Page 11 of Wreckage of Me
I never felt more comforted than in this moment, with my mom thinking I may go to prison for life but promising to take care of my son. Who, ironically, up until five minutes ago, she suspected he was my father’s bastard. She really has a good heart, I think to myself, wishing I could get her out of the club at the same time as Ethan.
“I’ll come back for you, too,” I tell her without meaning to.
“What do you mean?” Ma sounds shocked to her core.
“I’m not leaving you there by yourself.” Just the thought of it makes me sick to my stomach. I did not make sacrifices for all these years, just for my mother to end up alone in the club, with no allies to speak of. My father would destroy her.
“I’ll be okay, baby,” she tries to assure me, but I can hear the tremor in her voice. She’s scared, as she should be.
“Know that I’ll be fine. And I’ll call you back, okay, Ma?”
“I love you,” is all she says, then hangs up, leaving me here staring at the floor, wondering what the next step should be.
I hope to fuck that this operation will not fail. I can’t have it fail. If it does, not only me that’s going to be dead. My son will pay, my mom, my brother, Sully, Puck, Shortie… Becca.
“Fuck!” I throw the cell phone on the hard surface of the old table sitting in this room, praying for the first time in a very long time. I cannot fail. Devereaux can’t fail me.
I start pacing back and forth, running my fingers through my hair, then hooking them to the back of my head. I’m not sure how long I do this for until I hear the heavy door to the room opening, then slamming shut, two sets of footsteps echoing through the large area of the room.
“Everything go well with your mother, Mr. Knight?” Devereaux’s voice calls for me once he’s closer. I turn around to look at him and Malone, whose massive body is shadowing Devereaux. The fucker is huge, both in height and width.
“My father is going to be a problem.” I don’t beat around the bush, we don’t have time for that.
“Well, we’ll just have to take care of that then,” Devereaux responds, his condescending smile always at the ready. I’d punch his teeth out had I not needed the fucker, especially when he lifts a hand and snaps his fingers at Malone who slaps a cell phone in his hand like he was expecting the move. I try really hard not to roll my eyes at the scene.
He taps a couple of times on the screen. That’s followed by a ringing noise echoing in the large and empty room of the huge warehouse we’re on.
“Devereaux,” my father’s voice comes through the line after two short rings, making my eyebrows go up in surprise.
“Mr. Bricks,” Devereaux calls my father by his club name, themisterin front of it making me chuckle. I bring a fist to my mouth, trying to stop myself from laughing out loud. I don’t want Pops to know I’m here.
“How may I help you,Mr. Devereaux?”
“Well, that is a great question, Mr. Bricks.” Devereaux really plays the perfect douchebag with his perfect proper speaking and all. “Do you have my money?”
And now I am really surprised. I had no idea that Pops even knew Devereaux, let alone that he owed him money or that they were in business at all.
“I thought you said I had till the end of the month,” Pops replies, the surprise and disdain obvious in his voice.
“I changed my mind, Mr. Bricks.” I snicker again at that. “The money needs to be transferred into the account sent to you by the end of the business day. That’s five p.m., Eastern Time. Just so it’s clear.”
There’s a long pause where you could hear a pin drop. It’s like a battle of the wills.
“I need a few more days,” my father finally breaks to say. “Something fell through,” he continues, and my ears perk up at that piece of information. We’ve been dealing with the same drug and weapon dealers for years. Everything’s been running like a well-oiled machine as far as I’m concerned. “I was supposed to cash in on this life insurance,” he continues. “The two fuckin’ idiots I paid for the job failed me.”
My chest hurts all of a sudden at hearing the confirmation from his own mouth that my father tried to have me killed.
“Yes,” Devereaux’s tone is laconic at best. “I heard about the mishap with the eldest son. Is that why you framed him for murder now?”
Another long pause comes over the line before my father chuckles nervously.
“Say what again?”
“I have video evidence of it all,” Devereaux says in amusement. “Every single thing,” he assures my father. “I’m assuming that you were not aware of your son being all the way out in Dallas when you orchestrated the entire thing. Is that how badly you want to get his kid under your wing?”
“That kid belongs to me,” my father bursts out into a fit of anger.
“Not according to the DNA testing,” Devereaux deadpans. “So here’s how this is going to go, Mr.Bricks.”
