Claiming the Enemy: Dustin (Porter Brothers Trilogy 3)

“What’s he saying?” Bubba asked.

“I’ll tell you later.” Holt shoved the dirty dishes away from him. Then he lowered his voice so no one other than the ones sitting at the table could hear. “Pa’s been dead for three years. If you were so hot-fire in love with her, you could have—”

“What could I have done, Holt? Taken on all the Hayes’ clan? To tell you the truth, anyone who was mean enough to threaten their own daughter or sister wasn’t one I was sure I wanted to subject my son to in case it didn’t work out between me and Jessie. Every time I thought about asking Jessie out, one of you would do something that would have me doubting my sanity as to why I would want to.”

All four men stared at each other, remembering the numerous fights between Asher and Greer, and Holt and Tate. Dustin didn’t even bother bringing up the incident with Logan and Asher not going to the police. He didn’t have to; he could see it on their expressions.

“If you hate us so much, then why are you hellfire determined to wiggle back into Jessie’s life again?”

Dustin answered Asher’s question the only way he could—with the truth, or as much as he was willing to share with the three men.

“Because I’m finally in a place where I don’t give a fuck about what you want. If you want to kill me because I’m in a relationship with Jessie, you’re more than willing to try. I’m not a nine-year-old boy anymore. You, Asher, or any of your clan tries to come after me, come on. I’ll take on every fucking one of you. My biggest fear isn’t for myself—it never was—it’s for Jessie. And the one thing I did find out when she was kidnapped is, every single one of you fuckers would die before you’d hurt that girl.”

The men didn’t say anything. Finally, it was Holt who broke the silence by catching the waitress as she was about to go by. “Bring us some coffee.”

The waitress took the dirty dishes as she walked away to get the coffee. The lunch rush was over, and they were the only ones still sitting at a table.

“Why were you eating lunch with Shelly?”

Holt’s question wasn’t snide. It only held curiosity and a deep weariness within his soul about a past that couldn’t be changed.

“Shelly works for Day’s Financial.” Dustin talked lower. The restaurant was empty, but Carly was behind the counter, and he didn’t want her to gossip about what they were about to discuss.

“What’d he say?” Bubba asked Asher loudly.

“Switch chairs with me, Asher.”

“Why?” Asher gave him a quizzical look.

“So Bubba can hear what I’m saying.” Being mindful that Bubba’s hearing problem was a closely guarded secret, Dustin wanted to ram his head into the tabletop when Bubba scooted his chair closer to his.

“What’d he say?”

Asher switched chairs with him.

“I was saying—” Dustin broke off as Bubba switched trajectories, scooting his chair closer to him again. “I was saying that Shelly works for Day’s Financial Services.”

The men stared at him, not comprehending.

“Jackson and Miranda Scott are Day’s clients.”

“Ah ….” Bubba finally got the gist.

Asher waited until the waitress left after bringing their coffees before resuming the conversation. “Why does that matter?”

“Because I’m a damn good accountant, that’s why. You know the best part about having access to people’s finances?”

“So you’ll know how much money you can steal from them?” Asher wisecracked.

Dustin’s lips tightened into a thin line. “No, not to steal. Why go to jail when they’ll pay me to keep their asses out of trouble with the IRS? Do you want to know the most interesting thing about doing people’s taxes?”

“No. What?” Asher’s interest was finally caught.

“You find out a shit-ton of things about them. The businesses that hire me, I can tell you how many times a month they buy toilet paper and how much. Or if someone’s cheating on their wives or husbands by buying things coming across their joint accounts. Dumbasses even try to write it off as a business expense. If I have access to a couple’s financials, I can tell if they’re in over their heads in debt, or if they have enough money to go to dinner a couple times a month.”

“I’m glad I don’t pay taxes.” Bubba snorted in disgust.

Dustin’s mouth hung open at the revelation. “I thought you work at the bread store?”

“I do. So what?”

“Eugene pays you, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you pay taxes, don’t you?”

“No.”

“Then he pays you in cash?”

“No, he gives me a paycheck every Friday.”

“Then you pay taxes.”

“No.”

Trying to talk to a Hayes was like someone pulling a hair out of his head one at a time.

“Bubba ….” Dustin took a deep breath to control his temper.

“Yeah?”

“There’s no way you could have worked for Eugene as long as I know you have and not have gotten in trouble with the IRS for not paying taxes.”