Page 12 of Wreckage of Me
The way he says my father’s name this time cannot disguise how he feels about him, which brings me to the fact that Devereaux still hasn’t told me what reason he’s got to take Pops down.
“I have a sniper trained on you as we speak. He’s pointing right at your head specifically.”
As if on cue, Malone puts a large laptop on the table. The screen is on, showing inside my father’s office, where we can see him sitting at his desk, scared look on his face.
Malone types something on his phone, and I watch in fascination as a bullet comes out of nowhere through the partially opened window and takes out the stupid ass lamp on my father’s desk. It’s got the naked torso of a woman as the base, with the switches for the lightbulb wired into the nipples. I always hated that fuckin’ lamp.
“What do you want?” My father’s voice comes over the line strong in spite of us clearly seeing the fear on his face on the computer monitor.
“Arlene just got some paperwork.” My eyebrows go up in surprise at hearing this fucker calling my mom by her first name. “She will need to call Wyatt to let him know she’s bringing Ethan to him. You will allow that.”
“I will do no such fucking thing,” my father explodes. “And if you think that I would, you’re stupider than I thought. I fell for that once before!” My eyebrows go up in surprise. What the fuck is he talking about?
“You will get her and the boy there safely. In two days’ time,” Devereaux continues like no one’s interrupted him. “Make it happen, Mr. Bricks.”
“And what if I don’t?”
“I’ll add twenty-five thousand dollars more to the amount you owe me for every half an hour I have to wait on you to make arrangements for Arlene and Ethan to travel. And the amount will be due in full at the time they should be in Illinois.”
With that, Devereaux hangs up the call and calmly puts the phone into the pocket of his trousers.
“There. Done.”
“Very impressive,” I nod I approval. “I am counting on you to get my son safely to my brother.”
“Just as I am counting on you to take out your father, Mr. Knight,” Devereaux deadpans. “I will not accept failure.”
“Understood.”
Something is stuck in the back of my mind, though, and I can’t think what’s wrong with this whole picture.
“You sounded pretty sure of yourself when you talked about my mother,” I state with confidence. Devereaux’s face remains impassive with the exception of his nostrils flaring lightly at the mention of Ma.
“We go way back,” is all he says.
“How far back?” I need to know what’s going on here.
“Far enough,” and now he sounds aggravated. “Any other questions?”
“If you want me to take my father out, you better have more for me than what you just gave me,” I eye him with amusement.
“If you want me to have your son delivered safely to your brother, then take care of your mother, you need to be happy with what I just gave you,” he smirks at me. “All you need to concern yourself with right now is the fact that without me, you’re gonna end up in prison. For a long time.”
“Fair enough,” I concede. I don’t really have a choice right now. “I need you to get Becca off my father’s radar though. I can’t have her hurt.”
“Miss Garner will be well taken care of,” Devereaux assures me. “I do have to say that I did not expect her to be this stubborn. So I had to plan for that.”
“In what way?” I need Becca to make it back home safely. I need her to stay there, where no one can harm her.
“She is about to meet with Detective Crone, or so she thinks, to give her statement. After that,” he taps the table twice, “she’ll be leaving for Montana. In a funny turn of events, my daughter refuses to go back home without Rebecca.”
The statement makes me smile, while at the same time I regret bringing Becca into my world. I had no business coming to Dallas this weekend. I snuck out only because I wanted to see her. I saw it as my last chance to see her. I feel this wild connection to this woman, and it makes me sick to my stomach thinking that she’ll end up dead because of me.
“Are you ready?” Malone snaps me out of my daydreaming about Becca.
“Ready for what?”
“Showtime,” he grins, his teeth glistening against the darkness of his skin. He taps on a couple of keys on the keyboard of the laptop we watched my father on earlier, and there she is.
