Page 112 of The Blackmail of Denise Randall

“Don’t play games with me, princess. I’ve known you a lot longer than you think.” He takes a strand of my hair between his fingers. “I still have things to do today. But tonight, we’re going back to old times.” With a jerk of his head, he says, “Nine, watch him.”

I look away only to meet the burning gaze of Brennon. “Why doesn’t he call you by your name?”

With no emotion whatsoever, he says, “It’s mutual. I don’t call him Dad either. He’s Seven.”

We start walking toward Roland’s car. I feel beads of sweat begin to form around my hairline and the back of my neck. I wrack my brain with another way to approach this horrible situation. Keaton spins around and grabs Isabelle.

“Don’t play games with me,” Roland shakes his head. “Release her and let’s go.”

“Denise isn’t going with you.”

“Would you really shoot Isabelle? Would you shoot someone, for her?” Roland nods toward me.

“I don’t want to.” Keaton raises the gun but doesn’t point it directly at anyone. Isabelle’s eyes widen. Roland shrugs and aims his gun at them. He pulls the trigger and Keaton releases a short scream. Blood begins to soak on the right thigh of his jeans. “Keaton!” I scream, and start to run toward Keaton. A strong arm hooks around my waist. I fight to get loose as I scream Keaton’s name. “You son-of-a-bitch! Keaton!”

Isabelle moves away from Keaton, and looks back at Roland. His grip on me tightens and he bellows to Keaton. “Don’t play games with me. I’ll kill Isabelle, too, and say you did it. I’ll omit the part about her being part of my crew. In fact, I may say she was part of your crew.”

He isn’t bluffing. My eyes go back to Brennon and he knows it too. His jaw hardens, and his eyes fill with hate.

“Get up.” He shouts. Tears stream down my face as I watch Keaton struggle to stand. “Keep wasting my time. I won’t have to shoot you again. You’ll bleed out. You can either have a slow death or we can take you to the hospital where you can confess. I suggest you make your decision now.”

In short painful breaths, Keaton manages to say, “Let. Denise. Go. I’ll confess.”

We all walk to the car and slide into the backseat. I keep watching Keaton’s leg as the blood spreads. How is he not falling apart right now? Him gritting his teeth is the only indication he’s even in pain. His eyes seem more focused on the two individuals in front of us, as though he’s trying to calculate their next move. Or ours, perhaps?

A few tears stream down my face, as shame consumes me for getting us in this mess and breaking down. Keaton’s in the same situation as me, only worse, since he’s been shot, but he’s being so strong. I can be strong. I will be strong.

“Nine, follow us in your truck. Isabelle,” he hands her a gun, “keep it pointed at him.”

Brennon nods and walks away. A few minutes later, a fancy black pickup, that I recognize as Brennon’s, comes up behind us. I stare at the back of Roland’s head and feel myself going from scared to angry. I’m disgusted with myself that I was with him. Before I can come up with a plan, Brennon’s truck slams into our trunk. “What the hell?” Roland yells.

The truck rams into us again. Roland pulls over to the side of the road and gets out of the car. The truck pulls over and then another car flies in.

Kamila Jamerson. She lifts her hand and points the gun at Roland.

“You crazy bitch!”

“Watch your mouth. You think you’re going to sleep with me and then go off with that spoiled little brat?”

What?

“Brennon clued me in on the plan. I stayed with my husband because you told me to. You said you were going to leave your wife when it was right, but we couldn’t let people know. We had to take it slow. You left her. But now you want to leave me, too, to be with some twenty-one -year-old?”

I jump at the sound of a gun being fired. Roland grabs his shoulder. “Kamila!”

“Don’t Kamila me, you sorry son of a bitch. You might treat your kids like shit. You might treat your employees and little drug dealers like shit. But nobody treats my daughter like shit, and nobody fucks with me.”

A second shot fires, and, this time, Roland collapses to the ground. Isabelle screams and jumps out of the car. I scramble to the front seat. “The car has OnStar. We can call for help.”

Keaton crawls up to the driver seat. “We’ve got to get out of here!”

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