Chapter 129 *
Scarlett’s POV
"Just wait." He got out of the car.
I watched him walk into the shop. Completely confused.
What was he doing?
Ten minutes passed. Then he came back out.
His arms were full.
Two bouquets of deep red roses. A bottle of whiskey. Two cigars in a wooden case.
I stared at him through the windshield. My mouth actually fell open.
He opened the car door. Set everything carefully in the back seat.
Then he got in. Started the engine. Like nothing unusual had just happened.
"What is all that?" I finally managed to say.
He glanced at me. "We're going to visit your parents, right?"
"Yeah, but..." I gestured at the items in the back. "Roses? Whiskey? Cigars?"
"You bring gifts when you visit the dead." His voice was matter-of-fact. "It's a sign of respect."
Mafia families treated cemetery visits like sacred rituals.
But I never thought Damon would do this for my parents.
For two regular people from Montana. A country doctor and his wife.
"Your father raised you," he said. "Kept you safe. Gave you a home when nobody else would."
"In my world, that makes him more important than blood. More important than any made man."
My eyes were burning again. I blinked hard.
"Thank you." The words came out barely above a whisper.
He reached over. Squeezed my hand once.
"Don't thank me yet." He put the car in drive. "We still have to get there."
We pulled back onto the road. I gave him directions to the cemetery.
Five minutes later, we were driving down a narrow street on the edge of town.
That's when I saw them.
Four guys. Maybe five. Standing near motorcycles parked across the road.
Leather jackets. Ripped jeans. Tattoos visible on their arms.
I recognized them immediately.
"Shit." The word slipped out.
Damon glanced at me. "What?"
"Local trouble." I sat up straighter. "Small-time dealers. They like to shake down tourists."
The SUV with its out-of-state plates and obvious luxury. We might as well have a target painted on the side.
"Should I go around?" Damon asked. His voice was calm.
"There's no other route to the cemetery from here."
He slowed the car. Stopped about ten feet from the group.
The guys were already moving. Spreading out. Blocking the road completely.
One of them had a baseball bat. Another one spun a chain around his hand.
The leader walked up to Damon's window. Knocked on the glass with his knuckles.
He was maybe twenty-five. Greasy hair. Badly done neck tattoo. Eyes dilated from whatever he was on.
Damon rolled down the window.
The guy leaned in. Grinned. His teeth were yellow.
"Nice car." His voice was rough. "You lost, friend?"
Damon didn't answer right away. Just looked at the guy through the window.
His expression was completely blank. Like he was staring at a fly that had landed on his windshield.
The leader leaned in closer. His breath probably smelled like cigarettes and beer.
"I asked you a question, rich boy." He tapped the glass with his knuckles. "You deaf or something?"
Damon's jaw tightened. The leader didn't notice. He was too busy grinning at his buddies.
"Check out this car!" One of the guys called out. He was running his dirty hand along the hood. "This thing's worth more than my house!"
Another one laughed. "Shit, it's worth more than the whole damn street!"
The guy with the baseball bat stepped closer to my window. He leaned down. Looked right at me.
His eyes traveled down. Lingered.
My skin crawled.
"You got yourself a pretty girl there." He grinned. Showed yellow teeth. "Real pretty."
"Take your hand off my car."
Damon's voice cut through the air like ice. The words came out quiet.
But something in his tone made the temperature drop.
The leader pulled back slightly. His grin faltered for just a second.
Then he recovered. Laughed it off.
"Or what?" He spread his arms. "You gonna call the cops? Good luck with that. Sheriff's my uncle."
He leaned back in. Put both hands on the car door.
"Now here's how this works. You pay the parking fee. We let you through. Simple."
Damon slowly turned his head. Looked directly at the guy.
"You want a hundred dollars?"
The leader's grin widened. "Now you're getting it."
"Then get a fucking job."
The silence that followed was deafening.
I actually stopped breathing for a second.
The leader's face went red. His hands clenched into fists.
"What did you just say to me?"
Damon didn't repeat himself. Just reached for the gear shift.
"Hey!" The leader grabbed the door handle. Tried to yank it open. "I'm talking to you, asshole!"
The door was locked. Obviously.
But he kept pulling. Getting angrier.
"You think you're better than us?" His voice rose. "You think you can just roll through our town in your fancy fucking car and disrespect us?"
The other guys moved closer. Forming a tighter circle around the SUV.
The one with the bat raised it. Not threatening yet. Just holding it ready.
My heart started pounding. This was about to get bad.
I opened my mouth. Ready to tell Damon to just pay them and go.
But he was already opening his door.
My stomach dropped.
What are you doing?
Damon stepped out of the car. Straightened his suit jacket.
The leader backed up a step. Then caught himself.
He couldn't show weakness in front of his crew.
"Finally!" He spread his arms again. "Now we can have a real conversation. Man to man."