“So that much is probably true. Now here’s where it gets complicated.”
Because it wasn’t complicated enough already?
“I’m thinking Whitney told Phil to go to the apartment to get what he wanted. Then she tipped off Hannigan, making out like she was the good guy in all this. But really she just wanted them both there at the same time. See, she also sent two more thugs, and they were supposed to work him over good this time.”
The thought of Stack being set up, ambushed, made her stomach churn. “Why would she do that?”
With a shrug in his tone, Jack said, “Heard her tell Phil that he’d caused the conflict between her and Hannigan, so now he could be the solution. When the men attacked, Phil would get the blame, and she’d get to console Hannigan.”
Things started to click into place, but it all still seemed very far-fetched. “So let me get this straight. Whitney convinced Phil to go to the apartment, then told Stack he’d be there, and then hired thugs to go after Stack, assuming he’d think Phil had hired them.” That bitch. “She wants Stack to think she’s confiding in him, trying to protect him, so they can get closer.”
“She told Phil she wasn’t done with Hannigan, so, yeah, that’s how it sounds. While Hannigan healed up from his beating, she’d be there to coddle him.”
“I think I’m going to puke.”
Jack laughed. “Yeah, she’s twisted. And that’s why I’m calling. See, Whitney suggested to Phil that he might want to leave town. She doesn’t want him around muddying up her plans by telling the truth to anyone. Phil threatened to go straight to the cops instead...and she told him he’d be next on the hit list if he did.”
So many incredible threats. Vanity didn’t know what to say, what to do. Her thoughts scrambled.
“After Phil charged off,” Jack continued, “I decided he was the lesser of the threats, and I stuck with the lady.”
“Thank you, Jack. Very smart thinking.”
Jack cleared his throat. “I didn’t know if you wanted me involving the cops or not, but Whitney made a call, told someone to go after Hannigan one more time.”
Oh, no! “When?”
“Tonight I think, but I don’t know where. What do you want me to do? Keep tailing her? Call in the police?”
“Tail her, yes. Let me talk to Stack, and then I’ll call you back. Until then, don’t let her out of your sight!”
“Got it covered.”
Vanity disconnected the phone and immediately dialed Stack. He was probably still at the rec center, could still be working out. She hated to interrupt, but she had to get his input, and she had to warn him.
What if he was so mad, he ignored her call? If he did, she’d call Armie. Or Cannon.
Or...she still had the second phone for emergencies. If she had to, she’d use the blasted bat signal. “Vanity?”
Relief robbed her of strength. He hadn’t ignored her call. That had to mean something, right?
Her relief was short-lived, because almost at the same time Stack answered, the shop door swung open, and Phil, haggard and breathing hard, stood there staring at her. Hatred and desperation darkened his eyes.
Vanity went temporarily blank.
“Vanity?” Stack said again, now with more insistence.
Oh, no, no, no. Phil looked unhinged. This wasn’t a pot high, and this wasn’t everyday anger. Alarm kicked her heartbeat into high gear.
Phil had a hand in his pocket...to conceal a weapon? If she told Stack he was here, would Phil lash out? With no time to waste, she settled on what to do, and prayed it was the right decision.
To keep Phil from catching on, she tried to sound pleasant instead of alarmed as she said to Stack, “Hang on, please,” and laid the phone on the counter. Hopefully Phil would assume she’d put a customer on hold. If Stack could hear her talking, he’d understand, so she said louder than necessary, “Phil. What are you doing here?”
* * *
WITH STACK’S KNUCKLES BRUISED, Cannon, Denver, Armie, Miles and Brand had all ganged up on him, refusing to let him hit the heavy bag. So he’d practiced kicks on it instead. Endlessly. Until sweat had soaked his body and his thighs felt like noodles.
Hadn’t helped, so he’d gone for a jog. Hours long. He’d pounded the pavement until he couldn’t breathe, and still a wild, turbulent mix of emotions left him unsettled.
No matter how he tried, he couldn’t get Vanity off his mind.
