Bounty (Page 40)

I cut him off. “That’s not his. He knows that. He fucking knows!” I yelled, took a pace, found movement too difficult while my mind was gripped with agony at the very thought Mav would get hold of Dad’s collection, and I came to a juddering halt.

If Mav got Dad’s collection, that meant Luna would get hold of it and it was her that wanted it.

So she could sell it.

That collection being my father’s guitars. He had many. All of them used to create and make amazing music. Most of them used by him and then by me to teach me how to do the same.

And some of them were Granddad Jerry’s that Dad had inherited so he could have them, with the caveat he’d then leave them to me.

They were worth a fortune not only because they were awesome guitars but because they were Johnny or Jerry Lonesome’s guitars.

And now they were mine.

Dad tried to teach Mav how to play but my brother didn’t have it, that became apparent to them both quickly, but Dad didn’t give up on Mav. Dad felt (rightly) that his son didn’t have to have a gift to enjoy making music.

However, instead of sharing he just wasn’t into it, something that would make Dad back off, it aggravated Maverick. So he’d act out and storm off, being a little shit doing it. He’d even once thrown one, damaging it beyond repair.

And those guitars were what I was going to put in that space I wanted to be able to open so I could see them. So, when I had a mind to spend some time with my dad and my grandfather, I could open up that room and have them both with me.

Always they’d be there but whenever I wanted, I could spend some time with them.

“Justice, you must know that this is an exercise in futility for Maverick. He’ll never break that will,” Mr. T assured me.

I was not assured.

“I do not give that…first…shit,” I snapped. “He knows this is beyond the pale. He knows this is an asshole move that redefines asshole moves. He fucking knows.”

“Justice, please calm down,” Mr. T urged.

“I’m not gonna calm down,” I bit out. “The time for me to lose my calm was months ago when all this bullshit started. But, like always, I’m my father’s daughter and I wanted to hope for the best from my little brother. Dad died before Mav showed him what Dad believed he had in him all along. A decent bone in his entire body. I’m done waiting.”

“Justice, it’s important you allow me and your father’s attorneys to deal with this,” Mr. T told me.

“And I will, after I call that piece of shit and tell him I think he’s a piece of shit. Then I’m done with him. Done. For good and forever.”

“Justice—”

“Good-bye, Mr. T.”

“Jus—”

I hung up.

Then I engaged my contacts and listened to it ring through to Mav as my phone signaled. It signaling, I was sure, because Mr. T was calling me back.

I listened to my brother’s sick, twisted, fucked-up voicemail and when I got the beep, I launched in.

“Four months ago, you lost a father. That had nothing to do with your behavior. Today, you lost a sister. And that’s all on you,” I spat into my phone, eyes now not to the calming view but my feet. “I know you’re going after Dad’s collection and you know that’s not right. You know that, Mav. You know. Since you’ve been born you’ve treated Dad like shit and didn’t give me much better. Thinking you’re entitled to what, I do not get. You had his love. He believed in you. He gave you that all the time and you threw it in his face. You did the same to me. And today, I’m done. Thanks. Thanks so much, Mav. I’m grieving Dad and now I’m grieving you. All this goes down and you and your mother go down with it, do not ever try to contact me again. Today, I lost a brother. Today, you cease to exist.”

With that, I tore the phone from my ear, looked down at it while I stabbed at the screen to disconnect and I stayed there, frozen, staring at my phone, seeing I was shaking and doing it violently.

Shit happened. People twisted things. Other people believed them.

Mr. T said that Dad’s will was ironclad. Maverick and Luna would not get what they wanted and Luna had laid a trail of vicious greed for years that any attorney could pick up and any judge would see through.

But shit happened.

I didn’t care about the money.

I cared about Dana and her being safe and comfortable because Dad would have wanted it that way.

But I didn’t care about the money.

I cared about those guitars.

They were Dad. They were Granddad. They were hundreds of concerts. Hundreds of sessions. Thousands of hours held in strong, capable, talented hands making beauty.

And now, Dana keeping them safe for me until my house was done, they were mine.

The very thought of Luna getting her grasping, bitchy hands on them and selling them to the highest bidder made bile race up my throat.

“Jus.”

Deke’s voice carved into the perverse, bitter sick my brother and his mother stirred up in me and I lifted my gaze, twisted my neck and looked to his face.

He was not close.

But he was concerned.

And that concern undid me.

I turned fully to him, dropped my head and fell forward.

He was not near and then he was, right there for me to collide with as everything pressed into me. So much, I couldn’t hold it back, and the tears came.

He wrapped his arms around me as he stepped farther into me so he could hold me close.

That was when I started sobbing. My body shaking with it, automatically burrowing into his heat, his solidity, his bulk, all Deke.