Page 2 of Dirty Daria
David slams into my side, I’m sure on purpose, as Mack makes the final turn onto the street in the affluent area where David lives. The house is Laurel’s; David moved in with her shortly after they were engaged. It’s much nicer than anywhere he’s ever lived before. Seeing it reminds me of a conversation I had earlier this week with Mack, who is convinced that David is using Laurel for her money and was not shy about telling me. He considers it a long con. Though, to me a con has a payoff and an end date. Which means, unless David has a plan that includes divorce and no prenup, this doesn’t really qualify. Because I’m certain Laurel’s family are the type of people to demand a prenuptial agreement, regardless.
We pull up in front of the house, Mack turns off the engine and pivots to face us.
“Don’t fuck this up, Tremblay.”
David nods in response.
“This is serious, David,” I tell him. “There is nothing I can do to help you if you don’t cooperate. Do you understand?”
He nods again and says, “I understand,” then moves to open the car door.
I place a hand on his forearm to stop him. “I’m sure I don’t have to remind you this stays between the three of us. Under no circumstances can you tell Laurel what is going on.”
“Yep,” David clips.
I nod, releasing him to exit the car and head into the house.
“Merry fucking Christmas,” he says as he slams the truck door and limps slightly up the walkway. I wait until he’s inside the house before I exit the backseat and join Mack in the front.
“Will he cooperate?” Mack looks at me as he starts the engine.
“I think so. We’ve got time on our side; he’s not going anywhere before his wedding. No way he messes that up, not with everything he’s got on the line.”
“I agree,” Mack says.
We sit at the curb long after David goes inside, engine idling, waiting for the plain clothes officer who will be watching the house tonight to arrive. Once we’re accelerating on the freeway on-ramp I finally ask Mack what’s been on my mind the entire night.
“Want to tell me what Quinn and Daria were doing there tonight?”
“Nope.” His face stays impassive, but I see his jaw tighten.
“Do it anyway.”
“Excuse me?” Mack’s eyes widen as he turns to face me. “Care to take a step back and rephrase?”
“No, actually, I don’t.” I’m pissed off, feeling the ultimate betrayal from David, and part of me doesn’t give a fuck right now that I’ve offended Mack with my request. “We’re supposed to be partners, Mack, yet you’ve been off doing your own thing all week. Then you show up at the party tonight acting as security, which is a fucking joke.AndQuinn is there as a guest with Daria as your goddamn getaway driver.”
“First of all”—Mack’s voice rises with each word—“me as security? Not a fucking joke. Second, you’ve had your head up your ass where David is concerned so I did what I needed to prove he’s guilty.”
“You could have fucking talked to me about it, you didn’t have to take it this far.”
“I did try to talk to you. You knew I thought he was guilty. Yet, I guaran-goddamn-tee you, you went into the party earlier tonight as the best man to your friend.Notas a federal agent gathering intel on a subject.” Mack is pissed.
But, he has a point.
Not that I’m willing to concede yet.
“Why was Quinn there?” I ask.
“I planted her.”
“Why?”
“As a distraction to cause chaos. So I could get Tremblay off on his own. Something you almost fucked up—I might add.”
“Which wouldn’t have been an issue had you just told me what was going on,” I argue.
Mack shrugs in response.
