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He shouldn’t be here and everything inside him screams it as a fact, but with so much uncertainty surrounding him, what else is there to do? He’s been here since six p.m. His phone was blowing up with notifications and requests for last minute meetings that he’s had to respectfully decline. To avoid another influx of texts and emails, he told Melissa he was having stomach troubles and to set meetings up for another date. That was several hours ago. It’s nearing midnight now, and Shavonne is nowhere to be found. He’s becoming antsy.
Dominic has spent so much time thinking about the bloody purse, and after that call with Boaz in the hotel, he realizes it all comes down to Shavonne Peters. She wants to play games? Well, he can play them too. Normally, he’s not keen on showing his face with matters like this. It would’ve been smarter to have Boaz confront her, speak to her, but Boaz clearly messed up once. This time, he’ll make sure there’s an end.
Truth is, he’s come here tonight to scare Shavonne, get her to leave him alone and go back to where she came from. All she has are notes and photos. Nothing concrete. And when it comes to that photo of him choking Jolene, he knows his wife will cover for him over a stranger. Boaz is right about the purse. It could be a dupe—a small detail Shavonne remembers from the last time she saw Brynn.
He checks the time on the dashboard. 11:48 p.m. He fidgets in his seat as he watches one of the room doors open and a couple walk out. The woman clings to the man with a giggle. Dominic rolls his eyes, the thought of love and couples making him sick. He picks up his phone, swipes to his messages, and opens one from a girl named Jessica who works at Jolene’s stupid tea shop.
Jessica didn’t provide a written text, but she did send an image. One of Samuel Sanchez coming down the set of stairs that lead to Jolene’s office at the tea boutique. The sight of it causes him to clench his fists again, just like he did the first time he saw it. He knows what Samuel is trying to do—he wants to get him where he’s weakest. He thinks by having his wife, that it’ll make him fold. He’s wrong. He’s faced much worse.
Dominic found out Samuel had a thing for Jolene during a charity ball. He asked her to dance, had his hands too low on her hips, and Dominic interrupted and kindly whispered for him to back off of his wife. It made him look bad in public, like he had no control. He was sure Sanchez wanted it to appear that way. He’s been after his governor’s seat for some time now.
Two weeks after the ball, he found out Sanchez had visited Jolene’s tea shop (Jolene had mentioned it over dinner one night, so happy to have had the lieutenant governor pay her a visit) and Dominic had taken it upon himself to speak to one of Jolene’s employees when she wasn’t there.
He wanted to stay ahead, be in the loop, so he chose the employee with the worst track record and said he’d pay her if she kept him updated on Jolene and any important people who showed up. Jessica was a former criminal, selling drugs for her ex, in and out of jail for little crimes like vandalism and assault. He knew for a fact Jolene hired her because she loved trying to change people’s lives. She loved giving them a raft and hoping they’ll resurface a better human. He knows because it was like that for him when they met. She pitied Dominic and his tragic childhood. She wanted to give him a better life, new meaning, and it worked . . . for a while anyway.
Dominic is aware that Sanchez is ahead in his role. He’ll likely win lieutenant governor again and Dominic will blindly back him because it’s better to have two of the same party members as heads of the state than an opposing party member.
He can’t help wondering what the hell Sanchez wanted with Jolene today though. The image shows him leaving the top floor of Jolene’s shop with a glint in his eyes, a subtle smile, and behind him, cut short at the corner, is Jo. She’s watching him go while chewing on her thumbnail, a habit she only does when she’s nervous.
Someone knocks hard on Dominic’s window and, startled, he drops the phone, and it lands on the car floor. His gaze swings left, and he can’t believe who he sees.
THIRTY-FOUR
DOMINIC
“Why are you watching me?” Shavonne’s voice is muted by the window. A deep grimace is on her face, and she’s in casual attire—none of that witchy stuff he’s seen her in. Jeans and a graphic T-shirt with Aaliyah on it, along with a black cardigan. Even her hair has changed. No streaks of gray, just all black and pulled into a ponytail. Not a stroke of makeup is on her face. For a split second, he thinks he imagined her as a witch. It wouldn’t be far off, considering the recent hallucinations.
Dominic shuts the engine of the car off and Shavonne steps back, folding her arms over her chest as Dominic climbs out.
“I should be asking you that question,” he counters when the car door is shut behind him.
Shavonne scoffs. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I know it’s you leaving notes for me to find. The dead bird in my trunk. Attempting to break into my house. You’re trying to ruin my life. Why?”
She doesn’t react to his accusations. Her face remains neutral, minus her brows that shift down deeper. “You mean to tell me it’s okay for you to ruin someone’s life, but not for someone to ruin yours?”
“So, you admit it,” he counters, and he curses himself for not having his phone to record this conversation.
Shavonne steps closer, eyeing him. “You think I don’t see through this whole governor façade of yours, but I do, Baker. I see right through you, and you’re made of pure glass. One tap and you’ll break.”
“Why are you trying to sabotage me? I did nothing to you,” he retorts.
“The same way you didn’t do anything to Brynn?”
Hearing the name fall from her lips sends him into a cold shock. The ice runs through his veins, paralyzing him where he stands. All he can do is stare at Shavonne as her lips deviously curl to a smile.
“Where is she? Tell me. Is she still alive?” he demands.
She leans toward him and whispers, “Just know you won’t get away with what you did.”
Those words bring him back to life, back to the moment. He can make this stop. He can get her to go away. “What is it that you want? Huh? Money? Is that it?”
Shavonne bubbles out another scoff while narrowing her eyes at him. “If I wanted money, I wouldn’t be handling it this way.”
“Name your price,” he continues as she starts to walk off. “How much do you want? However much it is, I can get it. I have ways.”
Shavonne peers over her shoulder. She drops her folded arms to face him again, looking deep into his eyes. “Look at you. So eager to use your wife’s money to cover your sorry ass.”
