I narrow my eyes at him, and he stares back with a blistering intensity.
“I don’t know, but I intend to find out.”
36
SULLIVAN
“Did you beat Brandon up?”
Tate and I have been driving for fifteen minutes since dropping Ashley off and she’s finally spoken to me.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“You look surprised, but I think you knew the answer before asking the question.”
I meet Cliff’s eyes in the rearview mirror and dip my chin. The soundproofed privacy screen slides up into position.
“You don’t want Cliff to hear that you beat a guy up and gave him a black eye? Probably some broken ribs?” Tate scoffs.
“Pretty sure Cliff knows seeing as he’s the one who helped toss your ex into the trunk of this very car two days ago.”
Tate blinks, her pouty lower lip falling open. “What?”
“He deserved it, Tate. He stole from you.”
“I know, but?—”
“But nothing.”
I adjust my cufflinks, tension oozing up my spine at the hint of concern in her voice for the jackass.
I inhale slowly and recall his sniveling pleas as he’dhammered on the inside of the trunk as Denver and I sat in the backseat together and chatted about the Yankees’ latest game while we drove out to his cabin in the woods. They replay in my head like a sweet melody, easing my tension.
It was the perfect place to scare a pathetic asshole shitless while letting him believe I was going to murder and bury him where no one will find him. Denver even had an axe. A little steak blood on it in preparation of our arrival and Brandon Rutter pissed himself thinking that’s the last place his head was going to be attached to his body.
I don’t recall the last time I hit actual flesh and blood, and not the punching bag in my home gym.
It was rather therapeutic.
I turn and pin Tate under a pointed gaze.
“If you’re waiting for an apology, then you’ll be disappointed. My only regret is the guy’s still able to walk. Now tell me how your meeting went.”
Tate shakes her head, breaking my gaze and looking out of her window. I fight the urge to take her chin and turn her back to me so I can see her eyes. So I can gauge what she’s thinking.
“They want to sign me,” she says.
She flicks a look in my direction when I remain silent.
“Did you hear me? They want to sign me?”
“I heard you.” I hold back my smile at the spark of defiance in her eyes. It’s only when she’s pissed at me that I see it. But I love the times she lets her fire out.
“I suppose I should thank you. If Brandon hadn’t come forward, it might have been harder to prove what he did.” She turns away again.
“No. You had all the evidence. Him getting his ass kicked was for my benefit, not yours.”
