Page 137
I set the sandwich down carefully. “And Connor?”
“Connor is out.”
“Out of…?”
“The house. He left it Wednesday night,” Kane says. “He’s staying with his father in Bay Ridge. His things are gone. He didn’t take anything he wasn’t entitled to, because he was told what would happen if he did.”
I shake my head, refusing to believe it. “There’s no way in hell he went that easy.”
He smirks. “Men agree to many things when properly motivated.”
I look down at the greasy wrapper. Then I pinch my thigh, just to test out a new theory I’m developing.
But I don’t wake up.
Maybe this isn’t a dream after all.
“Let me get this straight: You evicted my husband before sunrise on New Year’s Day?”
“Your former husband.”
“He isn’t former until the judge stamps something.”
“I’m an optimist.”
I stare at him.
He stares back.
The green eyes are calm, almost bright. I’m curious what other kinds of potentially felonious things he’s gotten up to this morning to kick off the New Year, but I’m scared that he might answer honestly.
“What did you do to him?”
“Nothing permanent.”
“Kane!”
“He was given time to pack.”
“How much time?”
“Enough.”
“That is not a valid unit of measurement.”
“He’s alive.”
“That’s a very low bar.”
“It’s the only one that interests me where Connor Boyd is concerned.”
This is all too much. It’s domineering. It’s presumptuous. It’s crazy!
But if “crazy” gets that cheating parasite thrown out of my real estate…
Do I care?
I don’t know. My head hurts and I’m very tired. A girl can only take so much when there’s alcohol currently ruining her body from the inside out.
