Brigham sat forward, his attention laser-focused now. “Okay. How?”
“I need proof,” I said simply. “Real, undeniable proof of their guilt because my word means shit to the cops.”
Brigham’s frown deepened. “That’s bullshit, but okay. What’s the plan?”
“I confront him,” I said, pacing again, the adrenaline finally kicking in. “He’s a bully. He harasses and uses scare tactics to get what he wants, but when he found out Victor beat me up, he was pissed.”
Brigham’s entire body locked up. “Wait. He what?”
I waved a hand, brushing it off. “Oh, I forgot to mention that. Yeah. When Victor broke into my place a couple of years ago, he was high as hell and punched the shit out of me.”
Brigham let out a low, lethal growl. “You forgot to mention that? Jesus, Michelle.”
I just smiled.
He shook his head, his jaw tight with barely restrained anger. “So, what? You’re going to record him threatening you?”
“Exactly.” I nodded. “I’ll meet with them, record everything they say. But I need a favor from you. Tonight.”
Brigham didn’t even hesitate. “Name it.”
“We need to install a camera outside my apartment door,” I said. “Victor’s been arrested so many times that trespassing and robbery would put him back behind bars. And if he gets arrested, he’ll snitch on my dad to get a lesser sentence.”
Brigham exhaled sharply, nodding. “I’m on board. I think we can get one of those cameras at Walmart or something.”
“Let’s go.”
“In the middle of the night?” He arched a brow, but his voice wasn’t arguing.
“Yes,” I snapped. “I’ll call into work tomorrow. When I don’t show, they’ll notice and try to find me at my place. I wouldn’t put it past them to know my schedule, so deviating from it would mess with their plan. I’ll fire them up tonight with a call so they’ll definitely break in. Then, once we have them on video, I’ll tell them I have the money. They’re so desperate they’ll believe me.”
Brigham didn’t argue. He just grabbed his car keys and turned back to me with a look. “And Brooks?”
I closed my eyes, swallowing the guilt that clawed its way up my throat. “I’ll deal with him when this is over. When I have them by the balls and he isn’t threatened anymore.”
“You could call and tell him all this, you know,” Brigham said, his voice softer now. “Don’t let him suffer more than he already is.”
My throat tightened painfully. I hated the fact that I’d hurt him.
“He’ll want to help.” My voice was small now, the fire sputtering just slightly.
Brigham sighed, stepping closer, pressing a firm hand against my shoulder. “The fact that you called me means a lot, you know that? You never let anyone help you. And that’s badass, but, Mitch? You can’t be strong and alone all the time.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just whispered, “Thank you, Brigs. For everything.”
“That’s what friends do.” He shot me a grin, but there was an edge of worry behind it, like he knew I was about to do something stupid, reckless, or both. “I’ll be back. Installation shouldn’t take long.”
I nodded, but my mind was already elsewhere, already spinning ahead to what came next.
What I had to do. As soon as the door shut behind him, I inhaled, finding my bravery.
My hands clenched at my sides, my pulse a violent, erratic thing in my chest. Every muscle in my body hummed with adrenaline, my body too wired, too ready for what came next.
It was time to finish this.
I grabbed my phone—not to text, not to beg Brooks to forgive me—but to dial the number I had memorized my entire life. The one I had never wanted to call again.
My father answered on the first ring.
