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My stomach contracts like a fist has landed dead center.He needs more than you.
Yes, yes he does.
Always has—and I could have given him more. Now, I’m all he’s got.
Just because fate delivered the short end of the stick to my precious son, that sure as shooting doesn’t mean I have to take this man’s garbage.“Leave.”
His chin juts. “Not until you listen to reason.”
I lift my chin right back. “So now I’m an unreasonable woman?”
“Took the words right out of my mouth.” Big arms crossing, he stares down his nose, then opens his mouth for an encore.
My finger stabs the air like it’s the Space Needle.Watch it…
His mouth wisely closes—but attitude drips onto the pavement along with the misty rain. Oh, boy, he must be a joy to work for.
His hands slap to his sides. “So you can’t even take a business card?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Because then you’ll think you’ve won.
Oh no. I am stubborn, aren’t I? Well, I’ve come this far. “Leave.”
“Hollie.”
“Get off my property.”
His face blanks in a way that, once again, I can’t read. Is he thinking that no, this grand place we stand in the rear of most certainly isn’t mine? That I’m a nobody who’s lucky to live on the fine side of town? “Now.”
He stares me down—down at me. But I don’t have to do what he says, the arrogant jerk. I’m not one of his stupid agents he gets to boss around.
His throat makes a noise of frustration and probably some disgust. “Have it your way, Hollie.” Backing toward his vehicle, he flicks the card in my direction.
It lands with both a whisper and a thud on the toe of my ugly shoe.
Chapter 6
Hollie
Throwing myself onto my side, I take another shot at finding comfort, and hopefully, sleep. The last flip was pointless, but at least this way I’m staring at the moonlight through the drapes and not the stupid clock, or the table with my phone, taunting me to check and see how horrible tomorrow is going to be.
Nights are terribly long…and never long enough. How is utter exhaustion not sufficient to send me into oblivion the second I close my eyes?
This is not a new problem—although it has worsened since that day I readChandor Policeon my caller ID. It’s deteriorated, too, in the several days since John’s disastrous visit.
My ungrateful outburst. He was only trying to help, indeed the very thing I requested.
But I didn’t mean help on someone else’s dime.
I sigh into the lonely room. Sure I did.
I hate being a needy person—but there isn’t a thing I wouldn’t do for my son. So, I will swallow my pride, eat crow, and grovel for a second chance at a good attorney.
How do I know the attorney in question is a good one? Because, though our acquaintance has been short, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the upright, uptight DEA agent wouldn’t settle for anything less. Women have instincts like that.
