Page 65 of Tone Deaf

I turn my attention to the window while swallowing down the boulder-size lump in my throat.

“I can’t lose them, Fig,” I profess in a whisper.

It’s the truth. I don’t know if I can survive without them.

“You won’t.” His steely confidence bolsters my determination to stay hopeful.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Dom

Hanging up on Pen might not have been a smart move, but there’s no way I’m having him come with me and be in the line of Rick’s fire. That bastard has nothing to lose and will shoot Pen dead without thinking.

With Callum in Rick’s hands, he would then hold all of the cards. Callum’s life is on the line. Adding Pen into the mix would only rile Rick up and make the situation worse.

My mind races at how to approach Rick. How to enter the trailer park where all this began, without being seen. How much I’m going to enjoy wrapping my hands around the fucker’s neck for taking what’s mine.

“Jesus, Callum.” I rub the back of my neck in frustration.

Exhausted and anxious for the jet to hit the tarmac, I scroll through my texts and see the number Rick first texted me from.

I still don’t know how he fooled me. Rick made it appear that he had turned into a drunk and a junky. There were so many empty bottles and cans lying all around his apartment. Then there were the burned tin foils, spoons and discarded needles onthe table. Visually, it was easy for me to believe he was an addict. Wait—was that even his apartment?

And that person that supposedly attacked him? Suddenly, I remember Rick’s clean fingernails…

Everything was a fucking lie.Christ, I’m such a gullible idiot.

My eyes study the number until my finger, almost of its own volition, taps the call button.

I suck in a breath as the phone rings. Then the call hits dead air. I don’t say anything, just listen for a beat.

“I knew you’d call me,” Rick eventually says with an insidious chuckle.

“Why are you doing this, Rick?” I try to keep my voice even, but my rage is seeping through my words.

“Why do you think?” The incredulousness in his voice has my hackles up.

“I don’t know, I can’t read your fucking mind,” I bite out. I’m not playing games with him anymore.

More chuckling from the other end. Then I hear a whimper.Callum.

“If you hurt one hair on that man’s head, I swear there’s nowhere you can hide,” I growl in warning.

“How sweet. You see, Dom. You should have died with Jacob like you were supposed to.”

“Like I was supposed to?” I repeat in confusion. Thinking back to that night, it was a scramble—trying to get Jacob out of that trailer as the bullets were turning the mobile home into Swiss cheese. But we only had seconds before the killers made their way inside and shot Jacob.

“I took the bullet that was meant for you,” he rants. “And now look at me. No wife or son. No career. No connection to her family.”

What the hell is he talking about? What’s this got to do withherfamily?

“We were lucky to be alive, Rick.” I try to target his sensible side, hoping he’ll see reason. “And Callum isn’t involved in this. Never was. Let him go.”

But he refuses to listen.

“Do you understand that you don’t deserve to live, Dom? That killing you isn’t enough? I have to take whatyoulove the most. Only then will you have an inkling of my pain.”

“What about those feds you killed?” My gut instinct is telling me that Rick is also behind the murders I learned about in Joust’s office. But why?