Page 19 of Wreckage of Me
7
Wrecker
“Your father is justa tad smarter than I’d given him credit for, Mr. Knight,” Devereaux states in his pompous tone. “I have decided that once you get him for me, I want to put a bullet in his head.”
“Is that so?” I lift an eyebrow at him in question.
“It is so,” he flicks at a small speck of something on his perfectly pressed trousers. “I spoke with Arlene this morning,” the fucker continues to surprise me when he brings up my mother. “She went to attend Wyatt and Alison’s wedding in Illinois.”
My heart starts beating erratically in my chest. It’s really bizarre that before, I went for years without seeing my brother, but now I feel off for having missed his wedding.
“Did she say anything about Ethan?” My voice cracks when I say his name. I hate myself for how vulnerable I sound in this moment.
“Ethan is fine.” Devereaux’s reply is short and to the point. “Happy,” he adds as if on second thought.
“That’s good,” I nod in approval, my eyes focused on the floor.
I’ve been living in this safe house of sorts for the past three months while trying to trap my father and bring his head to Devereaux on a silver platter. But, like Devereaux said, my father is smarter than we gave him credit for.
“I’m thinking of blowing up the club house,” Devereaux tells me in a casual tone.
“What?” I snort out, half laughing, and half horrified because I know he’s not joking.
“We are going to smoke the fucker out,” he states calmly. “If you want anyone out, you need to make sure they’re out.” He pauses for a second. “Or they die too.”
I nod in understanding. This has been gone long enough. My father, like he knows I’m looking for him, has been able to stay away for three months now. And he somehow got the money he owed to Devereaux. As far as he knows, my mother too, I am in jail awaiting on my trial. The fucker didn’t even offer to get me an attorney. I thought he’d send the club attorney to represent me. I got nothing.
I called my mother a couple of times, and all she did was cry. That was depressing as fuck. I also know that my brother has been trying to dig into the case and find out what’s going on, but Devereaux was able to block his attempts.
“I will need you and your friends to rig the place up,” Devereaux cuts into my thoughts. “And make sure Shortie makes it out in one piece,” he adds. Good to know he protects family, I muse. So unlike my father.
“I will need my mom out too,” I say while my brain going through a mental list of everything that needs to be done.
“I’ll take care of your mother.” Devereaux stands up abruptly and walks toward the door.
“What the fuck does that mean?” If this fucker thinks he’s gonna hurt my mom to get at my father, he can think again. My father won’t give a shit about any of that. It’ll just hurt Wyatt if anything happened to her.
And me, I realize with a start. It will hurt me too if anything happened to her.
“We have history, Arlene and I,” Devereaux finally concedes, surprising the shit out of me. “I would never purposely do anything to hurt her.”
“What kind of history?” I prod, hoping to get more out of him.
“That’s something your mother will have to decide when she’s ready to share with you or anyone else. Just know,” he fixates his black eyes on me, “that I made plenty of sacrifices to make sure she stayed safe over the years.”
“Join the club,” I snort out and roll my eyes at the ceiling. This dude thinks he made sacrifices to keep my mother safe. I lived every day of my life being an asshole to make sure I kept her safe.
“You understand then, Mr. Knight,” Devereaux is back to his snobby self, our short- lived moment definitely over.
“I’m trying.” A laugh escapes the back of my throat when I say that. I still don’t understand what my mother has anything to do with Devereaux. I’ve never heard of this man in my life until the day he had me kidnapped and told me with very little fanfare that I was going to take my father down for good if I wanted to have a life of my own outside the club.
It’s almost like he’s able to read my mind. Always one step ahead of me.
“Have you heard anything about how Becca’s doing?” I’m weak and can’t help the question escaping from the deepest recess of my mind. I’ve been trying so hard not to think of her for all these months.
“Rebecca is fine,” Devereaux gives me that little morsel of information, even though he knows I shouldn’t be asking.
“That’s good to hear,” I nod and turn around, ready to start pacing again.
