Chapter 10

Two Years Later

Damon

"You could just shoot him," Cameron argues, shooting a small plastic basketball through a hoop hooked up to the back of his son's bedroom door. I run up, grab the ball and sit back on a Spiderman comforter before making my next shot. I sink it, of course.

"You're my lawyer," I chastise. "Shouldn't you be telling me to commit fewer crimes?"

"Calista would like you out of our son's room," Cameron says.

"Calista is a raging—"

"Watch it!"

I roll my eyes and fall back on the bed I've been sleeping on for the last two months. "Moretti took all of my money while I was rotting away in a cell for a crime I didn't commit and dear old dad put a contingency in my trust fund when I was thirteen. I can't access it until I'm married or have worked at Salvatore Investments for seven years. Neither has happened, and it's not like I have a safe at Gringotts full of gold," I argue.

"If you'd kept me as your lawyer and not taken the court-appointed lawyer just so you could give the middle finger to the justice system, it never would've happened."

"Hindsight is a bitch."

We're both silent, listening to the shit music wafting in from the backyard. Calista is a fan of everything I hate, including boy bands.

"Even you admitted that I would've lost anyway," I argue. "Moretti paid for the re-election of the D.A."

Cameron nods regretfully. We don't address the elephant in the room, which is it was dangerous for him to take the job. Moretti would've killed him and his family. With my few remaining resources, I've hired people to watch his house. If he knew that, he'd flip, especially since I'm crashing in his kid's room.

"You could just…" he trails off. My best friend, the guy who visited me in jail every two weeks, is about to say something that will get his teeth knocked out. "Get married," he finishes.

I don't knock his teeth out because I'd like to think I've matured, instead, I throw the plastic basketball I'm holding at his face hard enough to leave a mark. I don't have to say anything, he knows.

"I get it," he laughs. "You're not getting married."

I grunt. Asshole.

"But Calista is now refusing sex until you leave."

And I've officially hit rock bottom. I thought it was when I slept feet away from a steel toilet after taco Tuesday dinner didn't sit well with my roommate, Bruce. I was wrong. It's getting kicked out of my best friend's kid's room because his bitch of a wife hates me.

"She lied about Britney," I argue. "I'd never fuck her in your kid's room, you have to know that."

"I think if you actually took Britney up to Mike's room, she would've dried up like the Sahara."

I nod. So true. The Spiderman sheets and collection of Magic Treehouse books are a lady boner killer.

"I'll leave after the barbecue," I promise.

Silence while I stare at the plastic glow in the dark stars decorating the ceiling.

"If you'd let me sell…" Cameron starts.

"No," I interrupt. He doesn't get it. Clearly.

"It's a place to stay," he argues. "You paid for it in cash and it's just sitting empty."

Another family living in that house? Another kid curled up on the porch swing reading some Babysitters Club book? Some lovesick dopey kid climbing up the garden trellis to sneak into the girl he loves room? I wasn't going to let it happen. I'd rather light it on fire.

"It's not like Elena is coming back," Cameron voices what I already know. "She's dead in the eyes of the U.S. Government, Giuseppe made sure of that. The right people know she's dead. She's probably found her Uncle John and is with him."

I run my hands through my hair and fall back on the bed. It would be nice to sleep in an adult bed. I don't think I've had a good night's sleep since before the trial.

"You know, I thought she actually died," I confess. "That's what dad and I were arguing about that day. He told me I was in too deep with Moretti and he didn't trust me. Can you believe that?"

"Giuseppe never liked Moretti, for obvious reasons."

Isabella. Dad's greatest love. Moretti killed her and I invited Moretti into our house. Jesus. Dad was right.

"Dad told me Moretti wants New York. He never forgave the Giovanni or Russo family for what they did to him. As long as Elena is away from him and his desire for revenge, I'm glad she's far away from the U.S."

I sit up and gather my remaining items.

