Page 130 of Fighting Mr. Knight

He gives me a lazy smile, taking out the handkerchief again to wipe sweat from his bald head. “Bloody meds give you the sweats. Truth is, I didn’t give a shit that your old man was servicing my missus. Kept her gob shut from complaining about my girls. You think I was going to waste my libido on my washed-up missus? I had much better women bouncing on my cock.”

“Bullshit. Are you trying to rile me into beating you to a pulp?” My hands white-knuckle the side of the table. “Because I don’t mind joining you in here.”

He waves his hands. “No bullshit,” he says easily.

I study him carefully.

Fuck.

He’s telling the truth.

Because cowards lie and Donnie Wicks is anything but a coward. All these years, he said nothing. He didn’t outright claim or deny the killing. I thought his silence was his way of torturing Dad’s next of kin.

I fight to control the sudden rush of adrenaline surging through me. “If what you say is true, who did it?” I ask in a level tone.

“You know I’m no grass, which is why you haven’t gotten your answers before now. But since Gleeson choked it and I’m choking it I figured I’d put you out of your misery.”

“Gleeson?” I blink. “Who the hell is Gleeson?”

“Nobody, son. Absolutely fucking nobody.” He lets out a raspy laugh. “Just an idiot who liked to get a few things off the back of a lorry now and then.”

“You’re saying this random guy, Gleeson, killed Dad?” I hiss.

“Now you’re catching on. There was no big drama behind your dad’s death. A sloppy robbery gone wrong, that’s what it was. A guy in a balaclava making a quick buck.”

I slam my fist on the table. Donnie doesn’t flinch, but the guards inch closer.

He waves them away dismissively.

“How do you know this?”

“Come on, lad, don’t ask silly questions. I know everything.” The corner of his eyes crinkle. “You know why I want a closed casket, son?

“What?”

“Another paradox. Donnie Wicks dies at the hands of himself instead of all the men looking to put a bullet in his head. Have you seen a body riddled with lung cancer when it finally takes them? It ain’t pretty. Now, your dad, he had an open casket, didn’t he? Very unfortunate what happened.”

It’s his misplaced sympathy that finally does it for me.

I lift him up by the throat, feeling his weak pulse accelerate. And squeeze. He gargles as five heavy-footed guards pounce, knocking me to the floor. It takes all five to restrain me. They can beat me unconscious for all I care.

“It’s alright, Bobby, let the young lad up,” Donnie’s strangled voice calls from above us followed by a coughing fit.

“Time’s up, Knight,” the head guard says gruffly.

I pick myself off the floor to see all five guards standing between a red-faced Donnie and me.

Donnie winks. “Good chat, lad.”

He turns to walk off.

“Oh, Jack?” He calls after me casually. “There were others. They might not have put the blade in, but they were there. Next time you visit, bring me a beer.”

31

Bonnie

Lies. Unless you’re a pathological liar, they eat away at you from the inside out, like a parasite.

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