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Joseph staggered back a step, a hand raking through his greasy unkempt hair. “Hacked account? I don't know what you're?—"
“Stop playing innocent!” Irish barked, his control slipping. He took a deep breath and counted backward from twenty. He towered over the other man. His presence filled the room like a storm cloud. “I've seen it all. Those messages, the released sex tapes, the veiled and not so veiled threats. I’ve read how you spoke to her when you were dating. It’s all vile, manipulative. And you, Jamie. Your narcissistic controlling behaviors nearly ruined her life.”
“Like the little whore was innocent,” Jamie spat. “She burst onto the scene like a fucking ray of sunshine after a storm and tried to wiggle her way into everyone’s lives. She came in hard and fast. If you want to play with fire, you are going to get fucking burned. She deserved every last thing she got, and then some.”
“What did you do?” Joseph turned to Jamie. “What the fuck did you do?”
“Wait a second.” This time it was Hunter speaking from the doorway. “What if we have it wrong, Irish? Didn’t you say the post read like a female wrote them?”
The wheels turned quickly in Irish’s head. He closed his eyes, bringing forth the post on LittleLife. The ones where the person who hacked Makenzie’s account doxed the other Littles.
“When was the last time you were on LittleLife?” He turned to Joseph.
“What the fuck is LittleLife?” The response took the air out of Irish’s lungs. The betrayal was that much deeper. He slowly turned to where Jamie stood.
“Jamie.”
“Who the fuck is Jamie?” Joseph asked. “Why do you keep calling my wife that name?”
Of course, they wouldn’t use their real names.
“You three need to get out of my house before I call the cops,” Jamie demanded. Instead of following her demand, the men moved further into the apartment and shut the door. Savage and Hunter stood in front of the door, blocking the exit.
Jamie reached for her cellphone. “Before you call 9-1-1, you should see this.” Irish reached into the back of his jeans and pulled out a manilla envelope and threw it across the room at Jamie.
“What is it?” Joseph asked.
“Evidence. Evidence of everything you and your wife have been doing on LittleLife going back a decade. Turns out, Makenzie wasn’t the only woman you two played. How much money have you scammed women out of? How many innocent women did you pretend to Daddy?” Irish whipped around and stared at Joseph.
“Look, I swear I don’t know what you are talking about. Daddy? I had a fucking vasectomy. I don’t have children and if anyone says I do, they are lying.” Joseph’s voice wavered under Irish's scrutiny, but his gaze held firm. “I don’t know a Makenzie or what a LittleLife is.”
Irish studied Joseph, searching his face for any hint of deceit. “You expect me to believe that?” Irish spat out, anger lacing his every word. But behind the fire in his eyes, uncertainty crept in. Was it possible he was wrong? “Makenzie facetimed with a man, not a woman.”
“If she facetimed, she saw his face. Call her. Call her right now. She’ll tell you it wasn’t me.”
“She never saw his face or his body. Just heard his voice.” Irish said.
“Fine! Call her up! I’ll talk to her. She won’t know my voice.”
“She won’t know his voice, Irish.” Hunter said. He was leaning against their door, casually watching the confrontation unfold.
“Because it wasn’t him. It was her. I don’t know how she did it but look at her. I’ve been watching her reactions to your accusations and the smug bitch smirks every time you accuse him of something she did.”
“Believe what you want,” Jamie lifted her chin defiantly.
“I'm telling you. I don’t know what the fuck you are talking about,” Joseph said again. The intensity between them crackled, two men caught in a tug-of-war of trust and accusation. Irish's hands itched to shake the truth out of Joseph, yet a sliver of doubt restrained him. What if Hunter was right? What if Joseph had nothing to do with any of it.
“Is this about those stories you write?” Joseph turned to his wife. “Those fucking perverted stories about women being sexual slaves to men or some shit? I let you frequent those BDSM websites as much as you want. The only rule I had was for you to keep me out of it.”
“If you don’t know what I’m talking about then explain this,” Irish demanded, his voice a low growl barely contained. He grabbed the packet of papers from Jamie and thrust it intoJoseph’s face. Irish’s gaze stayed locked on Joseph, searching for any flicker of guilt.
“What is it?”
“Our buddy was able to get all sorts of information on you. The GoFundMe’s that you lied to people about, getting sympathy and their hard-earned money due to a car accident that never happened, to help pay for funeral costs for a still born baby in a pregnancy that never existed and don’t get me started on your so-called cancer treatments. Thousands of donated dollars that just so happen to coincide with the expensive fucking vacations you went on. They were timed suspiciously around tax time to cover the money you owed the IRS from your books failing.” The color drained from Joseph’s face.
“You told me they were book advances.” He stalked toward his wife. “You scammed people out of money? You committed extortion? How could you?”
“Not only everyday people on GoFundMe but women, like my girlfriend Makenzie. How did you do it, Jamie? How did you convince her you were him?” Irish wanted answers and he wanted them now. Makenzie was going to be gutted knowing it was Jamie who she’d been obeying and dating all that time.
