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"Does she have any family?"
"Just an aunt, but she's clearly doing a shit job of looking after her."
"Okay, so should I call social services or..."
"No, she stays here."
James leans forward, his elbows on his knees, his fingers steepled. "Here?"
"I mean, yeah... no... I don't know. But she's not going into the system, and she's not going back there. That's all I know."
"When is she eighteen?"
"Next month."
He nods.
"Why? What are you thinking?"
"Leave it with me.” A faint smile traces his lips. “I have some favors to pull."
"What does that mean exactly?"
"It means exactly what I said. Leave it with me."
"So now what?"
He shrugs. "You said you know her better than anyone, so I guess only you know the answer."
He pushes from the couch, pulls his cell from his pocket, and has it to his ear before walking from the room, leaving me surrounded by his walnut office furniture and fancy fucking books.
Needing to get out of the room, I follow his lead, but not before a bottle of amber liquid catches my attention on one of his shelves.
"Fuck it," I mutter, swiping it from its place. If it's hidden up here then it's got to be the good stuff.
As I hit the bottom of the stairs, I glance to my right. It would be so easy to march back up there and demand she talk to me, but I know it's not going to get me anywhere. I wasn't lying when I said I know her, and one thing I know is that she's a stubborn ass.
With the bottle in my hand, I make my way out the front door before dropping down onto one of the stone steps.
I twist the top and lift the glass to my lips. The first shot burns, but I instantly know that this isn't cheap stuff. It's so fucking smooth.
Pulling the bottle back, I look at the label. It's Macallan, but other th
an knowing it's expensive shit, I don't know much more about it. We didn't often find bottles of the good stuff lying around in the Heights.
I have no idea how long I sit there watching the sun go down, sinking into the ocean on the horizon, but my ass is numb and my head is spinning.
I was hoping that the whisky might have helped to remove the images my imagination have been conjuring up since I pulled Kenny into my arms when Jay first dropped her off. The thought of him touching her, hurting her...
My teeth grind and my grip on the bottle tightens with my need to go and find the motherfucker and teach him a lesson of my own.
But James is right. I need to know for sure it was him.
I assume that no one knows I'm here, so when the front door opens and Hadley steps out as if she's expecting to see me, I wonder just how good my hiding spot was.
I should have gone down to the beach, but I didn't want to go that far away in case she needs me.
A sad laugh rips from my lips. She doesn't need you. She doesn't even want you near her.