It didn’t help that everyone was so pissed. At him.
Because it wasn’t complicated enough already?
“I’m thinking Whitney told Phil to go to the apartment to get what he wanted. Then she tipped off Hannigan, making out like she was the good guy in all this. But really she just wanted them both there at the same time. See, she also sent two more thugs, and they were supposed to work him over good this time.”
The thought of Stack being set up, ambushed, made her stomach churn. “Why would she do that?”
With a shrug in his tone, Jack said, “Heard her tell Phil that he’d caused the conflict between her and Hannigan, so now he could be the solution. When the men attacked, Phil would get the blame, and she’d get to console Hannigan.”
Things started to click into place, but it all still seemed very far-fetched. “So let me get this straight. Whitney convinced Phil to go to the apartment, then told Stack he’d be there, and then hired thugs to go after Stack, assuming he’d think Phil had hired them.” That bitch. “She wants Stack to think she’s confiding in him, trying to protect him, so they can get closer.”
“She told Phil she wasn’t done with Hannigan, so, yeah, that’s how it sounds. While Hannigan healed up from his beating, she’d be there to coddle him.”
“I think I’m going to puke.”
Jack laughed. “Yeah, she’s twisted. And that’s why I’m calling. See, Whitney suggested to Phil that he might want to leave town. She doesn’t want him around muddying up her plans by telling the truth to anyone. Phil threatened to go straight to the cops instead...and she told him he’d be next on the hit list if he did.”
So many incredible threats. Vanity didn’t know what to say, what to do. Her thoughts scrambled.
“After Phil charged off,” Jack continued, “I decided he was the lesser of the threats, and I stuck with the lady.”
“Thank you, Jack. Very smart thinking.”
Jack cleared his throat. “I didn’t know if you wanted me involving the cops or not, but Whitney made a call, told someone to go after Hannigan one more time.”
Oh, no! “When?”
“Tonight I think, but I don’t know where. What do you want me to do? Keep tailing her? Call in the police?”
“Tail her, yes. Let me talk to Stack, and then I’ll call you back. Until then, don’t let her out of your sight!”
“Got it covered.”
Vanity disconnected the phone and immediately dialed Stack. He was probably still at the rec center, could still be working out. She hated to interrupt, but she had to get his input, and she had to warn him.
What if he was so mad, he ignored her call? If he did, she’d call Armie. Or Cannon.
Or...she still had the second phone for emergencies. If she had to, she’d use the blasted bat signal. “Vanity?”
Relief robbed her of strength. He hadn’t ignored her call. That had to mean something, right?
Her relief was short-lived, because almost at the same time Stack answered, the shop door swung open, and Phil, haggard and breathing hard, stood there staring at her. Hatred and desperation darkened his eyes.
Vanity went temporarily blank.
“Vanity?” Stack said again, now with more insistence.
Oh, no, no, no. Phil looked unhinged. This wasn’t a pot high, and this wasn’t everyday anger. Alarm kicked her heartbeat into high gear.
Phil had a hand in his pocket...to conceal a weapon? If she told Stack he was here, would Phil lash out? With no time to waste, she settled on what to do, and prayed it was the right decision.
To keep Phil from catching on, she tried to sound pleasant instead of alarmed as she said to Stack, “Hang on, please,” and laid the phone on the counter. Hopefully Phil would assume she’d put a customer on hold. If Stack could hear her talking, he’d understand, so she said louder than necessary, “Phil. What are you doing here?”
* * *
WITH STACK’S KNUCKLES BRUISED, Cannon, Denver, Armie, Miles and Brand had all ganged up on him, refusing to let him hit the heavy bag. So he’d practiced kicks on it instead. Endlessly. Until sweat had soaked his body and his thighs felt like noodles.
Hadn’t helped, so he’d gone for a jog. Hours long. He’d pounded the pavement until he couldn’t breathe, and still a wild, turbulent mix of emotions left him unsettled.
No matter how he tried, he couldn’t get Vanity off his mind.
It didn’t help that everyone was so pissed. At him.
