Page 18 of The Bitter Truth

“You know why I called you in.” Dominic retrieves the crumpled paper again, spreading it out on top of the desk. Then he digs in his pocket for the original note from his mailbox. Both are written the same—dark, bold lettering that practically screams at him. The name BRYNN written twice.

As if bored but willing to entertain him, Boaz leans forward and studies the papers. “Okay?” Boaz glares at Dominic. “They’re just words. They mean nothing.”

“They mean everything, Boaz,” Dominic hisses. “You don’t understand. There is someone out there who probably saw you that night.”

“Not possible,” he retorts in a matter-of-fact tone. “I was careful. No one was around.”

Dominic sits forward, dropping his elbows on the table. “Well, there are only three people who know about Brynn, and that’s you, me, and that weird-ass cleaner. I’m not sending these notes to myself. Are you doing this?” Dominic’s eyes fall to Boaz’s large fists in his lap. One wrong word and he’ll likely blacken his eye, governor or not.

He almost regrets asking when Boaz sits up taller, cocking an enraged, bushy brow. “Are you out of your damn mind, boy?” he snaps. “I came all the way out here to help your ass, just like I did out there. Why would I waste my time doing something like this for both of us to get caught?”

“I—I don’t know. For more money, probably? Jolene told me True Oil let you go. It could be blackmail.”

Boaz’s jaw ticks, but nothing further. He sits back in his seat with flared nostrils. “They did let me go, but I don’t need their damn money. I get plenty of that from you, and so does my cleaner. Neither of us have ever spoken about our jobs to anyone. We wouldn’t jeopardize ourselves with silly notes.”

As much as Dominic wants to ask why Boaz has been fired, he doesn’t bother. He can ask later. Right now, he needs to know what the hell is up with these letters. “Did you tell anyone else about that night? Anyone at all? Your wife, maybe? Or a buddy you know at some bar or something?”

“No, Dominic. I didn’t. I’m not married, and I wouldn’t be that stupid. Look, I’ve done work like that before, not just for you. It’s my job. People like you with your status decide to make a mess and I clean it up.”

Dominic nods, wanting to be reassured by that, but not being able to. Boaz is too calm about this. These letters should frighten him too, especially if neither of them are sending them. That means someone saw them. Someone knows.

Boaz had done a job for Dominic way before he’d become governor, back when Dominic had attended a seminar with Jolene at True Oil Co. A man robbed Dominic one night after he’d picked up salads and smoothies for him and Jolene to eat at the hotel. The person took his wallet, his watch, and the wad of cash in his pocket. Dominic was upset about it and had informed the police. Boaz overheard the entire thing and told Dominic he’d get his assets back for him. Within a couple hours, Boaz appeared at his hotel room door, returning his wallet, watch, and wad of cash with a stain of blood on it. “He didn’t get far,” was all Boaz said, and Dominic had been intrigued by him ever since, despite Jolene’s warning to stay away from him.

Boaz was the man True Oil Co. paid to clean up their mess. He was Winton Hart’s bodyguard, Winton being Jolene’s dad. Winton had used Boaz one too many times to clear up situations his wife Naomi created. She was the true definition of a cougar. She had a thing for younger guys, and all of it gave some of those men the balls to sue the company. Many of them cried sexual assault, believe it or not. They’d say Naomi came on to them and forced them into doing things. Boaz was the one who’d take money and an NDA to those young men and give them the option to either take the cash and shut the hell up or face a worse threat. They always signed and took the money.

But Brynn was a different situation for Dominic. It wasn’t about money when he’d dealt with her . . . well, not by the end. With Brynn, this was something he couldn’t erase at all with an NDA.

“Have you told your wife about this?” Boaz asks.

“Hell no,” Dominic counters, frowning. “And I refuse. She’s the last person who needs to know about it.”

“Well, do you have any idea who might be doing this?”

Dominic leans back in his chair, thinking. “No one I can think of. Like I said, the only people who know about this are you and me . . . and Brynn, but she’s dead.”

“Right.” That’s all he says. No added factor. “I’ll stick around town a few days, keep my ear to the ground. Let me know if you come up with anything new. It is possible someone saw you with that woman in New Orleans—someone she knows. Did she mention any friends that night? Anyone close to her?”

“No—I mean, not that I can remember.” Dominic runs a hand over his head.

“Well, if anything else comes up, let me know. I’ll check out news in New Orleans, make sure nothing has surfaced.”

“Yeah. Good idea.”

Boaz is out of his chair and lumbering out of the office. The door creaks as he leaves, and Dominic sighs, feeling worse than before he’d arrived. If it’s not Boaz, who the hell else can it be?

His mind goes back to Jolene. Is it possible that she knows he was with someone that night in New Orleans and is using that against him? But why would she do that? Why torment him right now? No, it can’t be Jolene. She wants him to have the governor’s seat again just as much as he does. They’ve built a life together and despite how often she threatens to leave him, she hasn’t. Because she knows he is who she belongs with, and that she’d lose everything if they split apart.

He’s felt awful about the times he’s cheated on Jolene, slept with other women behind her back. He swore after Brynn he’d never do anything like that again and he’s kept that promise—though, it was more for his own conscience than anything. Surely, there’s no way Jo knows about Brynn Wallace? He’s never talked about her, never mentioned her. He’s purposely avoided bringing up his past with Jolene other than information about his deceased mother. And with the shares, he’s careful. He keeps it covered.

No. It can’t be Jo. Someone else out there knows the truth. Like that Eden woman from the rally. She knows things.

Something out of the room catches his eye—a tiny person doing cartwheels. He gasps, rubs his eyes, and realizes it’s only the mansion’s chocolate Labrador puppy, Fred. Someone makes kissing noises for Fred to come to them and he bounds through the mansion to find them.

Dominic can’t stand it anymore. He’s losing his mind. He shoots out of his chair and collects his keys before leaving the office.

He needs to clear his head.

SIXTEEN

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