Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 72122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Ronan wouldn’t try. He knew how to read people just like I did.
Tough, however, was still confused.
“You’re saying that you did all that?”
Ronan, upon first glance, didn’t ever strike anyone as the type of man who would do anything violent. He looked like a fuckin’ teddy bear and was always smiling.
It was the smile that got you. It’d gotten me quite a few times.
I’d never known he was mad until he’d struck.
“I’m saying that that little fucker killed my best friend,” Ronan said with his Irish lilt thickening. “I’m also saying that I killed him for killing my friend and his wife. I have a tape of the confession. Though, that came first. The rest came after he admitted all the awful things he’s done since he was released early from prison.”
Tough pulled out a set of handcuffs.
“Well then, I suppose it’s my duty to take you into the station and get this sorted out.”
With that, Tough led a handcuffed Ronan away, leaving me standing in the middle of chaos wondering if I was lucky enough for it all to be over.
Ronan stopped about halfway to the car, and turned.
Tough, not really thinking correctly at the moment, let him.
“The gun he used to shoot your woman is in the trunk of the car over there,” he nodded his head in the direction of a black sedan about halfway across the small parking lot. “And I found the spent shell casing, too.”
Exhilaration filled me.
“Thanks, Ronan,” I called to him.
He winked, causing my heart to warm.
My grandfather and grandmother, and I supposed Kenneth, now had retribution.
I hadn’t wanted them to die, but now we’d at least have attempted murder pinned on the man responsible.
The rest would soon follow.
Chapter 23
You know that moment when you close a cabinet door and you hear something fall? Yeah, that’s someone else’s problem.
-Fact of Life
Truth
Two hours later at the same hospital that Verity was in, I had a throw down with my president.
“I need fifteen minutes with him,” I argued with Big Papa and Aaron. “I won’t hurt him.”
“You better not,” Big Papa grumbled as he pushed up from his chair beside Beckett’s hospital bed. A bed that he was handcuffed to—at the wrists and ankles—a nearly similar situation to the one I’d found him in only two hours before. Though they’d left his dick and tongue alone.
Apparently, those weren’t the usual restraint methods that the hospital employed.
Aaron left, too. But only after receiving permission from me to leave Tank in Verity’s room while he ran up the road to have lunch with his wife.
Since he didn’t like leaving Tank in the car, and they were going into a semi-fancy restaurant, he’d decided it might be easier to leave Tank here.
“Don’t forget to give him water when you finally get back to Verity’s room,” Aaron said as he left.
I tipped an imaginary hat at him and turned back to the bed.
Beckett was awake and staring at me like one would a large pile of dog shit.
“What?” I asked, a smile overtaking my face. “Was there something that you wanted to talk about?”
He sneered.
“Tell me why,” I ordered.
Beckett smiled, and it took everything I had not to laugh at how ridiculous he sounded with a newly pierced hole in his tongue. “Why would I?”
That was followed up by a leer, and I clenched my fists tightly and bared my teeth.
I wanted to punch that smile off his face, but refrained. Barely.
The only thing keeping me in check was the promise I’d made to my president, after all.
“Because you’re not a coward. You’re an asshole, and a piece of shit, but you don’t run from shit like this. That would make you no better than a rodent…and we all know how much you hate being compared to rats.”
Beckett was phobic of rats. If there was one thing in this world that he was afraid of, rats were it. Something I’d be utilizing seeing as he was going to be spending a damn fair amount of time in the state penitentiary.
Though, he’d done that himself when he’d picked up that rifle and taken a shot at my woman. See, his bail prevented him from obtaining firearms, which was only a minor offense compared to his other offenses.
Like, oh…murder and attempted murder.
Unlucky for him, he’d left evidence behind, and now we had the weapon used in the attempted murder of my wife.
“Come on,” I cajoled. “Why don’t you just tell me for old time’s sake. Then we can reminisce on how much I hate you after you’re done explaining.”
Beckett turned his fat head away from me, causing a smile to overtake my mouth.
“Okay,” I said cheerfully. “The hard way it is.”
I walked over to his medicine pump that was feeding pain relief into his veins to keep him comfortable and started pressing buttons.