“Thanks to me, you should be hearing from your darling stepdaughter soon.”
“Marvin?” The voice went gruff with suspicion and alarm. “What the hell did you do now?”
Stupid Barnaby. He thought himself so ruthless with his gambling habit and occasional fits of temper, but he didn’t have the guts it took to play real hardball. In fact, if he hadn’t taken matters into his own hands, Barnaby would still be married to that prissy, complaining bitch and living in middle-class squalor.
“I just offered the gal a little inspiration, that’s all.”
Marvin heard a gulp. “Did you…?”
“Kill her?” He laughed at the thought. “There are a lot of things I want to do to Dakota, but offing her isn’t one of them. Not yet anyway. Not till I get my fill.”
“Haven’t you done enough?” Barnaby snarled, and that made Marvin laugh.
“You have balls, Barnaby. I’m impressed.” His voice hardened. “But don’t shove aside the blame. You owe me big-time. We both know this is the only way you’ll be able to pay, so don’t blow it or the next time I visit, it won’t just be your furniture I break.”
“I accept my part in this mess.”
“Lighten up, man. You should be hearing from Dakota soon.” His ex-wife was nothing if not protective of others. Look at how she’d gone running back to that bitch mother of hers. Marvin shook his head. “When you hear from her, take the credit and she’ll hand the fighter over to you.”
Barnaby didn’t ask for what he should take credit. He said only, “You sound sure of yourself.”
“I always am.” Marvin closed his phone and tossed it on the leather seat beside him. Dakota might think herself tough, but when it came right down to it, he knew she was still just a sad, lonely, and scared little girl.
She couldn’t bear to see anyone hurt, especially not one of her few friends. She’d deliver Simon, all right. Then Barnaby would get the money he owed. He’d get his debt cleared.
And Marvin would get so much more.
TWOhours of talking and comparing hadn’t lent them any more clarity to the situation. Barber only knew that there’d been three men of medium height, one of them muscular, the other two soft from overindulgence. He didn’t know what they wanted, only that they’d intended no good.
He and Simon both thought the incidents were related.
Dakota knew they were.
They both assumed it was Marvin behind the attacks.
Dakota didn’t have a single doubt.
While the two of them chewed over possibilities, she acted blasé, but she knew what she had to do. And soon. She wouldn’t let Barber be hurt. She wouldn’t let anyone be hurt because of her.
In the two hours that they talked, Bonnie started to sober enough to become a bigger pain in the butt. She alternately wanted to cry on Simon, make out with him, or accuse him.
And when she wasn’t doing that, she stayed busy glaring at Dakota and calling her names that were too incomprehensible to make out.
It amazed Dakota that even after tying one on and surviving an assault, Bonnie still looked polished in a way Dakota could never be.
Her nylons weren’t torn. Not a speck of dirt marred her pale skin. Her dress fit impeccably. Other than missing her lipstick and her hair now hanging loose, Bonnie looked the same as she did when she’d started the night. If she’d keep her mouth shut and sit still, it’d be hard to know she was drunk.
That Simon wore only his flannel pants hadn’t gone unnoticed by Bonnie. She’d spent more time gazing longingly at him than drinking the coffee that Barber kept putting in front of her.
Dakota tried to ignore Bonnie’s fascination with Simon, but it wasn’t easy. Knowing that she’d come running to Simon, and knowing that Simon had once cared enough to spend five years of his life with the woman, worked on Dakota’s temper.
Just as the earliest rays of sunrise crawled through the window, Bonnie seemed to fall asleep. She even started to snore.
Barber half smiled at her, then glanced at Simon. “Think she’ll remember any of this?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen her drunk before.”
“I don’t think anyone was trying to hurt her. She was just with me.”