Cameron sits in the rocking chair he and Calista used to use to rock Mike asleep. "Where are you going to stay?"

"Tiny owes me a favor." I start throwing my clothes in a duffle.

"Stay for the barbecue," Cameron offers.

I grunt. "Those people you call friends are afraid of me. I'll pass, thanks."

"Stop sharing stories about your two-year stint in jail with kids around."

"Punch a bully before he punches you is great advice."

"Mike was suspended from school for punching another kid," Cameron argues.

"Hey," I shout. "That kid was being a little shit to Mikey. He had it coming."

"Didn't exactly win you points with Calista."

"Fuck if I care."

"You've left me out of the loop," Cameron says, changing topics on me so fast it practically causes whiplash. "I know you're planning something."

"You're not my lawyer anymore, so don't worry about it."

"I can help, Damon."

Not after what happened when I was arrested. Cameron was attacked and his family was threatened. I'm not putting him through that again. I know that's the real reason Calista hates me. She thinks I dragged Cameron down with me and she's right.

"You gave me a place to stay and you're the only person that believes I didn't kill my dad," I explain. "You've helped enough."

"You got off," he comments.

"Only because that video surfaced."

I'd been in jail, trying to appeal the death penalty conviction. I should have a fucking law degree with the amount of research I did. I was lucky one of dad's friends agreed to walk me through the process. Not to be my lawyer, because that was like asking to be a target, but we exchanged emails. Then a video was released on social media. It was CCTV footage of me leaving the mansion that night, but it also showed someone else leaving it- the person that was on the video used as evidence. Jasper Hughes, who conveniently committed suicide a year into my sentence. But the video was enough to create doubt and question my initial conviction.

While I was away, Moretti took full control of my dad's company. I realized what he was trying to do before he murdered my dad, which is why he did what he did. He wanted complete control of the largest port on the Atlantic and he wanted the clout that came with owning Salvatore Investments, a worldwide company.

Now Moretti has complete board support because he's making them so much money. He went to great lengths to make sure I was left with nothing. Going as far as to have my childhood home demolished. I think he's building a luxury apartment complex on the remains.

I was stupid and I was arrogant and didn't see any of what he was really planning coming. It wasn't until I realized he donated heavily to the DA's campaign that I knew I was fucked. Moretti paid off any and everyone associated with my case, including the media who painted me as an entitled rich kid with anger issues. I think Moretti even paid my court-appointed attorney to sleep through the trial.

If it wasn't for that video, I'd still be in jail, trying to put together a case to get me off. The thing is, I can still be arrested. I can still be brought up under other charges because the DA is still in Moretti's pocket. Which is why I've been lying low until I have a concrete plan.

"Damon," Cameron says, using that voice he used right before I fired him. "Domenico Moretti is the most powerful person in Mystic Falls, and is slowly taking over territory up and down the eastern seaboard. I know you hate asking for help, but you need it."

I plan on getting my dad's company back and killing Moretti with my bare hands, not something I want to involve a friend who has gone through hell because of me. I was hesitant to stay with him but considering he was the one that picked me up from the Falls County Maximum Security Prison, I didn't exactly have anywhere else to go.

"I'm good," I reiterate. "You know me, I somehow figure things out and tend to land on my feet."

"You said that before this whole thing started and you ended up on death row," Cameron offers, dryly. "At least contact my friend when you get to California."

"How did you know I was going to California?"

He quirks an eyebrow. "The only way to regain control of your dad's company is to buy up shares and convince the board you're not the teenage shit who used to hotwire cars and throw parties with strippers. Winston Fawcett is on the board and happens to own the 35% of the shares. His daughter is getting married next week, at their home in Montecito."

I zip up the duffle. "You're wrong about something."

"What's that?"

"I don't give a flying fuck what the board thinks."

Cameron reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. He takes out a card and hands it to me. "Alaric is a close friend from law school."

I look at the card. "Saltzman Brothers Ranch."

"I never said he finished law school," he defends.

