Page 43 of Torched Spades
As usual…
However, just as I’m about to cut my losses and run away from my problems,as usual,I hearMeredith’s warning again.
“You want a different result, do something different.”
To hell with him.To hell with all of them.I won’t let another man drag me into his deception. This time, I’m standing my ground.
“I suppose congratulations are in order.” Shoving my insecurities aside, I step closer, my high heels firing like gunshots as I pull the letter from my purse. “My receptionist got this in the mail on Thursday. Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to reschedule today’s appointment; something I wasn’t aware of. However, I wasn’t aware of a lot of things, apparently.”
He folds his arms across his chest, the stance, once again, accentuating the hard contours of his biceps. “You going to dance around the point all night, or say what you came to say, Doc?”
“Not only did Meredith forget to inform me about the permanent time change, but it seems you did, as well.”
He cocks his chin, his expression changing with each rotation of the card.Flip. Smirk. Flip. Scowl.“My mistake. I wasn’t aware I had two probation officers.”
“Speaking of probation officers…” Reaching back into my purse, I pull out the envelope like a damn magic act. “This was postmarked on Wednesday,” I say, tapping my finger to the damning red ink. “If you got the promotion on Monday, as stated in his letter, then why would he wait two days to mail a request for a time change?”
“You’re reaching, Doc,” he says coolly. “But I’ll humor you. Even if he hadn’t waited, would it have mattered? It still wouldn’t have arrived before me. It’s the US Postal Service, not fucking e-mail.”
“Exactly. You’re just proving my point. I assume he, of all people, would know we meet on Tuesdays. With such a short window of time, shouldn’t he have just picked up the phone and called my office?”
“Maybe your receptionist forgot to tell you that, too.” The smug look on his face lights a fire in me that the second wave of peppered laughter only fuels.
“Okay, Mr. Malone, point taken. However, there’s still something I don’t quite understand.” I step closer, tipping my head to look him dead in the eyes. “How were you able to attend a two-thirty appointment after being promoted to first shift the day prior?” I hold my breath, waiting for another round of that cool apathy.
Instead, Johnny blindsides me with a hit I never saw coming.
“What does it matter, Becca? What are you going to do about it?” His lips part in a vicious smile. “Tattle on me to Daddy?”
His words are a rusty blade driven straight into my heart, and he knows it. He wants me to fall apart in front of everyone. However, this is one mind game I’ll be damned if he’ll win.
Gritting my teeth, I swallow his taunt. “I’m not five, Mr. Malone. Tattling is a childish act motivated by spite.” I fling both the letter and envelope at his chest. “I’m simply protecting my reputation by refusing to be made an unwilling accomplice in your forgery ring.”
His eyes darken, his tone all muddled syrup and crushed stone as his fingers wrap around my wrist. “Enough.”
The warehouse becomes a blur as I’m dragged up the stairs and into the foreman’s office. To my surprise, no one follows, not even Henry. Johnny doesn’t even stop to knock; he just flings the door open and walks inside like he owns the place.
“Alice, I’m going to need a few moments, please.”
I breathe a tepid sigh of relief. I’ve met this woman. A demand like that is going to go over like a sack of bricks. However, instead of lashing him with the same sharp tongue, she stands and gives him a warm smile.
“Need to get on out of here anyway, Johnny boy. You two kids behave yourselves.” Grabbing her coat off the back of her chair, she strides past us, slowing down just enough to catch my eye. “Remember what I said, sweets… Do better.”
With that, she walks out the door and closes it behind her, leaving me alone with a man with sin on his lips and the Devil in his eyes.
Chapter Fourteen
BECCA
I’m still processingwhat just happened when the distinct sound of lumbering work boots harmonizes with my own frantic heartbeat.
Then I hear the click of a lock.
Shit.
Spinning around, I see Johnny stalking toward me, and I stumble backward. His movements are the complete opposite, each measured step smooth and calculated until he’s so close I can smell the spice and burnt pine on his skin.
Any attempt at creating distance is pointless. There’s nowhere left to go. My back is literally against the wall.
