Possession (15 page)

Vincent didn't like lying to Tina, but he had no choice for now. He'd kept his end of the bargain, waited patiently to find out what her boss would do to protect her against Kline. Turned out to be nothing. Alex James would shield his kin at all costs, including destroying Tina's career.

Vincent couldn't let that happen.

He took the crosstown expressway to Ocean Drive, then turned onto Louisiana Avenue, where Kline's main residence was located. The background check had revealed the bastard lived in multiple locations around the metro area. Another sign of trouble. People who constantly moved around had something to hide. The black Mercedes Tina had described was parked in the long driveway. There was nothing remarkable about the 1930s bungalow, though the lawn was finely landscaped and the wraparound porch furnished with top-end goods.

Vincent parked his bike behind Kline's car and removed his sunglasses. The front window curtains parted slightly. It didn't matter if Kline knew he was here. Vincent intended to confront him and put an end to Tina's torment.

He pounded on the front door, his hands sweating in his black leather riding gloves. It was too hot to wear them, but it was better not to leave incriminating evidence behind like fingerprints. The front door opened, and Kline surprisingly invited him inside. Did the fucker really believe Vincent didn't pose a credible threat, or was he just too stupid to realize it?

“I've been waiting to meet you,” he said arrogantly.

“The feeling is mutual.” Vincent crossed the threshold, eyes and ears open. Nothing looked out of place. He scanned the walls and bookshelves in the entryway, looking for blinking red lights or some other kind of surveillance equipment. “We need to talk.”

Kline looked exactly like his driver's license photo. Same dark hair and eyes, six feet tall, polished appearance, slacks and a button-down shirt, and slippers on his feet.

“Can I offer you a beer? Iced tea?”

“This isn't a social call.” Vincent glared at him, hatred boiling just below the surface. God, he wanted to snap this pencil-necked motherfucker in half. Why waste time and give him the opportunity to explain himself? But Vincent had promised his Brothers to exercise caution before he struck.
Be sure,
they'd said. “I know everything.”

“Define
everything.
”

Vincent fisted his hands, then flexed them. He took a step forward. “You vandalized Tina's SUV on club property—that's where it all started, motherfucker. And when she continued to deny you, instead of moving on, you retaliated, stalked and harassed her. Left threatening voice messages, sent her flowers, showed up at her office unannounced…” He advanced another foot.

“Conjecture coming from an experienced man like you surprises me.”

“Experienced man?” Vincent had reached his limit sooner than he expected. Nothing seemed to rattle this guy—not Vincent's size, his patches, his visible fury, not even direct confrontation.
Fuck it.
He grabbed a fistful of Kline's shirt and slammed him against the closest wall. “What sanatorium did you escape from? Don't pull your intellectual bullshit with me. And don't fucking lie, or your Uncle Alexander will be cleaning up pieces of your skull for the next week. Did you attack Tina Friday night?”

The arrogance disappeared from Kline's eyes, and he went slack in Vincent's hand. Vincent smelled his fear, recognized it on his face. “Pussy.” Vincent gave him a violent shake. “Did you bruise her wrist in the restroom?”

Vincent's hands moved instinctively to Kline's throat. He squeezed hard enough to deprive him of air for a few seconds. “Answer me.”

Kline shook his head.

“All right, we'll do this the hard way.” Vincent half dragged him down the short hallway that opened into a generous great room. He navigated his way down another corridor and found a half bath.

“Let go of me.” Kline smashed his fist against the side of Vincent's face, but it didn't faze him.

Vincent closed the door and let go of Kline. “Did you assault Tina?”

Silence.

Vincent shoved him toward the open toilet. “Get on your knees.”

Wide-eyed with fear, Kline's gaze zigzagged around the small space, desperately searching for an escape.

Vincent shook his head, thoroughly disgusted. He reached inside his unzipped cut and produced his revolver, aiming it at Kline's head. “On your knees.”

Kline swallowed, still refusing to comply.

“Like things the hard way?” Vincent gave him another push. “Do it.”

Kline reluctantly knelt in front of the commode, turning his head to the side so he could see Vincent. “W-what are you doing?”

“Dunk your head in the water.”

“What?”

