Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 68735 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68735 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Stoker obviously couldn’t catch the hint because he stayed and kept talking. “Or should we talk about how you left your mother crying in her room you’re refusing to pay for any longer, forcing her to go to a state-funded care facility that’s going to be a fraction as good as the one she’s in now? Forcing her to no longer get the care she needs after she tried to take her own life because of you?”
That’s when I lost it.
The client didn’t matter.
Him blaming my mother’s mental health on me, however, did.
I stood up so fast that my chair went flying from behind me, slamming into the wall with enough force to cause a crack to sound throughout the coffee shop.
Seconds later I was letting my fist fly, taking aim at Stoker’s jaw.
The crack of my fist connecting with his face was melodic to my ears.
I didn’t feel the pain of contact, either, because I was so enraged.
How dare he bring my mother into this? How dare he talk about my future wife as if he had a right to?
“Don’t talk about my fiancée,” I snarled. “And keep my mother’s name out of your mouth while you’re at it.”
“I’ll be pressing charges,” he said as he hung onto his jaw.
“Son,” my client said, “take it from me and just leave. You won’t win this. As the father of a doctor, I damn well know that you know you’re not supposed to be sharing patient information with anyone, let alone in public where there are plenty of video cameras recording your every move. Second, you talked about the man’s mother, who, what I gathered, is mentally ill. Not only is that a law you’ve broken, but you’ve shown you have lowered morals. A cop, judge and jury aren’t going to side with you on this. Plus, I’ve done my own research on this man. I know that he’s shelled out over eight million dollars to house his mother. And let me tell you something, that’s not chump change. Not everyone can afford to keep doing that for the rest of their lives.”
Stoker gave the old man an angry look.
“And if you don’t like them apples, you might should’ve stayed in your own lane.” Wesson crossed his arms over his chest. “You can leave now.”
Stoker did leave, flashing me an angry, sinister look that let me know that I wasn’t nearly done with him yet.
Great.
“Probably broke his jaw,” Wesson said as he took me in.
“Wish I would’ve broken his neck,” I muttered.
“I read up on you,” he said as he took me in. “Report I had run didn’t mention a fiancée, though.”
“The fiancée thing is new,” I admitted. “As in two days ago new.”
His lips twitched. “Fresh. When are y’all planning on getting married?”
I shook my head. “No clue. We haven’t gotten that far yet.”
“When you decide, send me an invite. I’d like to meet the woman who sparks that kind of anger in you.” He chuckled. “Now, let’s talk business.”
Twenty-Five
I’d share my cake with you.
—Creole to Audric
CREOLE
I was hesitant to answer the door, but when I saw the police officers through the peep hole, I did it despite my better judgment telling me to keep it closed and pretend like I wasn’t there.
I smiled hesitantly at the officers as I opened the door and said, “How can I help you officers?”
“Ms. Williams? Creole Williams?” the officer on the right asked.
“That’s me,” I confirmed. “How can I help you?”
The officers glanced at each other, then they reached for me at the same time.
I didn’t even have time to react before I was being grabbed by both. In one breath, I had my hands shoved behind my back. In the next, there were cuffs being placed around my wrists.
“What is going on?” I heard cried.
I looked up to see Eedie marching across the yard looking angry as hell.
“Who are you?” the cops asked at the same time.
“Eedie Webb,” she snarled. “This is my friend. What are you doing with her?”
“She’s being detained on a forty-eight-hour psych hold,” the officer to my right said.
“She is very uneasy around men due to a previous sexual assault, and they sent two men to do a psych hold on her when she’s fucking terrified? Look at her, she’s freaking the fuck out!”
Both men shifted uneasily.
“I would highly, and I do mean highly, suggest that y’all let her go. If she’s really under a psych hold, then send two female officers out here to do this,” Eedie, my new best friend, ordered.
I was about to have a panic attack, though.
All the good that Audric did, giving me the confidence to exist in a world with so many men all around me, went flying right out the window.
I was nauseous. I was sweating bullets. And I was crying.
I was literally so fucking scared that I was about to pee all over myself.