* * *
PHIL DIDN’T KNOW where to go or what to do, so he walked. Down the street, aimless, irate. A little scared.
Hands shoved in his pockets and shoulders hunched against the cold, he kept on plodding. He didn’t have a car or a phone, and he only had forty-two bucks in his pocket. It shocked him that Tabby would end it like that.
Pregnant. Jesus, he didn’t want a kid. Most of the time he hadn’t really wanted Tabby. Not anymore. But now...
She’d kicked him out.
That stung. Who the fuck did she think she was? He’d said all the wrong things, he knew that now. He should have demanded time to get his shit together. His clothes, his stash in the dresser drawer.
His gun.
And if demands hadn’t worked, he could have pleaded a little. She’d always been a sucker for his groveling. In the past, she’d forgiven him everything.
It was her asshole brother that had her being so unreasonable now. God, he hated Stack Hannigan and his holier-than-thou attitude. He wished he’d hired the guys to do more than slow Stack down. He wished he’d had them cut him a few times. Maybe that’d take the cockiness away.
But probably not. Everything was always so easy for Stack.
So what if Tabby funded Phil? They were married. That’s what married couples did. Hadn’t he stuck with her even though Stack despised him? And he hadn’t said shit when she moved in her mom.
He’d gotten her dogs, damn it. Hell of a gift. Now she’d thrown it all back in his face, making him leave with only the clothes on his back and his coat...
It suddenly occurred to him that he had his wallet. He yanked it out and saw the bank card. Oh, hell yeah.
Did they have any cash in the account?
Tabby had always done the banking and bill paying, but he assumed she had enough there to cover the rent and utilities.
Whatever the amount, it’d help.
With a new purpose, he quickened his step, and two blocks down he found a trio of teens hanging out. “Any of you got a phone I can use?”
They laughed. The tallest one said, “Fuck off, dude.”
Phil jutted his chin. “I’ll give you five bucks. A two-minute local call, that’s all I need.”
The kid eyed him. “Who you gonna call?”
“A friend. I just need to wrangle a ride, that’s all.”
After some more thought, the boy said, “Give me the money first.”
Phil pulled a five from his wallet and held it up. “Phone?”
The kid eyed him some more, and finally pulled a cell from his pocket.
As promised, Phil kept the call short and sweet. Soon as he finished the boy took his fin, and the group moseyed on. Twenty minutes after that, Whitney pulled up.
She grinned when she saw him huddled next to a tree, trying to avoid the wind. “Aw, poor baby. She kicked you out?”
Phil strode around the hood and got in. The heat of the car permeated his frozen limbs, and he took his first deep breath. During the time he’d waited, his anger had grown, and now he fairly pulsed with it.
He’d make Tabby sorry. The bitch would regret treating him like this. He’d see to it.
And there wasn’t a fucking thing her brother could do about it.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ALL DAY LONG, Vanity replayed the morning’s events in her mind.
I care about you. Her heart clenched, recalling those precious words from Stack. Oh, God, she loved him so much, and now he cared for her, too.
But did he care enough? What would he do when she told him everything?
Phil might’ve taken out a hit on Stack. She’d given Phil the money. Doubts, guilt, worry kept circling her brain until she did indeed feel sick. At Yvette’s shop she’d had too much time to think, and at the photo shoot she’d been distracted. Twice, the photographer had reminded her to smile.
Reluctantly, she decided she wouldn’t tell Stack about giving Phil money. Not yet. It would only exacerbate the animosity between Stack and Phil.
Instead, she put in a few calls and arranged for a private investigator to locate Phil. Jack Woolridge came highly recommended. He’d find out the truth for Vanity, and if it turned out that Phil had tried to hurt Stack, she’d hire the very best lawyers to see to it that he was punished.
There were times that having money was a huge benefit.
In the meantime, Stack had promised to show her how much he cared. Once he did, she could tell him how much she loved him. How she’d been in love with him for a while.
How she’d manipulated things to get his attention.
She’d confess everything, and hope he cared enough that it wouldn’t matter.
