Page 39 of The Bitter Truth

He works to swallow.

“I know what you did to Brynn that night, Dominic. You and that other man. She told me all about it and, trust me, she will not let you live this down.”

His world is spinning. His mouth has become dry and is tacky from the cashews. His heart pumps double the speed as Shavonne turns away, her chin up and a smirk on her lips. She takes a few steps, but he can’t let her go. She knows too much. Brynn is still alive. They’re both here to hurt him—ruin him. He can’t let this happen.

He’s not quite sure what comes over him in the moment. One second, he’s watching her go, and the next he’s yanking her back by the ponytail, spinning her around, and slamming a fist into her face. He hits her so hard she collapses on the ground and the back of her head slams on the black pavement.

He breathes raggedly as he searches for witnesses. No one is nearby. That’s the good thing about a shitty motel in a terrible part of town. No one can stop him. No one cares. The neon lights of the motel flash on them, red hues swimming on one half of Shavonne’s bloody face. He must be quick.

He picks her body up and shoves her into the backseat of his SUV but not before rifling through her pockets and purse for her phone. When he finds it, he chucks it toward the trees. Then he’s behind the steering wheel, his tires screeching as he peels out of the lot. As he goes, eyes flickering to the rearview mirror, he feels around the floor for his phone. When he finds it, he dials Boaz and tells him what he did. He tells him that Brynn is alive and that if they don’t find her, they’re both going down.

Less than thirty minutes later, Boaz meets Dominic behind an abandoned warehouse.

“Take her to this address,” Dominic says, showing Boaz the screen of his phone.

“We’ll need to switch vehicles,” Boaz states. “Don’t want her DNA getting everywhere.”

Dominic hesitates. When he realizes he has no time to argue, he mutters, “Fine.”

Dominic hands him the keys, and once Boaz has them in hand, he stalks to Dominic’s SUV, climbs behind the wheel, and drives away.

Dominic watches the taillights fade, then stares at Boaz’s pickup truck—the same one that had Brynn’s body stored on the bed—and a sinking feeling buries its way inside him.

He can’t turn back now.

He has to finish this once and for all.

THIRTY-FIVE

DOMINIC

Four years ago

Once Boaz was gone with Brynn’s body, Dominic did all the things Boaz told him to do. The first thing he did was find wood for the fireplace. He went out back, where a small storage shed was, and found a few logs. He toted them inside, found matches on the mantel, and lit it up. Once he’d stripped out of his clothes and the gloves and tossed them into the raging fire, he went for his phone and called John.

“What the hell’s going on, Dominic?” John asked when Dominic told him to get somewhere quiet. “I was in the middle of a hearing.”

“That hearing will have to wait. Look, I wasn’t able to get the woman from last night to sign. Things escalated and well . . .” He wasn’t sure how much to phrase it over the phone. “Just do me a favor and keep my name off your visitation books, alright?”

“Sure, bud, but I never had you on them. As far as anyone knows, the house was vacant this weekend. And what do you mean you couldn’t get her to sign? What about the money? Did you offer it to her?”

“Of course, I did,” Dominic stated. “She just . . . she wouldn’t take it.”

“So, what does that mean? She can’t remember me, can she? She was hardly awake.” John was panicking. Dominic could sense it through the phone, in the lilt of his voice and his breathing. He needed to calm him down. If John felt threatened in any way, all would come crashing down.

“I’ll get her to sign, don’t worry about it. The money is still in my car, waiting for her. I told you she’d be a little fickle.”

“Sure, Dom. Alright.” But John didn’t sound so sure.

“The cameras have been off since yesterday morning, correct?” Dominic asked, just to confirm once more.

“Yes. Off since Thursday night, when you told me you needed a place to crash. Don’t worry, I control the security system of that property. You aren’t the only person having parties.” There was humor in John’s tone, and Dominic, though aggravated, was glad to hear it. It meant John wasn’t panicking anymore—that he too felt safe since the cameras were off. No cameras, no proof.

“Okay. Thanks, John. Sorry to interrupt your hearing. I’ll speak to you later.” Dominic hung up and ran naked through the house, going for his duffel bag in the master bedroom. He spotted the pool of blood and took note of the missing body and oatmeal rug. Boaz had left the bed as it was. Other than the blood, nothing was out of place.

He went to one of the guest rooms and showered, giving himself a thorough cleanse, scrubbing his hair, under his nails, his face, then he got out to get dressed. As he slipped into his pants, he couldn’t help wondering if people would see the smoke coming from the chimney, or if anyone would wonder why a person had the fireplace going in the dead of summer. He was being paranoid. Plenty of people lit fires for the hell of it.

Boaz was taking care of it. This was his job—to make serious matters or even people disappear. When Dominic had collected all his belongings and stuffed them into his duffel bag, he went to the master bedroom to get the glass Brynn had been drinking from, as well as his. In the kitchen, he washed the glasses with dish soap beneath hot water three times before putting them in the dishwasher. He was glad that, despite his shaky hands, the glasses hadn’t fallen and broke.

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