Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52639 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52639 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
“Oh, thank heavens. I’m sorry to bother you,” she says while still wobbling around everywhere. “I have to use the facilities.” She looks to the tower and over to the single hangar. “Is there a bathroom around here?”
“Bitch, piss your pants,” he replies giving her a death glare.
Is she deterred by his tone? No. This is Dia fucking Crews. When God made her, she got an extra dose of crazy fearless apparently. However, I did not. I’m freaking out inside and I’m sure it shows on my face. Dia, she’s cool as can be, like this is an everyday thing.
“Well, that isn’t very nice of you. We haven’t been disruptive. We’ve cooperated. My hands are stuck, and I would simply like to go into one of those buildings to find a restroom to relieve myself. I’m not asking to be let go or win the fuckin’ lottery.” She is bouncing from foot to foot like a young child trying to hold it, so they don’t have an accident. “I have to pee, and I would like to do so as a civilized woman and not pop a squat right here.”
“Not happenin’. Piss your fuckin’ pants,” he reiterates and goes back to pacing.
Dia keeps at her dance while he ignores us both. A blacked-out SUV comes down the air strip and Patrick O’Leary ends his call. He looks to me and smiles like a proud peacock. What the hell is going on? The vehicle comes to a stop in front of him. He opens the back door behind the passenger seat. My mother steps out.
She isn’t shackled.
She isn’t disheveled.
She looks healthy.
She isn’t stressed.
She isn’t crying.
All the things I have imagined her being, and she isn’t visibly any of them. What in the absolute hell is going on?
She looks put together. Makeup is stellar and hair is back in a tight chignon. She approaches in her purple pantsuit with her red pumps and not a hair out of place. Patrick O’Leary follows behind her looking around as they go. He actually seems more intense and invested in the atmosphere than she is.
Anger consumes me. I’ve been played.
By my mother.
This whole time.
I should have known better.
How stupid am I?
Because of my bad decisions, Maritza has been shot, Hollis kidnapped, his mother dead, and now God only knows what will happen to Dia. If I am tortured or die, that’s okay, this is my mess. If Dia gets hurt in this, I’ll never forgive myself.
I gave up my entire life to keep my mother safe for nothing. There was never any danger to her, not then, not now. How the hell did this happen? How long has she known O’Leary? Was it really my dad and Reigns or my mother? In my process of healing from the gunshot wound, I didn’t ask many questions. Struggling to get through the changes in my life and body, I didn’t care.
I should have.
She stops in front of me, and Dia ceases her pee-pee dance going on alert at the presence of my mother. “You know this woman?” she whispers. I nod, but don’t speak.
“Emmalee,” she greets leaning in to kiss my cheek. “It’s good to see you.”
I jerk back. This isn’t some family reunion. What in the actual fuck is wrong with her? How is this shit happening. She can’t say anything that any of this is good. Yet, she’s standing here like this is a natural visit. I can’t hold it in as the words tumble from my mouth. “Good to see me? Handcuffed. You like to see me like this. Confused, scared out of my mind. I did everything you asked. Everything the man on the phone asked. One step at a time, I gave up my life and did all of this and you say it’s good to see me. My dad was into God knows what, he gets killed in front of me. I get shot and expected to die. You’re gone like the damn wind!” My shoulders twist wildly because I usually talk with my hands, and I can’t move them right now. “You called me. You said they had you and I needed to get away from the Hellions. You said in time I could go back but to keep you safe I had to get away from the man I love, the family who got me through the worst days I’ve ever experienced. I gave it all up so you could be safe. I’ve lived clueless for months and months waiting on a fucking phone call that didn’t come.”
She slaps my face. “Language,” she shouts at me.
“Fuck you,” I spit.
She slaps me again. “You will not speak to me like that. I am your mother.”
“What do you want from me? You have ruined my life. You called. You said you needed my help. Your life depended on it. You aren’t hurt at all. You lied!” I don’t know what else to say. I can’t process this.