Party Foul - Abby Knox Page 0,27
didn’t want to get mixed up with.
But neither did he snitch, which is why he went to prison for so long. All of Girardi’s men who cut deals got off with light sentences. But not Levi.
“Is that what this is? You keeping an eye on me for Girardi?”
“I ain’t telling you shit.”
Levi said, “Fine,” pulled out his phone from the inside of his coat pocket, and snapped a picture of the guy and of the badge.
“Fuck you, asshole,” Faraday said.
Levi was pissed beyond recognizing himself. It was always these dangerous moments when he let his mouth run away from him.
“Before I let you go, I got a message for Girardi. Tell him I ain’t up to nothing, and me and Billy don’t work for him anymore. He never kept up his end of the bargain when I was in prison, so I don’t give a rat’s ass anymore. You tell him I’m done.”
The soldier dressed as a reporter sneered. “You looking to get yourself killed over some high-class whore?”
The quick jab to the pretend-reporter Faraday’s nose was a blur.
Blood spurted out instantly. Levi backed away and let the little prick roll to the foot of the dune and scramble to his feet. The guy spluttered, dropping his camera to hold on to his nose with both hands. The camera dangled on the strap around his neck.
Levi yanked it so hard the plastic latches broke.
“You broke my—hey!”
The creep was making the blood spatter everywhere with his continued spluttering and whining. Levi turned away as he scrolled and deleted every last photo that had been taken in the camera. Faraday squealed and protested.
There was more in here than just party photos.
Levi’s heart nearly stopped.
There were photos of Fiona in here. Photos of her shopping uptown. A shot of her studying at the library. Some of her sitting at a restaurant with her friend on the pier. The time stamp showed everywhere she’d been in the last two days. This dude had been following her. And then he saw the photos of her leaving an alleyway between Pounder’s Gym and Crow Bar.
“The fuck is the meaning of this?”
“Give me my camera.”
“In a minute,” Levi said casually, as if he was doing nothing more than checking a Facebook timeline. As he scrolled through the photos, his blood ran cold.
“You’re an asshole, you know that? I’m a member of the press.”
“You’re a creep. Either way I’m about to eat you alive if you don’t get the fuck out of here. If I see you around Fiona again, you’re dead.”
“Oh my god, what happened to you?”
Fiona’s face was horrified as she took in the image of his suit shirt covered in blood.
“I know what it looks like, but I didn’t kill anyone.”
“Wow, that’s not where my mind went, but now it just did. What the hell, Levi? I’m calling the cops because somebody attacked you, clearly.”
“Relax, I gave him a bloody nose and told him if he ever came sniffing around you again I would snap his neck.”
“Jesus on toast, what is wrong with you?”
Levi knew she didn't mean anything by it. She was reacting to the sight of blood and the struggle she had overheard. But Levi consciously took this question from her as yet another delineation between her world and his world. She didn’t understand his way of dealing with enemies. Didn’t understand that he was built to destroy, maim, protect her at all costs. She didn’t understand that he and his friends grew up surviving with their fists while she was raised in a gilded cage at a safe distance from all things dirty and bloody.
Did she not realize how people in the real world protected themselves? No, no she didn't.
“Levi, talk to me.”
“I’m leaving.”
“You can’t leave the party. We need to have a talk about your toxic masculinity problems that cause you to lead with your fists and ask questions later.”
“I fulfilled my end of the agreement. I showed up to the party. I successfully played the part of your arm candy. And somebody knew about me. Somebody showed up here who’s been following you, knows about me, and is threatening to rat me out to your dad.”
“What? I’m texting Daddy’s security right now.”
“No, Fi. Listen. It’s not gonna go well for me or—god forbid—you if we send cops or bodyguards after him. I took care of it, for now. And now I just want to go home. Tell your dad I’m sorry. I don’t know, you’re good at making shit up,