Page 122 of Dominion
The burner phone he’d bought her rang.
“I forwarded the calls from my old phone to this number,” she explained as she picked it up. “This is Melissa.” The blood drained from her face. “I don’t know where he is,” she croaked into the phone.
He rushed to her side and put his ear next to hers.
“You tell him Junior Rabago is looking for him, and I want my money back. He has until Friday to produce it.”
“How much money does he owe you?”
“Fourteen grand, plus interest. I need it paid in full or you and your boy both die. Don’t think I can’t find you.” He hung up.
Melissa drew a long, shaky breath. “Well… at least I know how to get a hold of him now, if we do use Ben’s money to pay him off.”
“We’re paying him off. The sooner the better. We need to get this guy off your back and out of your life.”
“Do you think it will get him off Jeremy’s back too?”
He glowered, hating that she mentioned the asshole. “Only if he’s part of the delivery,” he opined.
Her hand shook as she looked at the phone in her hand. “I talked to Ashley today and Ben said he could have the money transferred straight to your account, if you give him the routing and account number.”
“I’ll text it now.” He moved away from her, no longer able to stay so close without shoving her onto her back and having his way with her.
She returned her focus to the Chromebook and her brow furrowed. “Oh, no!” she exclaimed, smacking her forehead. She tossed the Chromebook down on the sofa and jumped to her feet. “Oh crap, oh shit, crap shit crap!” She paced a rapid circle around his living room, shaking her fists in various directions.
“What? What is it?”
She whirled on him. “I forgot my little’s birthday.”
He stared at her. What in the hell was she freaking out about? “Your what?”
“My little. I’m in the Big Brothers, Big Sisters program. I was supposed to have a date with my little to celebrate her birthday last night. With everything that’s going on, I totally forgot. She probably tried to call my phone but of course I don’t have it—it’s probably dead by now. I feel like such a schmuck.”
He stared at her, surprised at how much she seemed to care about this. She’d just taken a phone call from a guy who’d threatened to kill her without freaking out, andnowshe was upset? Over a missed date with a charity case? Was the woman he’d pegged as superficial, if not selfish, actually this upset about an underprivileged kid? Just the fact that she participated in the program shocked the hell out of him.
“So tell her you’ll make it up to her.”
To his alarm, her big blue eyes swam with tears. “You don’t understand. This is a totally underprivileged kid. Her mom’s a stripper crack whore who barely keeps a roof over her head. She’s probably never had a decent birthday in her life. I’d bought her a great gift and I—” She stopped, her chin wobbling.
“Baby.” The need to comfort her made him want to howl. He wasn’t any good at soothing women—he sorely lacked practice—but he sure as hell had to try. Tucking her against his side, he rubbed circles over her lower back. “Beautiful girl, don’t cry. We’ll go over there right now and explain. Well, we can’t explain about people wanting you dead, but we’ll tell her you had an emergency.”
“But her gift,” she moaned. “It’s at my place.”
“We’ll get her a present on the way and you can tell her you have something else for her later. She’ll get two birthdays. What kid wouldn’t love that?”
Melissa sniffed. “You don’t mind taking me there now?”
He cupped her chin and lifted her tearstained face. The sight of the moisture still tracking down her cheeks was unacceptable. He wanted to crush anything and everything that had ever made her cry. It unnerved him how much power her tears commanded over him. “As long as you stop crying,” he muttered.
She gave a half-sob, half-laugh and shoved him away, dashing at the tears with the back of her hand.
They drove to Dairy Queen and picked up an Oreo ice cream cake, decorated with her little’s name—Margot—because Melissa said she probably didn’t get much with her name on it. With the cake on her lap and a Target gift card stuffed in her purse, Melissa sat rigidly beside him, shoulders square and stiff.
“How long have you been her big sister?” He wanted to know more about this side of Melissa. This unexpected and generous side.
“Not long.” She raked her teeth across her lower lip. “Six months. It’s a project of Brown Realty. I didn’t want to do it at first.”
“Why not?” He expected her to say what a pain it was or to enumerate the problems with the program, but she stared out the window, still worrying her lip between her teeth.