Claiming the Enemy: Dustin (Porter Brothers Trilogy 3)

“The only person who could talk Charles into doing something he didn’t want to do is you. You’ve kept a tight fist on that chain you wrapped around his neck the moment he sprung from his mama’s womb. Don’t you think it’s time to let him wipe his own ass instead of you doing it for him?”

“You’re trash. I don’t know why I’m still talking to you. I’ve said my piece. Ignore it, and you’ll be sorry.”

Dustin got to his feet to follow Dixon Wells to his expensive car. “That sure is a pretty car. I bet that cost you a pretty penny.” He put his hands in his jacket pockets as he walked around the car.

Dixon ignored his movements, opening his car door.

Dustin paused at the bad bumper. “Damn, you get that scratch coming up the driveway?” He frowned laconically at the scratch.

Dixon left his car door open as he strode to the back of his car. “If there’s a scratch, you’re going to pay for it,” he threatened.

Dustin took a step back, letting the man examine his car.

“I want the money to get it fixed. If you had regular jobs, you could afford to get that driveway paved,” he blustered, standing upright again.

“Hey, I’d be glad to get it fixed for you. What mechanic shop do you like to use in town?”

Dixon gave him a withering glance. “I don’t take my car to a shop in town. I take it to the dealership in Lexington.”

“Damn.” Dustin scratched the side of his head, moving to block Dixon from getting in the car. “You just took it to Lexington a few weeks ago to get new tires, and now you’re going to have to make the four-hour drive just because of a scratch?”

Dixon walked toward him from the back of the car. “Move. I need to get back to work.”

“Sorry,” Dustin apologized, still not moving. “Here I am, keeping you from your respectable job, shooting the shit. If I were as busy as you, I damn sure wouldn’t be taking the time to make a four-hour drive just to switch the tires out when they were less than four months old.”

Dustin noticed the wariness enter Dixon’s eyes.

“How’d you know I went to Lexington to get a new set of tires?”

“You know the best part of being an accountant? I can tell how sons of bitches like you operate. By the way, I could have saved you the forty thousand if you had hired me. You should fire Day and start a new day.” Dustin winced at his own joke. Maybe Jessie was right. He did tell lousy jokes.

“Those are confidential records.”

“Are they? Did I say I saw them? It was a guesstimate.”

“Move.”

“What’s your hurry, Dixon? Oh, that’s right. You’re busy with that restaurant of yours. Just tell me before you go … Why’d you kill that poor woman?”

Dixon’s face turned red with fury as the man grabbed him by the front of his jacket to try to move him away from the door so he could get inside.

Dustin put his hand on the open door, refusing to be budged.

“I didn’t kill Miranda.”

“Bullshit. You killed her and tried to kill Jessie. What I want to know is: Why?”

“I didn’t—”

“My son can lie better than you can. Greer works for the sheriff’s office. I saw the pictures and castings of the tire tracks that Knox made of the car that dumped Miranda out in that cow pasture. You left her to fucking rot on cow shit, you sorry excuse for a man. You also left tire tracks where you threw Jessie off that mountain. All I had to do was fucking call the dealership and buy the used tires you were stupid enough to let them keep. They faxed me a picture of them. It was a fucking match, so don’t fucking stand there and keep lying to me that you didn’t do it when I know you did.”

“How much do you want?”

Dustin had never wanted to kill a man more than he did at that moment. “Tell me why, and I’ll give you my price.”

“Miranda came to my home to see me and my wife. The slut wanted us to know that that son of hers she had been passing off as Jackson’s was Charles’. She wanted us to know we had a grandchild, and she was going to divorce Jackson. She was going to tell Jackson that she was leaving him for Charles, and that bastard of hers was his. We got in an argument, and then she left, so I went after her. I couldn’t have that. No, I couldn’t. I couldn’t have her drag my name through the mud like that, could I? I have a reputation to uphold, and she was going to smear it with the gossip that she was going to spread about my son. Do you think the elders would have let me stay on, knowing how hurt Jackson would be having to see anyone connected to Charles?”