With the edges of the business card between my index finger and thumb, I spin it and then flick it with my other index finger back at Cameron. "I don't need a law school drop out's help."

"You are such a stubborn asshole." Cameron reaches to the ground and picks up the card. "He dropped out because his dad had a heart attack, so he went back to Santa Barbara to help out at the family ranch."

"And you think he can help me?" I ask, skeptical at best.

"Called him this morning. He's offering you a room at his ranch while you're there for the wedding."

I grunt. I'd ordinarily be able to stay in one of the Salvatore International hotels. Fuck. Dad's rolling over in his grave. Everything he built is in the hands of his murderer. "Fine," I groan.

Calista screams at Cameron to start the grill. "Meet me down there when you're ready, yeah?"

When I continue gathering my remaining items without answering. He sighs heavily. "Say goodbye to Mikey before you leave."

I glance up at my friend as he turns the doorknob to leave. "Hey," I call out. "Thanks."
"A thank you from Damon Salvatore?" Cameron says sarcastically, pressing his hand over his heart dramatically. "Are you dying?"

"Aren't we all slowly dying?" I reply with a smirk.

Cameron shakes his head and leaves.

XXX

Heidi slides next to me in my booth at the Dancing Pony. Music pounds through the speakers while half-naked dancers swing from poles and give overweight and overly eager middle-aged men lap dances. The air smells like stale cigarettes and coconut tanning oil and I'd love nothing more than to leave.

Heidi tugs at the sparkly top of her dress and looks around nervously. She knows I'm about to call in a chit. "Tiny said you're staying upstairs."

I nod, drinking out of my tumbler.

"You got out. How does freedom feel?"

I take another drink and ignore her nervous chit chat. "I need you to do an Afternoon Delight with this guy."

I slide my phone to her and she looks at it. "The D.A.?"

"Ezra Allingham is a regular, shouldn't be hard."

"How much?"

I know what she's getting at. I sit and wait her out, letting her deal with that question in silence. Well, as silent as a strip club at peak hours can be.

"You owe me," I remind her. "We'll call it even if you can email me the photos by next Wednesday."

"Fine."

"There's one more thing."

"You just said—"

"How much money did you make off of me when you first started working here?"

Heidi rolls her blue eyes at me and slams her palm on the table in frustration. "What in the hell do you need?"

I take a tiny device out of my pocket sealed in a small plastic bag. "I need that in Moretti's office at Salvatore Investments."

"How in the fuck am I supposed to do that?"

"His secretary is Alexandra," I tell her.

Her mouth drops in surprise. "Candy?"

I take another drink and slowly nod.

"How did you manage that?"

I shrug. "Moretti likes redheads and she was tired of working the pole."

"There's nothing wrong with working the pole," she defends.

"Never said there was."

Heidi slumps her shoulders a little. "You were going to give me a job at your company but then you got yourself arrested and—" she pauses looking around. Her eyes land back on me and she lifts a shoulder. "I like it here."

"Tiny said you want to buy it."

"I've thought about it," she shifts in her seat. "Why can't you just ask Candy to do your favor?"

"I don't trust her to do this."

She takes the bag and looks at it.

"It'll stick under his desk," I explain.

Heidi sighs and sticks it in her overflowing bra. "This isn't the end of your favors is it?"

"Moretti owns three strip clubs in Falls City. If you help me out, I'll give them to you when I take over and throw in the Dancing Pony as a bonus."

Heidi blinks and gives me a look of surprised pleasure. "Done."

She moves out of the booth. "Gotta get back on the floor. I'll talk to you soon, Damon."

Heidi pulls up the bottom of her sparkly pink dress and moves with a sway of her hips before walking backstage to get ready for the next song.

After a few minutes, Tiny sits down in her place and rubs his bald head. Tiny is not tiny but he is wearing a black shirt that is way too tiny and I tell him so the moment he sits down. After he's done telling me to fuck off, he orders a drink.

