Page 74 of Dark Torment

JONATHAN

Liv has been so fuckinghappy the past few days. I wish I could meet her Grams and thank her for having the forethought to protect those memories. I doubt she had any idea just how much she’d be saving our girl when she did it, but I know she’d be happy just the same.

Sometimes I wonder if Liv is right, and her Grams actually sent me to her. If she did, then I’m grateful. I never knew happiness like this until her.

I’m also grateful because I know for a fact that Liv would be dead if I hadn’t been the one to get that contract, and that pisses me off. Enough so that I’m getting annoyed with waiting for this sorry fucker to drown himself in liquor.

He’s been broke for barely three days, and he’s already wallowing in alcohol and self pity.

As expected, he went to the feds, but they’d already received the undeniable proof of his involvement against Olivia and accused him of purposely ridding himself of his money in order to seem like the victim. They’re even accusing him of having something to do with Ben’s disappearance and likely murder. If he can want one of his children dead, there’s a good chance he could want both gone, after all.

I hadn’t thought about that angle beforehand, but it definitely works in our favour. No one will accuse Olivia or me of murdering her brother. Especially not after she handled the original questioning so well and lawyered up. Sort of.

There are definite benefits to her dating someone of my stature. The police wouldn’t dare question her around me the way they had in her home before, because I’d put a stop to the questioning before it even started.

They did come and speak to us about the allegations against Philip and told us to remain clear of hime, and safe because he had posted bail, regardless of the charges. He has friends in high places and dirt to blackmail enough of the city to get free. I was banking on that.

And that brings us to now. Me standing outside of his house in the rain, watching him get drunk off his ass while he destroys his home.

I’m protected from the rain by an awning, but it’s pouring right now. It sets the depressing mood for this scene so well, too.

Once he’s drank at least four glasses of straight scotch and thoroughly ruined his house, I decide it’s time and open his sliding glass doors.

He jolts from his seat on the couch, eyes wide and filled with annoyance. “What the fuck?!” he spits, and it makes me smile.

What I wouldn’t give to feel his blood on my hands, but I’ll settle for his anger and fear. “Philip,” I say his name like I would in the courtroom, and he narrows his eyes.

“I know you,” he says quietly, trying to place me. “You work for the DA’s office,” he states, shock filling his tone. “Don’t tell me you’re here to offer me a deal.”

I shake my head at the utter stupidity he just spewed. “Fairly certain I would have used the front door for that. And gone through your lawyer rather than coming to you directly during off hours,” I state dryly.

“Then why are you here?” he asks, sitting back on the couch. It’s clear he doesn’t view me as a threat. That’s his mistake.

“Revenge,” I state simply.

He turns to look at me while he downs another glass of amber liquid. He’s making it too easy for me.

“For what, exactly?” he scoffs, standing and swaying a little.

I just smile. “For the love of my life.” I smile wider, baring my teeth, and his eyes widen.

“I think you’re mistaken,” he stammers out, taking a step back. He’s starting to see the monster inside of me. The one I can’t hide when my anger over Olivia comes out. “I’ve never touched anyone in your life.” He shakes his head.

“Well, that’s just not true,” I say, pulling out the gun from the back of my jeans.

There aren’t any bullets in it. I refuse to make this look like a crime scene, but it’s something to make him do my bidding a little easier.

“Who? What? I don’t want any trouble.” He swallows, holding up his hands.

“Pity. I want all kinds of it.” I wave the gun at him as I step closer, and he flinches. “Go into the kitchen and get a chair, Philip,” I order.

“Why?” he asks, and I roll my eyes.

“Don’t ask questions, Philip. Be a good boy and go get the damn chair.” I point the gun at him, and he jumps.

Following him into the kitchen, he grabs one of the chairs he’d previously knocked over. “Now, take it back to the living room so it’s directly under the stairs.”

His eyes comically widen, fear shining through, and I cackle. He’s just figured out what I’m planning.

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