Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 76717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
I heave out a sigh. “You got your way. What the hell do you want?”
He smirks. “I filed a police report. Your boyfriend is going to be arrested for assault and battery.”
I glare at him. “Jason didn’t do this to you.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “And you know that?”
“Yes. I’m sure of it.”
“Oh? How are you so sure?”
I cross my arms. “Because he told me he didn’t, and I believe him.”
“You have no idea what you’re dealing with,” Ralph says. “The man’s no saint.”
“That man has seen more loss in his short lifetime than anyone deserves,” I say. “And now you want to make more trouble for him. What the hell do you have to gain by any of this?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” he says, closing his eyes.
“Yeah,” I say. “None of it makes any freaking sense. Why do you even care? Why do you care about me?”
“You’re a Steel,” he says.
I groan at that. “So, as I suspected. You’re after my money. You want me to pay you off not to file a report against Jason.”
“Oh, no.” He grins. “I already filed the report.”
“Did you?”
He lifts three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
I let out a scoff. “Scout’s honor? If you had any honor at all, you wouldn’t be doing any of this.”
“Yeah, I was never a Boy Scout anyway.” He drops his hand.
“Shocking,” I say, rolling my eyes.
He grins. Sort of. “But I did file a report.”
“You can also elect not to press charges,” I say.
“I could, but why would I do that?”
I grit my teeth. I’m so against paying anyone off. It’s never the answer. My family, with its wealth of resources, has been blackmailed many times, and our one rule is never to succumb, because it’s a never-ending cycle. Once you pay the person off, they can come at you again and again, demanding more money. Or they’ll tell their friends that you’re easy to get money out of, and soon you’re stuck in a cash-sucking spiral.
But I know Jason didn’t do this, and I won’t see him be arrested for something—God, go on trial for something—that he didn’t do.
So for now, I’ll at least make Ralph think I’m playing along.
“How much will it take?” I ask.
“You really think this is about money?”
I raise my hands in the air. “What the hell else is it about? I don’t have anything else you want.”
“But you do.” He narrows his eyes. “Didn’t I make that clear that night when I kissed you?”
My heart drops to my stomach.
“No way. I’m not going to bed with you. Hell, you probably can’t even get it up in this condition.”
But then my gaze is drawn to the tent underneath the sheet.
Fuck…
He nods toward his erection. “Most men are ready no matter what. It’s in our physiology.”
“Or maybe it’s just a symptom of some medication they have you on.”
“You think they’re giving me Viagra for my pain?”
“Viagra’s original use was as a vasodilator,” I say. “Maybe your blood pressure’s a little high.”
“Of course my blood pressure’s high. My body is stressed right now.”
“Which means it doesn’t need the extra stress of a sexual encounter.”
He laughs again, wincing. “Damn, that hurts, but it’s worth it. You really think sex is ever a stressor for men? Hell, it’s a stress reliever.”
I shake my head. “That’s not what I mean, and you fucking know it. You’re weak. Weak, Ralph. Your body’s been through trauma. So yeah, sex will be a stress.”
He shrugs. “Your call, Simpson. Climb on and take a ride, or Dr. Lansing goes to prison. And as pretty as he is, he won’t have much fun there.” He pauses a moment. “Unless he likes you taking the back door.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jason
I hold back a gasp. “What?”
“Yeah, I’ve got to go.”
“Wait!”
“What? I just lost my brother, man. I mean literally. Like an hour ago.”
An hour ago? My timing really sucks. “I’m so sorry. It’s just… Do you know a Ronny Burgundy?”
Breathing on the line.
At least he isn’t hanging up.
“Who is this?” he finally asks.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I should have identified myself. My name is Jason Lansing. I was married to Lindsay Davis, who was a classmate of Steve’s and Ronny’s.”
Another pause. Then, “Why are you asking?”
“It’s important,” I say. “Please. Did Steve ever mention him?”
Yet another pause, longer this time. “Yeah, he mentioned him a couple of times.”
“Do you remember anything he said about Ronny?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
“He didn’t talk about him much,” Tom says, his voice thick. “But I remember one time, he was drunk and started talking about how Ronny had disappeared off the face of the earth. Said it creeped him out how Ronny just vanished after high school.”
A chill rips through me at Tom’s words. “Did he ever mention where Ronny might have gone?”
“No. Then he couldn’t.”
“He couldn’t. Why?”
“Not after his accident.”