As bouncer for the Dancing Pony, he sees a lot and has been a valuable ally. "The club is going to be busted in a couple of days." He looks like he's about to flip the fuck out. "You'll be fine. The club will be fine. One of the guests that night won't be."

"How do you know he's going to show?"

"He's a regular on the nights his wife has bible study."

Realization dawns on him. "Fucking Castor Gates?"

The one and only. One of the easier to manipulate board members because he was appointed by Moretti. Everyone has a secret and I intend to find and use every single board member that's not loyal to my father's legacy and when I'm done with those fuckers, I'll start plucking off the ones that betrayed my dad.

"News crews will be here to film the coverage. Should give the club some publicity."
"Bad publicity."

"Well, you know what they say. There's no such thing as bad press," I comment.

Tiny sighs heavily. "You okay with the room upstairs."

"I won't be here long."

He plays with the straw in his drink and looks as me as though something just occurred to him.

"Hey, whatever happened to Wonder Woman."

Elena.

"She died," I lie. "Car accident."

Tiny actually looks upset. He wipes his eyes with the palms of his hands. I didn't realize Elena had that effect on him. "I'm sorry, man."

I shrug, trying not to think about it because I really did lose her. I'll never see her again. Her long legs will never wrap around my waist again and I'll never get to spend hours losing myself in her. I can't think about it because if I do, I start wishing I kept her here. Or worse, I'll go get her and drag her back.

"You have my cut?"

Tiny nods and hands me a folded up envelope out of his back pocket. I open it up and thumb through the bills. Smartest decision I ever made was privately investing in this place when Tony was in trouble. Tony runs the business end while Tiny takes care of most everything else. I have other side businesses, but it's not enough to start buying up shares of SI.

"Don't put Heidi on the floor. I don't want her near this bust," I tell him.

He nods. "Fine."

"Get one of the new girls to give him a private show and send me the security footage."

I hand him a bag of Chirow. "Have her plant that on him or better yet, get them to do it together."

"Are you trying to get this place shut down?"

I laugh and take another drink. "No, the Dancing Pony will be fine, trust me."

"Uh-huh," he grunts.

I look at the door and see my next appointment. Tiny follows my line of sight. "Christ," he groans. "Can't you hold court somewhere else?"

"My office is currently being occupied by Voldemort."

"Making Harry Potter references?" He mutters. "Good to know two years in max didn't harden you."

"The biker knocked out and bleeding near the dumpsters would say otherwise," I comment.

"Yeah, I think I like this Damon more."

"Moretti needs to stop having his men follow me."

Tiny chuckles and slides from his seat to greet the woman who had the balls to make an appointment with me. He reaches the door and with his hand points to where I'm sitting. A woman with shoulder-length brown hair and piercing blue eyes dressed in a sleeveless black blouse and high waisted pencil skirt clutches the pearls around her neck and catching my eye, makes her way toward me.

She takes Tiny's spot, gracefully sliding in the booth. "If I knew we were going to be meeting here, I would've never come to you for help."

I raise an eyebrow. "Don't pretend you've never been here. According to security footage, you've dragged your husband from this club a number of times." I remind her. "You made this appointment, feel free to leave the way you came."

She glances at Tiny's empty tumbler and scowls. I motion for a waitress to take his glass. In black spandex ass shorts and a white tank top, the waitress leans over with a pad in hand, effectively shoving her tits in Carol's face. "Can I get you something to drink?"

Before Carol Lockwood can tell our server to put on something decent, I interrupt. "She'll have a glass of white wine, Tessa."

"Sure thing!" Tessa replies cheerfully. "You want another glass, Damon?"

I nod and she leaves. "This is your meeting, Carol. How can I help you?"

Carol doesn't say anything for a but continues to glance around nervously. I can tell something crosses her mind because she presses her lips together in a thin line and her eyes mist.

"Tyler," she whispers.

