Claiming the Enemy: Dustin (Porter Brothers Trilogy 3)

“Wonder why?”

“Don’t know. If you shut the fuck up, I can listen.”

Dustin broke three pencils while he waited for Greer to come back to the phone.

“They had a falling out over Kaley fooling around with The Last Riders,” Greer said when he came back to the phone.

“Has Jackson already given a DNA sample?”

“Yep.”

“It didn’t match the sample found on Jessie?” He didn’t think it had, or Knox would have brought Jackson in for questioning before now.

“Nope.”

“Do you happen to know where their kid is now?”

“I’d imagine in school.”

“Thanks. Text me when Knox is done with Jackson.”

“Will do. Make damn sure you don’t get caught. I ain’t paying for Diamond to get you out of a breaking and entering charge. I’ve bought that woman the last pair of shoes she’s getting from me.”

“I’m not a kid anymore. Don’t forget I’m the one who got you into Diane’s apartment.”

“Ain’t forgetting, just telling you to be careful. It takes one nosy neighbor to call it in to the police about someone snooping around, and the next judge you go in front of might not be so nice.”

“Sutton’s father was never nice,” Dustin countered.

“Nice-ish.”

Dustin disconnected the call. He was out of pencils.

Taking the file from his desk drawer, he locked his office, then walked down the steps, making his way out of the building. As he walked toward his car, he saw Shade sitting on his motorcycle.

Dustin spoke first when he was close enough. “Hey, Shade.”

“Dustin.”

His curiosity was aroused when Shade got off his bike and said, “Got a minute?”

“Several,” Dustin answered, opening his car door and putting the file inside. Then he closed the door before turning back to Shade.

“I heard that Frankfort identified the woman who was found.”

“Really? Who was it?” Dustin feigned surprise.

The cold Last Rider’s eyes turned glacial. “I’m trying to return a favor. Don’t waste my time. You know it was Miranda Scott.”

“You’re right. It’s old news to me.”

At his ready admission, Shade reached into his jacket pocket and took out an envelope. “Miranda’s son isn’t Jackson’s. He’s Charles Wells’.”

He didn’t have to feign his surprise this time when he opened the envelope, seeing the pictures of Charles and Miranda together.

“Just because they were together, that doesn’t necessarily mean he was the one who got her pregnant.”

Shade arched a mocking brow at him. “He’s Charles’. I don’t make mistakes.”

Dustin put the pictures back in the envelope. “Thanks. I appreciate the information.”

Shade lowered his sunglasses as he got back on his bike. “I didn’t do it for you.”

His curiosity was further aroused. “Then why did you?”

“Two reasons. One, to pay back the favor that Greer did for Penni. He still looks like shit, so I don’t want him wasting his energy to help you. Secondly, for Jessie. I’m giving you a head start. If I see you aren’t getting anywhere, then I’ll find the person who did it myself.”

“I wasn’t aware you’re friends with Jessie.” Dustin wasn’t embarrassed at the tinge of jealously that Shade could hear in his voice.

Shade’s expression remained the same impassive mask he always wore. “I’m not. I just don’t want the sick bastard who killed one woman and hurt Jessie anywhere near my wife. And until you find out who it is, neither Lily nor any other women in town are safe.”

“I see. I’ll tell Greer you repaid Penni’s favor.”

“Don’t bother. He’ll deny he did anything.”

Dustin laughed. “Don’t I know it? He’ll brag about how big of an asshole he is, but when he does something nice, he’d rather chop off his tongue than admit it.”

“If you find out who it was, and you need anything, let me know. I don’t mind getting my hands a little dirty, and none of the brothers would either.”

Shade started his motorcycle. Guessing the friendly rapport was over, that he had done what he set out to do, he drove off as Dustin was getting into his car.

Checking his cell phone, he saw that Greer hadn’t texted him while he was talking to Shade. He then drove to the neighborhood two blocks over from Miranda and Jackson’s home.

Opening the glovebox, he took out the pamphlets he had printed up for his accounting service. Making his way through the neighborhood, he went from door to door, tucking them under the doors or inside the screen doors. When he reached the block that the Scotts lived on, he paid attention to if TVs were playing inside, or if they had cameras on the outside.

Thankfully, Jackson’s house was at the end of the block, and he recognized the names on the neighbors’ mailboxes who hopefully were at work and not paying attention to the house he was stealthily sneaking behind.

Once he was out of sight, he took out the gloves he had in his suit pocket and jimmied up the window. Climbing inside the laundry room, he gave a quick scan as he made his way out. Seeing an open bedroom door, he walked inside.