

I go quiet. He hears it.

“It’s all right, Dante,” he says.

“Cut the crap, Fox,” I say. “What I did doesn’t compare to what you’ve done. What you did brought a great deal of pain on me and my family and that’s not something I’m prepared to forgive.” I hear his breath, calm and steady. “Actions have consequences.”

“I know that,” he says. “My life is nothing but consequences as of late, but I have people who depend on me. I’m betting you do, too.”

“You’re not wrong about that.”

“I’m not asking for forgiveness. Just a little distance.”

I glance around my childhood home and fill my lungs with clear, forest air. “Well, as it stands, distance isn’t too far out of my way right now… but I suppose you already know that, too.” He says nothing. “I have more important things to worry about than you, Fox.”

“Same goes for me.”

“But if I ever see you again face-to-face, well…” I pause. “You know how that will end up, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, then.” I take a breath, forcing my rage into the background and locking it away. “Good talk.”

I hang up and stuff the phone into my pocket. My ears readjust, taking in the noises of wildlife and the steady rolling of water against the dock.

“Dante?” Lucy stands in the doorway with twitching green eyes. She tilts her head at me. “You okay?”

I smile, looking her up and down. “Yeah.”

“Who was that?”

I bridge the short gap between us and lay my palm against her cheek. “No one who matters.”

My lips find her skin, gently grazing the smoothness of her forehead. Her scent fills my nose and her warmth changes my cold skin. She turns her face up and I kiss her softly, absorbing as much of her as I can.

“Wanna play cards, Mr. Hart?” she asks, holding a deck in her hand.

I bend down and pick her up. Joy spreads across her face as she wraps her arms around my neck. “Whatever you want, Ms. Vaughn.”

I carry her over the threshold and kick the door closed behind us.

Chapter 36

Boxcar

One Week Ago

Rob from the rich. Give to the poor.

It’s an ideology so beloved people have written songs about it. The classic tale of heroic vigilantism that people usually have no moral issues with despite it going against most standards of basic American economics.

But I ain’t Robin Hood.

And this rich prick had it coming anyway.

Ian Botsford is the latest in a long line of assholes. In the Chicago branch of the family, anyway. The Las Vegas boys have a decent reputation and I haven’t dug up any skeletons in the sand that tell me otherwise. They give vast amounts of their wealth to charity. Two of them work for the family business, one of them is a baseball player, and the other plays bass for a rock band. Their mother comes from a political family and — surprisingly — actually uses those powers for good. I’ve got nothing against them.

This guy, Ian, on the other hand…

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