Page 13 of The Murder Club

“Don’t give me that garbage,” Gage snarled. “You and that weasel of a lawyer have obviously been plotting this since I put my mother in that home.”

“I took care of your mom because it was my job and because I loved her.” There was a throb in Bailey’s voice that revealed she was mourning the older woman. Unlike her son, who appeared more concerned with the money Bailey was given in the will than the passing of his mother. “She was a wonderful woman.”

“A wonderful rich woman. It was bad enough that her emerald ring went missing. Now this.”

“What are you talking about? What emerald ring?” Bailey demanded.

“The one my father bought her on their thirtieth wedding anniversary. I went through her things to get . . .” Gage flushed, as if revealing more than he’d intended. “It wasn’t there.”

“I don’t know anything about an emerald ring.”

“Right. Just like you didn’t manipulate her into getting into her will. Don’t think you’re going to get away with this,” Gage blustered. “I’ve already been to the sheriff’s office. And I don’t care if Zac is your cousin, he’s not going to be able to save your ass. If he won’t investigate this as a murder, I’ll go over his head.” Without warning, Gage shoved his way past Dom, headed directly toward Bailey. “That money belongs to me and I’ll see you in hell before you get your—”

Dom didn’t hesitate. He’d survived the streets of Los Angeles when he was a teenager. He understood how to deal with a bully. You immediately proved that you were stronger, tougher, and willing to use whatever level of violence was necessary to stop the abuse.

Dom towered over the male, giving him one last chance to back off. “Touch her and I’ll break every bone in your body.”

The idiot glared at him, his eyes narrowed. “I told you to stay out of this.”

Okay. He’d warned him. Striking too fast for the man to react, Dom grasped Gabe by the throat and, with casual ease, dragged him across the road to slam him against the side of the van.

Gage grunted as the air was knocked from his lungs, his eyes suddenly wide as he belatedly realized his danger. With a cold smile, Dom leaned forward until they were nose to nose, his fingers digging into the spongy flesh.

“You might be the tough guy who gets to terrorize the locals, Gage,” he said, his voice soft. “But you don’t scare me. You come near Bailey or try to contact her again, I will make you understand the meaning of regret. Got it?”

Gage grunted something that Dom couldn’t catch, but it didn’t matter. He could see the fear in the man’s eyes. He wasn’t used to anyone standing up to him. It was going to take a couple of days and probably a bottle of booze to regain his false sense of bravado.

Slowly unlocking his fingers from the man’s throat, Dom stepped back and folded his arms over his chest. In silence, he watched as Gage inched along the van, keeping a wary eye on him before he jumped inside and squealed away.

Dom watched the van until it turned at the next corner and disappeared. Only then did he walk back to study Bailey’s pale face.

“What did you say to him?” she demanded.

“I gave him the same advice my mother used to give me.”

“What’s that?”

“If you don’t have something nice to say, then don’t say anything.”

Her lips tightened until they were white with tension. “Gage has never kept his mouth shut. It boggles my mind that he could be related to sweet Nellie.”

“Nellie is the woman he’s accusing you of killing?”

She abruptly turned away. “I need to get home.”

Dom reached out to touch her arm. He hadn’t meant to spook her. “I’ll drive you.”

“That’s not necessary.” Her back was rigid, her head turned away as she started walking. “It’s just down the street.”

Dom used his long strides to easily catch up to her. “I’ll go with you.”

She glanced over her shoulder, as if checking to make sure Gage wasn’t lurking in his white van.

“Okay.”

Sensing she was in no mood for small talk, Dom took in his surroundings as they quickly made their way down the crumbling sidewalk. The houses that lined the block were small and faded, like the wilted flowers in the clay pots on the porches. A couple looked abandoned, with plyboard over the windows and “For Sale” signs in the overgrown yards.

It wasn’t the nicest neighborhood, but in such a small town he doubted Bailey had to worry about crime.