“Did I stutter?” Vincent edged closer and held the barrel of the gun to Kline's temple. “Have a refreshing drink.”

Kline's gaze focused on the porcelain in front of him. “I can't.”

Vincent had survived a lot of dark times in his life, had bent over backward to succeed in the military and at the bank. He'd loved hard and suffered for it. But the day he put on his cut and swore to protect the club, that's the first time he felt like he belonged to something bigger and better than himself. Now Tina qualified as the most important person in his life. More precious than the breath he drew. More beloved than his freedom.

Rage and love collided in his chest. The need to protect her overwhelmed his senses. He stared at Kline, weighing the consequences of what he intended to do.
Live hard. Die hard.
That creed reverberated through every cell in his body. Why love if you weren't willing to shed blood over it? Just like Dog Tag had a few days ago. This loser needed to learn a life lesson so he never victimized another woman. Oh, Vincent preferred neutering the bastard so he couldn't reproduce. Or euthanasia would take care of the problem on a more permanent basis.

He growled as he gripped the back of Kline's head and forced it into the toilet. “Hold your breath, asshole,” he yelled.

Kline flailed helplessly. Vincent counted to thirty before he tugged on his hair and let him come up for air. “Ready to confess?”

Kline heaved for breath, his face covered in the dark blue dye from the toilet freshener tab. “P-please…”

Nope.
Vincent forced him under again.

It took three more dunks before Kline finally admitted to everything. Of course Vincent made him speak clearly and slowly into the microphone on his cellphone. Afterward, Kline collapsed in a useless heap on the tiled floor, tears streaming down his face. Vincent left him alone for several minutes; the guy had nearly drowned.

“Now that I have a verbal confirmation, it's time to pay for your indulgence.” Vincent hovered over him.

“Indulgence?”

“You're Catholic; I saw the rosary beads hanging in the hallway.”

“Yes.”

“Then no further explanation is required; you know what an indulgence fee is. Now are you going to stand up like a man, or do I need to drag you out of the bathroom?”

Tina spent the early afternoon studying the real estate ads in the newspaper while Jefferson looked up available properties online. They'd agreed on taking her SUV and ended up at a café for cappuccinos. Who knew a burly Prospect had been a barista in a former life?

“So I've narrowed it down to six houses, all within a five-mile radius of the clubhouse. Pretty good, huh?”

Jefferson looked up from his laptop. “The one with the detached, three-car garage is my favorite.”

Tina scooted her chair closer to Jefferson and looked at the computer screen. A slide show of all the pictures associated with the property flashed before her eyes. Yes, she liked that one, too. “Should we take a drive? Maybe peek in the windows?”

“Sure.” Jefferson powered off the computer and stashed it in its case.

Tina left a tip for the waitress and started for the front door. Her cell chimed and she answered as she stepped outside. “Dad?”

“Hello, baby girl.”

“How are Mom and Dustin?”

“Great,” he said. “Just wanted to say hello and let you know we're getting excited about the trip.”

Jefferson waved to her as he approached.

“Hold on a sec, Dad.” Tina lowered the phone. “I have to talk to my father. Do you mind if I take a couple minutes?”

“No,” Jefferson responded. “I'll peruse the shelves in the grocery store. Be back in ten minutes.”

“Thanks.” Tina appreciated his patience. “Okay, Dad, I'm back.”

“Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No, just out for coffee with friends.”

“Not at work?”

“No.” She grew quiet, hesitant to share what had happened recently.

“Correct me if I'm wrong,” her dad started. “But whenever you quit talking, something is up in your world.”

She loved her father's ability to read her emotions, even over the phone. One of the benefits of being an only child—your parents missed little. She'd already debated internally for days whether she should tell her parents everything. About Vincent, Kline, and now her boss. Her father was a retired attorney, so he knew the game better than most.

“I met someone, Dad.”

“Boy? Girl?”

Tina laughed. “Definitely a boy.”

“As long as you're happy, we're happy.”

God, she missed them. She'd grown up in an ideal world. Everything had its place. Everyone had a purpose. Certain things were taboo there. Like guys with tats who wore leather. “I hope you'll still feel that way after I tell you how and why we met.”

