Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 160732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 804(@200wpm)___ 643(@250wpm)___ 536(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 804(@200wpm)___ 643(@250wpm)___ 536(@300wpm)
The side door to the garage opened and Raul, one of our electricians, and one of the biggest fans of my baked goods, was there.
It was breaktime and he’d come all the way from a job to have his cupcake.
Totally one of the biggest fans.
“Is everything okay?” Raul asked, seeing me pressed to the file cabinets and Nolan close to me.
“No!” I shouted. “No! Everything is not okay!” I looked up at Nolan. “Tell me,” I demanded, “exactly how he could pay on a life insurance policy when he has no money?”
Nolan was looking at Raul. “We need to talk alone.”
“We’re not going to talk alone,” I shot back and looked at Raul. “Please, Raul, don’t leave.” Raul nodded, his eyes alert, and I turned back to Nolan. “Now, answer me.”
Nolan’s attention returned to me. “Clara, you need to ask him to go away.”
“No!” I screeched. “Answer me! What’s going on?”
I heard Raul say, “Find Buck,” but I kept my eyes on Nolan.
Nolan spoke to me.
“He knew about the cancer before the trial started. Before he even got arrested.” He paused, a significant pause I didn’t entirely understand because my mind was reeling, before he finished, “From the very beginning.”
I closed my eyes and looked to the side.
“Oh God,” I whispered. “I can’t believe this.”
“He was worried things were getting…” I opened my eyes and looked at him, “hot, so he contacted me and made arrangements. We…” he looked at Raul who hadn’t moved, then back at me, “made arrangements with some of the money. Put it in a place they couldn’t find it and they couldn’t claim it. When Rogan dies, you’ll get that money too.”
I shook my head. “I don’t believe this.”
“It’s true, Clara. I told you to stick by him, and I told him, when you didn’t, to scrape you off, but he flatly refused. Now he’s dying, and it’s all coming to you. The five million insurance and a million and a half that’s sitting in an account in what I will share only is an undisclosed location.”
Six and a half million dollars.
Six and a half million dollars!
Six and a half million dollars, and a month ago I was in ecstasy just to eat a Pop-Tart.
I kept shaking my head, whispering, “Why didn’t you mention any of this during the trial?”
“Because he told me not to.”
Why would he do that?
Why?
I had no idea if it would help, to reduce his sentence at least.
But even if it wouldn’t, he should have tried.
“All that money is free and clear,” Nolan told me. “The cops can’t touch it. The Feds can’t touch it. It’s yours. At least the divorce made that part easier.”
I stopped shaking my head and glared at him, feeling more bodies entering the room and ignoring them.
“First, that money is not his. It is not mine. It belongs to hundreds of people who are scrambling to make up their pensions before they retire. Second, did you, or Rogan, ever once think of letting me in on the knowledge there were funds available before my life unraveled because Rogan is a toad and a criminal and a cheat? And before I found myself in a place where I could have died because I was desperate? I mean, my car got repoed, and I got beat up by a sociopath!”
I ended my diatribe shouting.
“What the fuck’s goin’ on?”
I turned my head to see Buck had shoved his way to the front of the bunch of rough and tumble electricians, drywall guys and bikers who were filling the small room.
“Guess what, honey. My ex is about to die and he’s going to leave me six and a half million dollars. Now we can buy that island we always wanted,” I stated with saccharine sweetness, and Buck’s eyes narrowed on me then they moved to Nolan.
“You wanna tell me who you are?” Buck asked.
“Not particularly,” Nolan, clearly not good at reading body language nor having a keen sense of self-preservation, answered.
“All right, I’ll give you that,” Buck said in his quiet, venom voice. “Now I’ll ask you to get outta my old lady’s space, and you better have a different answer.”
Nolan’s brows went up. “Old lady?”
“Move the fuck away from Clara,” Buck growled.
“Jesus,” Nolan muttered, taking a step away, his lip curled again.
Buck crossed his arms on his chest and his eyes came to me.
“Toots, talk,” he ordered.
I threw an arm out to Nolan. “Buck, this is Nolan Armitage, Rogan’s slimeball attorney.” I threw an arm out to Buck. “Nolan, this is West Hardy, president of the Aces High Motorcycle Club and a decent human being. You don’t meet many of those, so before you go, you might want to take a picture.”
Some of the men in the room chuckled.
Buck and Nolan did not.
Neither did I.
My gaze went to Buck. “Rogan has cancer. Apparently, he’s had it awhile. Unbeknownst to me, he set things up to take care of me. He hid a bunch of money and has a huge life insurance policy. All of it comes to me on his death, which, Nolan reports, is imminent.”