Page 131 of Contentious

It wouldn’t be long until the police would be looking for them.

With that in mind, he decelerated to sixty miles per hour.

“Why are you slowing down?”

“I assume you don’t want me to get stopped for speeding when you’re holding a gun on us.”

“Is this smug loser what does it for you these days, Cresley? I gotta say… I don’t get it. A girl like you could have anyone. Why’d you want to be with a washed-up heroin addict anyway?”

Carson gripped the wheel tighter, outraged that Marlon would say that in front of Ty. Not that he wouldn’t find out eventually, but that didn’t have to happen when he was seven.

“I talked to some of my boys about you. Found out you were a professional junkie back in the day. Wheeling and dealing to get your next fix. Heard you did some really depraved shit to score. Does Cresley know about all that?”

Carson wanted to punch his teeth out, but that was exactly the reaction Marlon wanted.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” Cresley said, “but I already know all about it and how Carson turned his life around and helps other addicts do the same. Hearing his story made me admire him more than I already did.”

Later, when he’d think about the moment when he was certain he’d fallen in love with her, it would probably be that one, when she came to his defense without knowing a fraction of the nasty shit he’d been involved in once upon a time. He knew without asking that the nasty shit wouldn’t matter to her nearly as much as his redemption story did. She saw who he was today, and that was what mattered to her.

“There was this one guy… You remember Lucifer, Carson? That guy had some stories about you, man. Like when you took a dead guy’s wallet and used his cash to score, or the time you stole another guy’s dope and got the shit kicked out of you by him and his boys. Remember that? I bet those were some good times. Heard you lost some teeth that time,” he added with a laugh. “Not such a pretty boy then, were you?”

Carson refused to give him any reaction, even as he died on the inside from Cresley and Ty hearing such awful things about him.

And Marlon was just getting started.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“Remember Sarge? Man, did he have some shit to say about the guy from the fancy-pants legal family and how you were their secret shame for years.”

As an investigator, Carson gave him props for having done his homework. He’d somehow managed to find most of the scumbags Carson had called friends back then. And they’d been happy to spill the tea about the many ways Carson had done them wrong before he “found Jesus” in rehab and started talking shit about the rest of them.

That part wasn’t true. He’d never said a word about the people he’d hung out with then or any of the hideous things they’d done while in the throes of addiction. He’d take those secrets to the grave with him, but Marlon had learned enough to change how Cresley and Ty saw him forever.

How would he ever look either of them in the eyes again?

“I bet you thought your old buddies would keep your secrets, right? Well, it turns out that they haven’t forgotten how you turned your back on them and never gave them a thought after you went straight. They think it must be nice to have rich parents who can pay for the best rehab money can buy. Who needs junkie friends when you’re living in a mansion in Beverly Hills, am I right?”

Carson had paid for countless trips to rehab for people who were desperate to get clean. None of the guys Marlon was talking about had ever been desperate for anything other than their next fix.

“Nothing to say, pretty boy? That’s disappointing. By the way, hot shot, your so-called security guys are a joke. You might want to tell them that checking the perimeter every thirty minutes makes them predictable and easy to slip past. It was ridiculously easy—both times.”

“Leave him alone, Marlon,” Cresley said. “Your beef is with me, not him.”

“Aw, look at you worried about your widdle boyfriend’s feelings. Too bad you never gave a shit about mine.”

“That’s not true, and you know it. You’re the one who doesn’t give a shit about anyone but yourself. It’s all about you, Marlon, isn’t it? It was never about me or our son.”

“Oh poor, sweet Cresley. How pathetic can you be? If it’s not all about you all the time, you’re not happy.”

“That’s not true,” Ty said, his voice quivering.

Carson had never wanted to murder anyone as much as he wished he could permanently end Marlon Beckett before he did more damage that could never be undone.

“She only cares about me, which is more than you can say.”

“Shhh, baby,” Cresley said. “Don’t waste your breath. He’s not worth it.”

Marlon turned to glare at her in the back seat. “That’s what you’ve always thought. That I wasn’t worth your time or attention.”