“It is,” he echoes, though he doesn’t sound completely convinced.
“Braden?”
He sighs. “The story’s not over, Skye.”
I swallow. “All right. Go on.”
…
The day after Braden called the police, he got a visit from Addison’s father, Brock Ames. Instead of Addie waiting by his pickup after work, Brock stood there, dressed to the nines in a tailored gray pinstripe and smoking a pipe. Braden inhaled the cherry bark fragrance. Nice, but smoking wasn’t something he’d ever do.
“Mr. Black.” Brock emptied the ashes from his pipe onto the ground and held out his hand. “I’m Brock Ames.”
“I know who you are,” Braden said.
“Then I suppose you know why I’m here.”
“Can’t say I do.”
“I’d like you to drop the charges against my daughter.”
“Mr. Ames, your daughter has been stalking me. She shows up here by my truck after work, not unlike you did today. She shows up at my home. She calls me at all hours of the day and night. It needs to stop.”
“I don’t think formal charges are the answer.”
“Really? What is the answer, then?”
“Drop the charges, and I’ll make it worth your while.”
“What are you going to do? Ship her off to Europe or something? She’s eighteen. She’s an adult.”
“In the eyes of the law, yes, but she’s still a very young girl.”
Braden met Brock’s gaze. How did one tell a father what his daughter was capable of? “Don’t try to tell me she doesn’t know what she’s doing. She knows exactly what she’s doing.”
“What if I told you”—Brock cleared his throat—“that I’d have you arrested for sexual assault.”
“I’d tell you to fuck off.” Braden hadn’t assaulted Addie. Everything was consensual. Despite his words, though, his nerves skittered. Brock Ames was a powerful man.
“Addie will testify that you assaulted her, and she lost consciousness,” Brock continued.
Braden’s fingers curled into fists. “That never happened.”
“Do you think that matters?”
Chills swept over the back of Braden’s neck. “You fucking bastard…”
“Easy, Mr. Black. I can see you’re an intelligent man.”
“We went to the ER. She corroborated what I told the doctor.”
“And she can easily say you coerced her into her corroboration.”
“So you’re saying you’ll blackmail me if I don’t drop the stalking charges? Is that what this is about?”
“Blackmail is such a negative term,” he said, grinding his pipe ashes into the blacktop with his Italian leather-clad foot. “I prefer to think of this as two people making a deal.”
“A deal where you have all the leverage,” Braden said through clenched teeth.
“You may find it interesting to know that Addie thinks she’s in love with you. She doesn’t want to make any assault claims.”
“Then why are we having this conversation?”
“Because she will make the claim…if I threaten to cut her off.”
Money. Rage gripped Braden. It all came down to money. If he ever had money in his life, he would never use it to control others.
Fucking never.
“So we’re back to blackmail, then,” Braden said.
“Not necessarily. We’re back to the drawing board where we’ll make our deal.”
…
“How did you not punch his lights out?” I ask.
“Trust me. It was difficult,” he says, “but that would have only made things worse.”
“I never found any record of any charges against you or against Addie.”
“When you were nosing around,” he says.
“Well…yeah. You know I was curious. But I haven’t looked recently, Braden. Believe me. I made a decision to respect your right to tell me in your own time.”
“I know.” He smiles.
God, how I love that smile. He seems to smile more lately, now that the understanding between us has increased.
“So what ultimately happened?”
“We struck a deal,” he says. “A deal that changed my life.”
Chapter Fifty-One
“Have you ever seen The Godfather?” Brock asked.
Braden shook his head. They never had cable TV growing up, and now he didn’t have time to watch TV or stream movies. He was either working or sleeping.
“Too bad,” Brock said.
“Why?”
“Because I’m about to make you an offer you can’t refuse.”
Braden didn’t respond. He simply lifted his eyebrows, waiting.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Brock said. “You’re going to drop the charges against my daughter and agree to never speak about what happened between the two of you again.”
“And she’ll stop stalking me?”
“She’ll attempt to stop.”
Braden shook his head. “No deal.”
“I know my daughter. She’s just throwing a tantrum. She’s not getting what she wants. It’s her way.”
“Her way? I’m supposed to put up with her little fits?”
Brock cleared his throat. “In return, I’ll finance your move to another place. She won’t be able to find you.”
“I have to leave Boston?”
“Yeah. But you can find work in construction anywhere.”
“Maybe I don’t want to leave Boston. My father and brother are here.”
“So? I’ve done some research, Mr. Black. There’s no love lost between you and your father. And your mother… Well, she’s no longer an issue, is she?”
Rage, again. Reddish-purple rage. How dare this motherfucker speak about his family? About his mother?