PHIL DIDN’T KNOW where to go or what to do, so he walked. Down the street, aimless, irate. A little scared.
Hands shoved in his pockets and shoulders hunched against the cold, he kept on plodding. He didn’t have a car or a phone, and he only had forty-two bucks in his pocket. It shocked him that Tabby would end it like that.
Pregnant. Jesus, he didn’t want a kid. Most of the time he hadn’t really wanted Tabby. Not anymore. But now...
She’d kicked him out.
That stung. Who the fuck did she think she was? He’d said all the wrong things, he knew that now. He should have demanded time to get his shit together. His clothes, his stash in the dresser drawer.
His gun.
And if demands hadn’t worked, he could have pleaded a little. She’d always been a sucker for his groveling. In the past, she’d forgiven him everything.
It was her asshole brother that had her being so unreasonable now. God, he hated Stack Hannigan and his holier-than-thou attitude. He wished he’d hired the guys to do more than slow Stack down. He wished he’d had them cut him a few times. Maybe that’d take the cockiness away.
But probably not. Everything was always so easy for Stack.
So what if Tabby funded Phil? They were married. That’s what married couples did. Hadn’t he stuck with her even though Stack despised him? And he hadn’t said shit when she moved in her mom.
He’d gotten her dogs, damn it. Hell of a gift. Now she’d thrown it all back in his face, making him leave with only the clothes on his back and his coat...
It suddenly occurred to him that he had his wallet. He yanked it out and saw the bank card. Oh, hell yeah.
Did they have any cash in the account?
Tabby had always done the banking and bill paying, but he assumed she had enough there to cover the rent and utilities.
Whatever the amount, it’d help.
With a new purpose, he quickened his step, and two blocks down he found a trio of teens hanging out. “Any of you got a phone I can use?”
They laughed. The tallest one said, “Fuck off, dude.”
Phil jutted his chin. “I’ll give you five bucks. A two-minute local call, that’s all I need.”
The kid eyed him. “Who you gonna call?”
“A friend. I just need to wrangle a ride, that’s all.”
After some more thought, the boy said, “Give me the money first.”
Phil pulled a five from his wallet and held it up. “Phone?”
The kid eyed him some more, and finally pulled a cell from his pocket.
As promised, Phil kept the call short and sweet. Soon as he finished the boy took his fin, and the group moseyed on. Twenty minutes after that, Whitney pulled up.
She grinned when she saw him huddled next to a tree, trying to avoid the wind. “Aw, poor baby. She kicked you out?”
Phil strode around the hood and got in. The heat of the car permeated his frozen limbs, and he took his first deep breath. During the time he’d waited, his anger had grown, and now he fairly pulsed with it.
He’d make Tabby sorry. The bitch would regret treating him like this. He’d see to it.
And there wasn’t a fucking thing her brother could do about it.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ALL DAY LONG, Vanity replayed the morning’s events in her mind.
I care about you. Her heart clenched, recalling those precious words from Stack. Oh, God, she loved him so much, and now he cared for her, too.
But did he care enough? What would he do when she told him everything?
Phil might’ve taken out a hit on Stack. She’d given Phil the money. Doubts, guilt, worry kept circling her brain until she did indeed feel sick. At Yvette’s shop she’d had too much time to think, and at the photo shoot she’d been distracted. Twice, the photographer had reminded her to smile.
Reluctantly, she decided she wouldn’t tell Stack about giving Phil money. Not yet. It would only exacerbate the animosity between Stack and Phil.
Instead, she put in a few calls and arranged for a private investigator to locate Phil. Jack Woolridge came highly recommended. He’d find out the truth for Vanity, and if it turned out that Phil had tried to hurt Stack, she’d hire the very best lawyers to see to it that he was punished.
There were times that having money was a huge benefit.
In the meantime, Stack had promised to show her how much he cared. Once he did, she could tell him how much she loved him. How she’d been in love with him for a while.
How she’d manipulated things to get his attention.
She’d confess everything, and hope he cared enough that it wouldn’t matter.
