Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Coen came into my line of sight and grabbed me by both arms. “Hey, are you alright? You look like a ghost.”
“Is he okay?” I blurted. “What’s going on with him? Can I see him?” I refused to believe a single bullet would take down a strong man like Slate. His muscles were as thick as concrete. His bones were like steel. A single shot of metal couldn’t take him down.
Coen’s hair was a mess like he’d been fingering it constantly as he waited for news. “The bullet nicked an artery, so they took him to surgery. They’re removing the bullet, repairing the artery, and giving him blood transfusions. He lost a lot of blood, so they’re trying to stabilize him.”
It was worse than I thought. “Is he going to make it…?”
“No one has given me an answer.”
My knees suddenly felt weak and not because of the butterflies I usually felt when Slate was involved. I felt weak because I was broken. I hoped for good news, but all I received was horrific news instead. “He’s gonna make it, right? He has to…”
“I hope so, Monroe. Slate is tough…toughest guy I know.”
I nodded slightly, feeling the tears break the surface of my eyes and streak down my cheeks.
He pulled me into him and hugged me while nurses walked past us in the hallway. Family members held each other in the chairs against the wall. Doctors passed in their white coats. The speaker blared with an announcement every few minutes. I buried my face in his chest as I tried to block it out all out.
Coen held me like a brother, like a friend. He let me cry my heart out and stain his t-shirt with my tears. “We can’t lose hope. Not yet.”
“I know…”
“Slate will make it. I know he will.” He pulled away and wiped my tears with the pads of his thumbs, his own eyes wet with tears that he wouldn’t shed. “My mother has been so delirious, they had to give her a big dose of Xanax. She’s a mess.”
“Where is she now?”
“Asleep on one of the chairs. The surgery is going to be a few hours, so it was best to put her out of her misery.”
“So, what do we know about the asshole that did this?”
His eyes suddenly moved to the floor, like he couldn’t look me in the eye as he said the next part. He was ashamed, heartbroken, and crushed. “The man confessed to being hired by Simone. She wanted him to kill me so she could inherit everything I owned. Slate happened to be in my office alone when the man came in…mistook him for me.”
I was going to strangle that bitch with my bare hands.
“That should be me in there.”
“It should be no one in there, Coen. This isn’t your fault.”
“It is my fault. I should have listened to him about Simone… I shouldn’t have gotten involved with her in the first place. This is karma, and I deserve every bit of it.”
“That’s not true, Coen. The only person who deserves the blame is Simone—because she was the psycho that decided to ruin everyone’s lives. Don’t you dare take the blame on yourself. Slate wouldn’t want you to.”
“I know he wouldn’t…but if he dies—”
“Let’s not even talk like that.”
He nodded slightly. “You’re right.”
“What’s going to happen to Simone?”
“They’re searching for her. When they find her, they’ll make an arrest. With a direct confession like that, a clear motivation, and the fact that she’d been missing for so long, it should be a slam dunk case. She’ll be in prison for a long time.”
“At least she’ll get the punishment she deserves.”
“Yeah…I just can’t believe my ex-wife will be a criminal.”
“Life is crazy sometimes…”
“I’ll say.”
I rubbed his arm to comfort him. “I guess all we can do now is wait…and pray.”
21
Slate
My eyes fluttered open, and I saw the monitor beeping above me.
The doctor stood over me, his white coat in my line of sight. He flashed a light in my eyes and examined my face before he pulled away. “Mr. Remington, how are you feeling?”
I gathered I was in the hospital, but I had no idea how much time had passed. The last thing I remembered was being shot in my brother’s office. “Alive, I think.”
He chuckled. “You’re definitely alive and in good shape. We repaired the artery, did a few blood transfusions, and got that chunk of metal out of your chest. You’ll make a full recovery, but you’ll need to rest for a while.”
I’d forgotten that I’d been shot. The memory of that asshole with the gun came back to me. “Is my brother okay?”
“No one else was hurt. Just you, unfortunately.”
I opened my eyes wider and looked around the room, but there were no visitors. “Can I see my family?”
“Yes, they’re very eager to see you. I just wanted to check on you first. You’ll be free to go in the morning.”