Reveal (Wicked Ways #2)(66)

“I should’ve known.”

“Excuse me?”

My first thought: the fucker is a client who somehow found out Vaughn and Vee are the same person.

My second thought: the asshole is her private investigator, the man who should have known about her uncle and warned her about the warrant out for her arrest but didn’t.

The third? A homeless man looking for some blow? A man lost? Nah. Neither. Not quite sure yet, but every damn part of me hates him already.

His laugh rings out into the quiet suburbia night. “You the sugar daddy Vaughny’s using now?” He lifts his chin toward my Maserati parked in the driveway before his eyes glance to my watch again. “Sell your soul for some of her pussy now?”

My body tenses. My fists clench. My personal demand to shut my mouth falls on my own deaf ears. “Get the fuck out of here.”

His laugh rumbles on the verge of hysteria. He seems crazy, but there’s an awareness in his eyes that tells me to use caution.

“The price just went up.”

“Price?”

“For Lucy.”

“Brian, I presume.” My voice is unaffected despite the sudden rage and need to protect that owns me. Does he know Lucy’s inside? Is that why he’s here?

“Ah, rich and smart.” His smile widens, exposing stained but perfectly straight teeth.

“I suggest you turn your ass around and never set foot here again.”

“Or else what?” He throws his hands up. “You gonna sic the Big Bad Wolf on me?” He laughs. “That’s got nothing on the hell I’ve gone through. Losing my wife. My daughter.” Not a single word holds an ounce of sincerity in it.

“You don’t give a rat’s ass about Lucy, and you sure as hell didn’t give one about Samantha either.”

“Is Vaughny telling lies again?” He tsks and makes the shame motion—his index finger running over the length of his other index finger. “She has a bad habit of that, you know. Twisting the truth to fit whatever it is she wants at any given moment. I’d question everything she tells you. Sam was always warning me about that.”

“All you care about is where your next high is coming from.”

The grin he flashes sends chills down my spine. “Don’t be so sure about that, Daddy Warbucks, because I definitely care about how much you’re going to pay me.”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh? You think you’re not going to write a check out to me?”

“For what?” I ask, although my stomach is already churning, because I know what he’s going to say.

“To pay me off so I don’t steal the adoption right out from underneath that cunt of a sister-in-law of mine’s nose.”

Each word he speaks ignites a fire in me like I’ve never known before. My body vibrates from the physical restraint to not swing my fist before he says another word.

“No one’s paying you a dime, you worthless piece of shit.” I take a step closer to him, shoulders squared, fists clenched. “You think this is going to win you favor in the whole process? Selling your daughter to pay for your habit? Huh? You might think you can get away with saying it to Vaughn. That people won’t believe her. But I’m a lawyer. I know a lot of people who can make your life fucking miserable.”

He claps his hands slowly, his expression one of complete indifference. “Congratulations. I’m so impressed. You must be really smart to screw people out of money for a living.”

“I said it before, and I’ll say it again. Get the fuck out of here.”

“Or what?”

It’s my turn to laugh, loud and disbelieving, as I imagine breaking the fucker in two. My hands itch to. “Take your pick. Broken nose. Hospital bed—”

“She really has you whipped, doesn’t she?”

“Last warning.”

“Tell me,” he says as he sniffs loudly and completely disregards my comment. “I always wondered something about Vaughny.”

“Your choice.”

“Is her pussy as tight as she is uptight?”

In my mind my fist is plowing into his face. One punch after another until my knuckles are bruised and his face is bloody. In my imagination this all takes place, and there isn’t a single repercussion to beating the shit out of this loser.

But I’ve let my reactions govern too much when it comes to Vaughn. When it comes to fucking things up for her.

And it takes every ounce of restraint I have to not throw the punch.

Every.

Ounce.

My muscles ache from being so tense.

“So it is that good, huh?” It’s not his words but rather the way he looks at Vaughn as she opens the door and gasps at the sight of him.

“Get the fuck out of here,” I grit out, every single vestige of control I have snapping in my words. I take an aggressive step toward him, and the fucker jerks to step back and trips, plowing face-first into the concrete retaining wall of her raised flower bed.

He yelps as I watch him flounder on the ground, and I feel nothing at the sight of the blood where the brick has cut his cheekbone.

“Vaughny,” he says when his eyes finally focus on her standing beside me, and the hairs stand up on the back of my neck from the way he undresses her with his eyes, like he’s imagining violating her every way he can. “You didn’t tell me you had a man.”