Mena snatched her hands from his grasp and stood. Michael rose from the couch, then stumbled down to one knee. His breathing labored, he stood but struggled to maintain balance.
“Just sign the divorce papers, Michael. Do that and I’ll stay here with you the entire weekend, I promise,” Mena insisted.
Michael snatched the papers and ripped them apart. “I didn’t know you had it in you to be so manipulative. You never had any intention of giving me a fair shot, did you? You just wanted to trick me into signing these fucking papers!”
Taking another step backward, Mena watched as Michael struggled to come after her. A few tentative steps and he collapsed down to the floor. Resting on his hands and knees, he resorted to crawling across the carpet until he slumped down in a heap.
“I trusted you,” Michael said.
Mena squeezed her eyes shut and took a shaky breath. What the hell was she supposed to do now? She needed to call Omar. No, she needed to get out of the casita—
A hand clasped around her ankle, yanking her forward.
Mena screamed. “Get away from me.”
“You owe me another chance,” Michael said. His eyes were dark and haunted. “I love you, Mena. Why would you do this to me?”
Mena kicked at Michael’s face, missing by inches, but freed her leg from his clutches. “You are delusional if you think I owe you anything. The only reason I agreed to meet you here was to get a divorce from you. I can’t stand the sight of you! I don’t want your love and I don’t want you!”
Michael flipped over onto his back and stared at the ceiling.
Unable to contain her rage and disappointment, Mena fought the urge to scream. The plan had been so simple. Trick Michael into signing the papers, then take them to Omar’s cousin in the PC-5 to have the divorce decree notarized. With the notarized documents, she could take them to be filed at the courthouse without Michael being present.
“Why won’t you just give me the divorce?” Mena demanded.
Michael glared at her. “Because you’re mine.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
The concrete walls closed in on Julian as he was led to a chair near the wall by the prison guard. Octavia Constant, his attorney, was already seated at the table. A single manila folder rested on the table in front of her. With clasped hands, she glanced up at him.
Julian slumped in the chair. He wasn’t expecting to get a visit from Octavia so soon after the depressing news she’d brought him on Friday. The weekend had dragged at a snail’s pace. He’d kept his mind occupied, learning how to stay below the radar with the prison guards. Avoiding Zak Webber had been next on the list, with Xander helping to keep him out of trouble so he wouldn’t murder the motherfucker. He had to keep his anger in check, or risk being thrown in solitary or adding to the charges already pending against him.
“Tell me you have good news this time.”
“Potentially,” Octavia said. “Des got back to me on his investigation of Whalum O’Keefe and Farouk Essa.”
“Those were the prison guards assigned to watch over Dumay, right? Your cousin found out one bought a house with cash and the other paid off his kid’s medical bills at the Rakestraw Blake Center,” Julian said, remembering their discussion from last week.
“Yes, and my cousin was on the right track. Des brought Whalum and Farouk in for additional questioning, and Whalum caved pretty quickly. He admitted to accepting a bribe,” Octavia said.
“You serious? He told the cops Dumay bribed him to leave her alone?”
“I didn’t say that.” Octavia lifted a hand and sighed. “He claimed he was given fifty thousand dollars cash by Farouk to leave Priscilla Dumay alone for thirty minutes at the end of the first day of the trial. He wanted the money, and he didn’t ask any further questions.”
“Let me guess, Farouk stonewalled and didn’t admit to anything,” Julian shook his head. One step forward and two steps back. He needed a real break.
“Quite the contrary. Farouk explained someone using a voice distortion device called him to make the deal. The caller assured him that Dumay would still be there when he returned to get her thirty minutes later,” Octavia said.
“He didn’t know who he was talking to, but he agreed to do it anyway?”
“Farouk said that immediately after the call, a woman rang his doorbell. She had the fifty thousand in cash and asked if he would accept the terms of the deal. He couldn’t walk away from that money with his son being so sick, but he knew he couldn’t pull it off by himself.”
“He needed to convince Whalum to go along with leaving Dumay alone,” Julian surmised.
“And when Farouk told the woman this, she left and came back to his home with another fifty thousand to give to Whalum. The rest is history,” Octavia said.
“But we don’t know who Farouk talked to or who the woman was that dropped the money off.”
