Phil glanced around, maybe hoping for a way to escape, but Stack had him cornered. Cautiously, he struggled back up to his feet. “I just got it.”
From the same dope dealer Phil had paid to hire the attackers? Probably.
Playing along, Stack asked, “And the weed?”
“I bought it right before she told me to get out.” Knotting his hands, Phil argued, “This is my shit! She has no right to keep it from me.”
“The clothes, sure. I agree. You can even have the weed.” He sure as hell didn’t want it left behind in his sister’s home. “But her jewelry? Is that how you managed it? You been selling Tabby’s stuff for cash?” Was that how he’d paid the attackers?
“What? No.” Phil breathed harder. “I had her jewelry there to get it out of my way.”
Stack laughed. “You are such a pathetic liar.”
“Keep the jewelry. I don’t care!”
“Yeah, I’m keeping it.” Stack frowned in thought. “How’d you get in, anyway?”
“Landlord let me in. He knows I live here.”
Ah, yeah. That made sense. “Guess I need to get Tabby’s name off the lease, then you’re welcome to it.”
“I can’t afford this place! The lease isn’t up for another six months.”
Stack shrugged. “Either you get your name off it, today, or she will.”
He slumped. “I’ll do it.”
“I thought so.” Stack set the gun aside, well out of Phil’s reach, then nodded to the pot. “How’d you buy that?”
Now that Stack didn’t hold the gun, Phil regained some of his cockiness. “What do you care anyway? It’s just weed.”
“I don’t care—if you weren’t robbing my sister for it.”
“I didn’t rob anyone.” Phil bunched his fists.
“Right. I guess your supplier just gave it to you? The same guy that Whitney uses?”
Again Phil’s gaze darted around.
Interesting reaction to the mention of Whitney’s name. Stack sighed. “You’re busted, Phil. There aren’t enough lies to get you out of it. Just make it easier on yourself and own up to the truth.”
He took an aggressive step forward. “You want the truth? Fine. Your girlfriend gave me the money for the pot.”
“Whitney isn’t my girlfriend.”
Phil shook his head. “I meant Vanity. I got the cash from her.”
Like a sucker punch to the gut, the words knocked the air out of Stack. It took him a second to recover, and when he did his first reaction was denial. “Bullshit.”
“It’s true!” Cautiously, Phil inched closer to the pot, then lifted the bag. “I asked her for the money, she had the cash in her purse, and she gave it to me on the spot.”
If that was true, then maybe Whitney hadn’t lied. Maybe Phil was the one who’d paid for him to be jumped.
With Vanity’s money?
Fuck. How much had she given him?
Sickness burned in Stack’s stomach. He’d been played for a fool once before. Never again would he let that happen.
Drawing a deep breath, he stepped into Phil’s space. “Know what I think? I think you’re a fucking liar.”
“No, dude, I swear.” He backed up.
Stack let him retreat. He needed to clear his head, and he needed to stay focused. “The idiots who tried to jump me. You hired them?”
Like a cornered rat, Phil started to sweat.
Stack pushed him. “Now you want someone to kill me?”
“What?”
That reaction looked real enough, and it confounded Stack. “I was told you paid some dealer to arrange a hit.”
Before he’d even finished, Phil started babbling. “No! That’s nuts. Of course I didn’t do that. I wouldn’t. Yeah, we ain’t friends, but I’m not a murderer, man.”
“You paid guys to jump me.”
“To slow you down, that’s all. I swear! I wanted to hit up Vanity for the cash, and I knew if you were around, you’d nix it. That’s all.” Panicked, Phil stepped closer again. “She can afford it, man. I saw the wad of cash in her purse. She’s rollin’ in it. Not like she’s going to miss a few hundred dollars.”
Stack couldn’t picture it in his mind. Vanity and Phil together. Money exchanging hands.
Vanity never, not once, telling him about it.
“She was nice to me,” Phil continued. “Said I didn’t even have to pay the money back. Told me it was a gift. She—”