"I heard about what happened," I tell her. "I didn't like Tyler, but he didn't deserve to die that way."

Carol lets out a laugh in spite of herself and wipes a tear from her eye. "Tyler didn't like you either."

I shrug.

Tessa comes back with our drinks and Carol takes a sip before continuing. "The police don't know who planted the bomb."

"It's been two years. What did Liz say about it?"

Carol shakes her head sadly. "Liz is blocked from any investigation because her daughter was killed in the same explosion."

"Seems like she'd only work harder to find out who did it."

Carol takes another sip of her wine. "It's a local issue, FBI aren't touching it."

"So they blocked her from coming back to the force?"

She nods.

"They're corrupt assholes," I tell her.

"I know, that's why I wanted to talk to you." She takes a deep breath and looks around, checking to see if anyone can overhear us. She leans over and whispers. "I think Domenico Moretti is behind the bomb."

Probably.

"What made you come to this conclusion?"

She reaches into her purse and pulls out several sheets of paper. "I checked his phone records and he made several phone calls just an hour before the bomb went off."

I look at the numbers starting at the beginning of the day. In black ink, Carol wrote the names of who he was calling or who called him. Then there's a break and an incoming call with a U.S. area code that I don't recognize. The call lasts ten seconds, but what comes after is him calling Caroline twenty times in a row, obviously trying to get ahold of her. However, in between that is a phone call to…fuck. "Why is Salvatore Investments calling Tyler?"

The first three digits of the number are the same for all of the company's main office numbers.

"The same day, Tyler received a quarter of a million dollars from an SI shell company."

"Was Tyler working for them?"

"No, he was a junior partner at a law firm in Falls City."

"And he wasn't hired by the shell company?"

Carol sighs heavily and I know she's not going to have closure, probably ever. Figuring out how he died won't help give closure, because I know from experience that the pain doesn't go away, but it'll help me. Carol finishes her glass of wine. "He hated Mr. Moretti and what he's done to this town. He was working with the Founding Families council to get rid of him."

I lean back and rub my chin with my fingers. "Were he and Caroline together?"

"Tyler always had a soft spot for Caroline but he was seeing someone else at the time. Last I heard, they saw each other at the Founder's Parade a month ago."

I slide the papers back to her. "So how do you expect me to help you?"

"We have a common enemy," she tells me. "He stole your father's company and we all know you didn't kill Giuseppe."

I raise my eyebrows. "Where were you when I was on trial?"

Another heavy sigh. "I know you've never shown interest in the Founding Families, but only the founding families know about the council. If we came out in support of you, it would've outed the council."

"So let me get this straight," I say. "You want me to help you prove Domenico Moretti killed Tyler and Caroline, two members of the Founding Families when you were willing to let me die in jail for a crime you knew I didn't commit?"

"We don't want you to prove Mr. Moretti killed Tyler or Caroline, we want you to take your father's company back," she explains. "And yes, get justice for Tyler and Caroline in the process."

I pause, thinking over her words. Having the backing of the Founding Families, specifically their money, would help. However…

"No."

"No?"

"I don't owe you people anything. You want to know if Moretti killed your son, I'll tell you. He probably did," I explain with a shrug. "Tyler probably got in over his head and betrayed him. Caroline got caught in the crossfire. Salvatore Investments will be run by a Salvatore again, but I refuse to be indebted to people who turned their backs on me and my dad when we were at our lowest."

Carol straightens. "You need us."

I just laugh, downing the rest of the bourbon in my tumbler.

"I know Elena is alive."

I continue to laugh. "And? Are you willing to admit that you and the rest of the council committed fraud?"

How dare she threaten Elena. That was a huge mistake.

Her lips thin. "We can help you," she stands. "Think about it."

With that, she leaves. I drum my fingers on the table. This fucking town. I should take the money I have and run, but Moretti doesn't deserve my apathy. If I have to burn down SI and build it back up myself, I will. I'll do whatever it takes.