AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I swallowed hard, chopping vegetables, my focus on the silver blade of the knife. I wish I’d had the knife when he walked by. I would’ve stabbed him right in the chest with it, twisted the knife, and smiled on my way to prison.
Trent made his way back, checking things off his clipboard while Victor washed dishes. Sous Chef Eric was behind the stove, seasoning a slab of meat.
Something in the corner caught my eye and I looked up at the TV. A woman was on screen, speaking to someone I knew. I stopped chopping the veggies and felt a tight squeeze in my chest when I saw Dominic Baker on the screen and on the blue bar beneath him in bold font were the words FIRST BLACK GOVERNOR OF NORTH CAROLINA SPEAKS ABOUT EXPERIENCE.
It was a popular news channel—a nationwide one, in fact. And he was on it. The TV was muted, however I didn’t have to hear him speaking to know every word coming out of his mouth was utter bullshit. I stood behind the counter, knife gripped in hand, staring at his arrogant face on the screen and that deceivingly charming smile. The screen switched to reveal a carousel of images of him standing with citizens, children, and even shaking hands with the Obamas. Being around the Obamas was impressive, I had to admit, but what caught my attention most was the image of him and his wife. It was one of the pictures in his phone, the one his wife said was her favorite.
Did his wife know that he was a lying, backstabbing piece of shit? Did she know that he was abusive and okay with murdering someone just to cover his own ass?
It occurred to me then, right in Franco’s kitchen, that Dominic tried getting me to sign that NDA because he was running for this role as governor. He’d conned me into thinking we had a chance, when really he was using me to get whatever he needed from that man John. He’d practically spat in my face, and now he was making national headlines and smiling proudly, as if he were a saint. As if he hadn’t had his ex-girlfriend raped and nearly murdered her!
Oh, I was angry. The rage filled me from head to toe. I stewed in that rage while fulfilling my duties at Franco’s. And normally after a shift, I was exhausted and ready to sleep, but I wasn’t tired that night because I had a plan. It was only an inkling of one, but it was enough to push the Brynn boat full steam ahead.
It was that day when I realized I had the advantage. It was too late to go to the police. That hole Shavonne dug was probably a muddy cavern now. The place Dominic had rented was most likely spotless and without a strand of my DNA. I once felt like I was at a loss, but quickly realized I could take him down myself. Dominic didn’t know that I was still alive, and so long as he figured I was dead, I could make his life a living hell.
I drove straight home, walked into the house, and waited for Shavonne to get out of the shower. She screamed when she caught me pacing on the other side of the bathroom door.
“My God, Brynn! What the hell is wrong with you? You scared me!” she cried.
“I’m sorry,” I told her. “But you’re right. I’ve thought about it, Shavonne. I saw his stupid face on the news. He’s the fucking governor of North Carolina now.”
“What?” she blinked, confusion filling her eyes.
“Dominic is the governor,” I said.
She gasped. “You’re joking, right?”
“I’m not joking.” I huffed a dry laugh. “We’re going to take him down, Vonne. We’re going to make him pay for what he did.”
PART THREE
FIFTY-ONE
BRYNN
Meeting Dominic was a mistake. I saw the wedding band on his finger and knew he wasn’t available, but I went with him anyway. I suppose I can’t fully fault him for my decisions.
Though I was eager to meet him, there was something about him that’d changed from the time he was in Franco’s, to when I met him at the lounge. Even the way he reacted to the magician and the talk of his mother was unsettling, but I pushed through it.
I didn’t notice all the other ways at first either. It took me some time to go over that night, to analyze the smallest details and work out those fuzzy kinks. There was a shiftiness in his eyes as they darted around the club. He was overly aware of everyone around us, but in the back of my mind, I figured he was just that kind of person. Considering his childhood and his mom’s death, it made sense. Plus, I’d been around people who didn’t trust their surroundings. How can you trust them when you live in a country where someone can waltz inside with an automatic weapon and blast everyone inside it to smithereens? It makes sense, really, to be alert and vigilant in a world like this.
But Dominic had no reason to be that night—unless he had something to hide. And I was the idiot who chose to ignore the signs. Instead, I drank the fruity drinks and grew increasingly comfortable with him. I trusted him to take care of me, like he had when we were kids. But there was still a niggling inside me that pushed me to take extra precautions, whether I saw them as precautions or not. Sure, Dominic Baker had been my high school sweetheart, but people changed as they aged, and sometimes not for the better.
I made sure to take pictures, even when he wasn’t looking. I made sure to double check The Green Dot app so Shavonne would know where I was. Best friends look out for each other, you see. And she did.
If Shavonne had never been the worrying type, or the kind of person who assumed the worst in someone before the best, I would be dead. But it’s because of her that I’m alive and breathing. We pieced together this entire plan to take down the man who nearly killed me and we knew the risks going into it. Now she’s missing, and I’ll be damned if my friend dies because of my need for revenge.
I raise the gun now, tempted to press it into Jolene Baker’s forehead. I came through their back fence to avoid the police parked upfront.
Jolene opens her mouth, like she’s about to scream, but I raise a finger to my lips. “Nah-uh. Don’t do that.”
Her mouth clamps shut, and she takes a step back as I keep the gun steady in one hand. I step into her oversized house, using my free hand to close the door behind me.
“Where is your husband, Jolene?”
She swallows. “I—I don’t know.”
“You don’t know, or you don’t want to tell me?”
