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Ronan had to swallow down the bile in his throat and take a breath before he could even respond. This son of a bitch was a piece of work. Careful to keep the disgust from his tone, he merely raised an eyebrow. “I'll just overlook the fact that you accused her of 'slumming' in my bar and give you her check. Do you want the bag of clothes she left at my place or should I just throw it out?”
“I doubt she'll have need of it any time soon. Something tells me she's gonna be locked up a long time. Toss it,” he answered, taking the check from Ronan's outstretched hand.
All at once, Moira's father seemed to come back to himself. The monster was gone and the polite mask slipped back into place. “Thank you for stopping in, Mr. Kelly. I'll be sure to see that Moira gets this when she's well again.”
“Good enough,” Ronan said, confused by the instant shift in mood. “I can see myself out. Thank you for your time.”
The mayor gave him a genial smile. Perhaps he didn't realize or perhaps didn't care that he'd openly admitted to institutionalizing his daughter to punish her for disobeying him. This guy was more fucked up than Ronan could have ever imagined.
After giving Moira's father what he hoped was some semblance of a smile and a casual wave, he walked out of the office. His heart pounding, he released the first easy breath he'd had since he woke up in his office on the couch two days ago. He certainly hoped that the audio and video were clear because John Devereaux had just dug his own grave.
Smiling at the scowling secretary, he grabbed a business card off her desk as he breezed out the door. Despite the hope that was perilously close to the surface, Ronan's hands were shaking on the way back to his truck. He slid into the driver's side and looked at Sarge. “Goddamn, I hope that camera of yours worked. That motherfucker makes me sick to my stomach.”
“Well, let's see. Gimme the thumb drive,” Sarge said, booting up his laptop.
Ronan unbuttoned his shirt and popped the camera out. “There ya go. You can forward to the last few minutes of it.”
He watched as Sarge copied the data from the memory stick. They both sat there in silence as the video played. The audio was crisp. The picture was clear. Mayor Devereaux had just damned himself on film. Ronan had the all of the leverage that he needed. It was time to go send John Devereaux an email he wouldn't be likely to forget.
****
Sarge and Ty sat with him in his apartment, waiting. It had been hours since the email had been sent. The television was on, but no one paid it any mind. The silence was punctuated with small bursts of conversation, but the tension was palpable. When his phone finally did ring, the three of them jumped in unison.
“Hello?” Ronan answered on the third ring.
“You son of a bitch—”
“I don't have time to play games with you. Here's how this is going to work. You're gonna get Moira out of the facility she's in as soon as you fucking manage it. You're never going to bother her, myself, or anyone that I know ever again or the fifteen copies of this fucking video I've got floating around are going to hit every single media source known to man, you piece of shit. Make it happen tonight or this goes national.”
“You little punk. You've got no idea who you're dealing with—”
“No. You've got no idea who the fuck you're dealing with. I want it done tonight. And just in case that little video isn't enough of an incentive for you do what I told you to, you should also know that I have a copy of the falsified police report. Oddly, it says that she was apprehended at the hotel inside Lorelei city limits. I've got about fifty witnesses that will claim otherwise along with security footage of the incident from inside the bar. How long do you think your city cops would be willing to lie once internal affairs gets on their ass?”
After a moment of silence, he finally responded. “I'm sure the media would be interested in your little secret, Mr. Kelly.”
Christ. This guy was desperate. “What secret?”
“Don't play dumb with me. I'll tell the world about you and your shape-shifting buddies!”
Ronan let his deep laughter fill the room. “Shape-shifter? You need to lay off the peyote, you sad son of a bitch. Do you have any idea how crazy you sound right now? You go ahead and alert the media, but don't be surprised if you get yourself Baker Acted this time. Just get her out. Tonight.”
“I-I don't know if I can make anything happen tonight.”
“You better work it out. And just in case you were wondering, this is how you know that I'm not someone you want to fuck with. You be sure and call me when it's done, John,” he ordered, disconnecting the line.
He dropped his cell phone. “Asshole.”
Both Ty and Sarge were already standing up. Ty spoke first. “Bar open tomorrow? I'll cover things. I'm sure you guys are gonna need some time.”
Ronan nodded, clapping him on the back. “Thank you, Ty. Sarge. Both of you. You don't even understand.”
Sarge waved him off and said, “I'd have missed her sassy mouth anyway.”
“Mine,” he warned, growling.
“I know she is,” Sarge said, his lips twitching. “After all this, you think I'd try and take your woman? We're like family. Albeit dysfunctional.”
“When you find your mate, you'll understand, my brother. Thank you,” he answered, leaning forward to give Sarge the manliest hug he could muster.