“Let me get Mom on the other line,” he said. “Hold for a minute.”

He set the phone down, and she heard her mother's distinct voice in the background.

“Hello, honey,” her mom crooned once she picked up.

“Miss you,” Tina said.

“We'll be there soon.”

“I can't wait.” With all the excitement Tina had experienced lately, she'd kill for a month of boring family dinners.

“I'm back,” her dad announced. “Now tell us about that someone you met.”

“You don't need to yell,” her mother said. “I'm standing three feet away from you.”

“Margaret,” he chastised. “I wasn't yelling at you, I was talking to our daughter. And if I don't raise my voice, how can she hear me over that blasted noise Dustin's video game is making?”

Tina chuckled so hard her belly hurt. Yep. Boring family stuff now qualified as one of her favorite things in life.

“Dustin,” her mom called. “Turn the volume down while we're on the phone.”

“But Mom…”

“Stop whining,” she said.

The noise disappeared and Tina could hear someone breathing over the line. “Ready?” she asked.

“Ready,” her dad said.

She spent the next few minutes weaving her tale, the PG version. They didn't need to know about all the offensive phone messages Kline left or some of the other things he'd said to her. But they needed to know how wonderful Vincent was, how he'd protected her, and why she loved him with all her heart. So much, in fact, tears wet her eyes as she stressed what an integral part of her life he'd become. His club affiliation didn't matter to her, and it shouldn't to them.

“You said something about Vincent being a ‘one-percenter.' ” Her mom sounded confused, and was likely ignoring the situation with Kline because it scared the shit out of her. Those rose-colored glasses she wore were about to come off. “Does that have something to do with the political slogan,
we are the ninety-nine percent?
Is he a Wall Street type, dear?”

“Margaret,” her father said. “A one-percenter has nothing to do with the Occupy protesters. He's a biker. Remember all the buzz about that show
Sons of Anarchy
?”

“Oh,” her mother said. “He rides a motorcycle?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Does he wear a leather jacket?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Does he have tattoos?”

Tina rolled her eyes. “Yes.”

A moment of silence passed before her father cleared his throat. “Do you want me to fly down early? We need to do something about Kline,
now.
”

“Honestly, Dad, while I'm staying at the clubhouse, nothing will happen to me. Vincent is very vigilant, and I'm working on a plan to make sure Kline never hurts me or anyone else again. I'm confident things will work out very quickly.”

“So help me, if he hurts you…”

“It's okay.” Tina felt like a little girl again, her father the superhero of her dreams. “I'll call as soon as anything changes.”

“Tina,” her mother said. “We'd be honored to meet Vincent. Please tell him how grateful I am for his help.”

Tears of joy slipped down Tina's cheek, and she thumbed them away. She should have known her parents would be more receptive to Vincent. It didn't matter what he looked like; her father had always taught her to judge a man by his character. And now they'd get to meet her man in the flesh and see for themselves how wonderful he truly was.

“My friend is back, Mom and Dad. I need to run. Love you both so much. And tell Dustin I'll play video games with him over the holiday.”

“Love you, dear.” Her mother hung up the phone.

“Dad, still there?”

“Yes. Listen to me: I want you to go straight to the police. I still have friends at the department.”

“I can't do that. Not yet.”

“Why?”

“I need to track down the two women from the bar so I have witness testimony against Kline.”

“I'd feel better if you got an emergency restraining order. Isn't Judge Mallory still around? Maybe Gloria Vela? She's an old battle-ax; she'll grant one.”

“Yes,” Tina answered. “Judges Mallory and Vela are still active. But I want to do this my way.”

“Why? There's nothing to prove, Valentina. You're beautiful, strong, and incredibly tenacious. Let me help.”

Tina motioned for Jefferson to wait while she finished up her chat. “Trust my judgment, Dad. Okay? I love you.”

“Love you too.”

She disconnected. “Did you have fun at the store?” She eyed the bag in Jefferson's hand.

“Like chocolate?”

“Depends on what kind.”

He pulled out five candy bars and she grabbed the Butterfinger. “Perfect.”

“Ready to look at that house?”

Tina disarmed the alarm on her Cadillac with her remote control. “Let's go.”