Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 173733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
“Do our receptionist?” I repeat dryly.
“As in Freddy Krueger-style, Reid. Wait her out once she’s behind bars or in a rubber room.”
“That’s exactly where she’s going.”
“To jail or a rubber room?”
“Jail,” I say, because I’ve been watching Debbie on our cameras and she’s putting on a show that I’m about to end. No one threatens my sister.
Chapter sixty-five
Reid
Iwalk into the conference room where Debbie is standing at the window. She turns and her lips part as if she expected some fifty-something man with a pot belly and a weak attitude. I shut the door and walk to the table, pressing my fingers to the desk. “What do you want?” I ask, sizing her up. She’s pretty, brunette, and all belly.
“What I deserve,” she says. “What my baby deserves. To be taken care of.”
“How many men have you fucked in the past nine months?”
“It’s his baby,” she snarls, leaning on the table to face off with me.
My lips twitch. She’s easily agitated. That works for me. “How many men have you fucked in the past two years?”
“Why? You want to join the list?” she challenges.
“There’s a list,” I say. “Interesting.”
“He’s the father!” she shouts at me, her cheeks flushing.
“How many times did you fuck Reese Summer?”
“Many.”
“When and where?” I ask.
“My place,” she says. “Often.”
“There are security cameras in your building. I checked. So you’ll be able to prove that. Make a call and get the videos.”
“I have no rights to that footage.”
“Offer the landlord a few perks and I’m sure you can work it out.”
“You’re such a prick.”
My lips twitch. “I love it when you talk dirty, sweetheart. It tells me all about you. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.” I head for the door.
“Come back here, asshole!”
I exit the office and leave her there to simmer and panic. She doesn’t have control. She won’t ever have control. I do. I have control. I will end this for my sister.
Cat
Court is delayed, and we aren’t told why. We just wait and wait and I start to worry the threats from Debbie escalated in some way, perhaps by way of an accomplice, and Reese had to delay the return. Thirty minutes into the wait, my phone buzzes with a text and I discretely check it to read a message from Reese: The judge is the delay. We don’t know why. I didn’t want you to think it was something else.
I’m touched and relieved that he’s thought of me, but I don’t want to feed his need to worry about me either which is why I refrain from asking what he knows about Reid and Debbie. He’d tell me if he knew anything. Thank you for telling me. That’s weird with the judge, I type instead. Is he with the prosecutor?
I’m told no, Reese replies. I’ll let you know if I get an update on anything.
I show the messages to Gabe and his brow furrows. “Maybe he has a woman in his chamber,” he jokes.
I scowl. “Did you really just say that?”
He nudges me. “Laugh, little sis.”
I laugh. “Okay. There. Happy?”
Finally, Reese and his team enter the courtroom and my nerves about what was happening before he entered, linger on the personal. Did Debbie do something else?
“He’ll be fine,” Gabe says, from beside me, as Reese settles at his table in the courtroom. “He’s a pro and he knows you’re safe. He’ll step into his zone.”
“I know,” I say, but Gabe and I both know there’s no way Reese isn’t affected by Debbie’s threats. He’s human. I look at Gabe and lower my voice. “Thank you. I need you and you’re here.”
He squeezes it. “From now on, Cat.”
I believe him when there was a time not that long ago I would not have. I still hurt over the way he and Reid treated me when I decided to go my own way, outside of the family business, but showing Gabe the letter mom left me, changed him. Maybe it changed Reid more than I realized, too.
The judge enters the courtroom and we all stand which has me wishing I was sitting. This baby wants me hanging over a toilet and I really can’t wait to get my meds. We sit and the judge wastes no time getting us started. The prosecutor takes the floor and I grab my notebook and a pen. He calls the medical examiner, a fifty-something, heavy-set man with gray hair and glasses, to the stand. The questions are basic but avoid all the damning topics. I write down what I expect Reese to ask and Gabe grabs the pad and reads my list.
He smiles and winks at me as if telling me how on target I am. I shouldn’t need his approval but he’s my older brother and for so long he and Reid were driven by my father’s anger at my independence and they didn’t even read my books. I hit the New York Times bestseller list for my first true crime novel, and if they had known, they didn’t act like it. It hurt. It stills does.