Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 107352 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107352 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
“All right.”
“Dar,” I yelled.
He jolted in his seat. “What?”
“We need tissues, man!”
His laughter as he scrambled to get them made me smile.
“Do you guys have bikes?”
“Yeah,” Tatum affirmed.
“We should ride after dinner. It’s good for the digestion.”
“That’s great and all,” Darwin said, blowing his nose again, “but I wanna eat more first, because your spaghetti is really good.”
“Oh, thank you.”
“Why did you throw the noodle at the wall?” Tatum wanted to know.
“Yeah, I wanna know that too,” Griff apprised me as the doorbell rang.
Everyone started to get up.
“No,” I said quickly. “I answer the door until further notice.”
Checking the peephole, I saw a woman there with a young girl—her daughter, given their resemblance.
“C’mere, Griff.”
He reached me quickly, and when I had him look out the peephole, he said, “That’s Christine Wilson, the chief’s daughter, with her mom.”
Of course it was. Taking a breath, having him step behind me, I opened the door.
“Luke, I—oh. You’re not Luke.”
“No, ma’am,” I said gently. “How may I help you?”
“Who are you?”
“Ma’am,” I rumbled, “how may I help you?”
“I—we’re here to ask Griffin if he—ohmygod,” she gasped, seeing his face. “Sweetheart, did Gerald do that to you?”
Griff turned to me instead of responding, and I was proud of him.
“Ma’am,” I began, “we’re not at liberty to discuss an ongoing investigation, so if that’s what you’re here for, we—”
“I lied, Griff, and I’m so sorry,” Christine barely managed to get out, hands over her face as she dissolved into tears.
I looked at her mother. “What did she lie about to her father, the chief of police?”
“She lied about who talked her into throwing the party at our house, and who was climbing out of her bedroom window at one in the morning when we got home.”
Christine sank to her knees on the porch, and her mother had her arms crossed tight, hugging herself, shivering in the chilly thirty-seven-degree breeze.
This was why being a fixer was never dull. Because along with the main event—protection, life-coaching, sober companion, and so on—there were regular life events that had to be dealt with. I was there to protect this family from a potentially nonexistent threat, but at the same time, through no fault of his own, Griff had a target put on his back by one of his classmates. She gave up Griff to her father because, I suspected, she’d be in much bigger trouble over whoever she’d actually had in her room.
“I’m sorry your home was trashed,” I told her. “And I’m sorry your husband made the decisions he made based on lies, but as you can see, Griff was badly hurt, and at this point, as I said, we cannot discuss an ongoing investigation.”
“You’ve always been so nice to me, Griff,” Christine continued to sob. “I’m so sorry.”
There were squealing tires then, and an Eena police cruiser pulled up in front of the house, followed closely by a sedan. One man got out of the cruiser—had to be the chief—and three got out of the other car. I did what was second nature and assessed all four men quickly, determining who was the greatest threat, to make certain I took that one out first. I wasn’t as worried once they were out of the cars. I had height and muscle on all of them, but there were still four of them and one of me. Surprisingly, the anger and volume that came from the chief were not directed at me.
“You stupid little slut! I’m gonna beat your ass!”
“No, Gere,” his wife pleaded. “Please don’t hurt her.”
“Stay out of this, Lori, or you’re fuckin’ next!” he roared, charging up the pathway.
Of course a man who beat a defenseless sixteen-year-old boy would also hit his wife and daughter. “Griff, take Christine and her mother inside,” I ordered, striding forward and shoving Lori behind me.
“Come on,” Griff barked, and in moments, I heard the deadbolt lock.
“You’re Nash, aren’t you?” Wilson thundered. “Well, you need to get the fuck outta my way or—”
“You’re not welcome here, and I’m warning you not to come any closer.”
But he didn’t listen. They never listened.
Originally, I was going to tussle with them in the front yard, which raised the odds on me getting hurt as well as leaving the front door unprotected, so I quickly scratched that idea. The concern then became, where best to make my stand. What amazed me was that they made it easy for me when they all started up the steps to the porch.
Between the stairs and the railing, they basically walked through a funnel to reach me. What that meant was that when Chief Wilson threw a punch at me, and I blocked it and then hit him, hard, with my right, his momentum hurled him backward into the others. It was like bowling, and when Wilson slammed into his buddies, the motion sent them all down the stairs together. Now, there were not a lot of stairs, only six in total, but still, to fly through the air and land on your back on the flagstones had to hurt. The fact that there was lots of moaning and whining told me the fight was over.