Southern Comfort - Natasha Madison Page 0,56

…”

“I know,” Casey says. “Email me whatever you got.”

“What does all this mean?” I say almost in a whisper when he hangs up the phone.

“It means that he put a tracker on your phone so he knew where you were every single second,” he says and then looks down. “He also knew what you were texting and when you were texting. I will know more when I read the report.”

“How could he?” I say, my head spinning. “When?” I ask myself the questions that I’m sure Casey is wondering also. “I don’t understand.” I will not cry, I tell myself. He has taken more tears from you than he deserves, I tell myself. “I was so stupid,” I whisper as Casey takes us to the hotel, and the whole time, I wonder what else Dominic is going to do to me.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Casey

I pull out of the parking garage and look over at Olivia who has been silent ever since Derek told us that her phone was being tracked. It’s almost as if she gave up in defeat, right after I told her I was falling for her. I shake my head. Maybe it’s a sign to let me know that it will not and can never happen. We are like oil and water.

Meanwhile, I’m the one who overreacted when I punched the steering wheel, and to be honest, I’ve barely kept my anger in check ever since someone broke into my house and trashed her room. I know that Derek has someone over there right now cleaning it up and putting in the new system that hasn’t even been out yet. I also know that he’s running facial recognitions on the guy’s face even though all we see are his eyes.

“Where did you want to go shopping?” I look over and try to pull her out of her head. “We can either go now, or we can check into the hotel.”

She looks over at me and asks, “Why?”

I look at her and then back at the road. “Why do you want to go shopping?” Laughing, I turn back to her. “I have no idea. You tell me.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “Not that. Why put a tracker on my phone?”

I try to answer her question, but in all honesty, I have no idea what his motive behind it was. “I have no idea. Maybe he was scared of losing you.”

“Losing me?” She puts her head back now and laughs. “Now that I think of it, he didn’t even give a shit.” I try to say something, but she just continues. “He was just like everyone else and liked having me on his arm. I mean, sure at first, he brought out all the charm. Brought me to Italy for pizza on a Friday night.” Her voice is getting higher and higher. “Who does that? I didn’t even like pizza. I like pasta.” I try not to laugh, and she looks at me. “I mean, not anymore. Now, I like everything deep-fried and with butter.”

“Do you now, darlin’?” I ask her softly, loving the fact that she loves what we gave her. I mean, my mother more than we, but still.

“I do,” she says. “He destroyed my life. Literally destroyed it, and just when I think it’s going to be okay, and I can get over it, what does he do?” I look over, and I don’t know if she’s asking me or telling me. “He does the only thing a swine can do. He fucking kicks you again, hoping you fall.” She wipes away a tear, but this time, it’s in anger. “Not this time. I refuse. My whole life I’ve always had someone who wanted something from me. My first memory was when I was on the middle of the stage and my mother was standing there right in front, making sure that I moved exactly how we practiced, and when I did everything like a trained dog, what did I get from it? Even a trained dog gets a treat, but I got nothing. Not even you did good. You should have smiled a bit more, Olivia.” My hands gripping the steering wheel so tight they are turning white. “Who gets false teeth at five because Olivia, you look like Jaws.” My stomach gets tight. “Do you know that she refused to have me in open toe shoes because my feet weren’t pretty?” I don’t know this person, but I hate her. “My feet, by the way, are