Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
“That’s so fucked up. Poor kid. Damn I wish that sick bastard was alive so I could rip off his dick and fill the void with vinegar. Do his parents know?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think he was planning to tell them, but I have no idea what went down when he visited them.”
“Does he need anything? Clothes, toiletries?”
“Yes. He’s using some things they provided him with for now, but he asked if we could take him some stuff later. He has to wear their clothes, but I’ve got some shampoo, toothpaste, stuff like that for him in my room. We won’t be allowed to see him though.”
“No problem. Gather what he needs when you get back from his parents’ and we’ll head straight over there.”
“Great. Thanks. Thank you for everything.”
“It’s what family do. Or what they should do. Can’t understand what’s going through the minds of his asshole parents.”
“Guess we’ll soon find out.”
After finishing up our conversation, Sawyer left the room to get showered and changed. He called Elle, and just like he said, she answered and told him to turn up at the salon whenever he liked. He also called Ivan to bring him up to speed, and just like the rest of us he was worried out of his mind.
Jake returned around half an hour later as planned, and we waited for Sawyer to finish getting ready and set off to the salon before we left ourselves. The hotel grounds were clear from press and photographers when we reached it and we slipped into his hire car without running into any problems.
With the help of satellite navigation Jake took us straight to Ryder’s parents’ house. I went to open my car door as soon as we arrived but he stopped me, wanting to take a few minutes to survey the area from where we sat.
“Somebody’s home,” Jake noted, nodding toward the house. “I just saw some movement. Let’s go.”
My legs felt like Jell-O as I stepped out onto the sidewalk and I had to make a conscious effort to slow my erratic breathing, drawing long, deep breaths into my lungs. Jake, however, didn’t look the slightest bit nervous, striding up to the door with his usual confident and determined swagger. Just like his expression, Jake’s knock was firm. It took only a few seconds for the door to open and when I saw the small woman standing on the other side, I had no doubt I was looking at Ryder’s mother. She had Ryder’s green eyes, the same color hair as his untouched roots…
“Mrs. Richardson?” Jake asked.
“Yes,” she answered quietly, confusion forcing her brows together.
“Can we come in? I’d like to speak with you about your son.”
“Ryder? Is he okay?” she asked, sounding genuinely concerned.
“Not exactly. Can we come in?” Jake repeated.
“Um, I was just leaving actually.”
“It’s very important.”
“Okay, just for a few minutes though.”
She stepped aside and we walked past her, following her gestured hand toward the living room. There were two suitcases and a black bag stacked neatly at the foot of the staircase, which made me think when she said she was leaving she meant moving out. Jake took a seat on the couch so I followed suit. Shortly after, Ryder’s mom joined us, sitting down on the armchair opposite.
“What’s wrong? What’s happened to him?” she asked, her voice flooded with panic. It puzzled me that she seemed so concerned. If they were rebuilding their relationship, why did Ryder go off on his own and get himself into this mess?
“Your son’s in prison,” Jake told her.
“Prison?” she gasped, throwing a hand over her mouth.
“He was caught in possession of Class A drugs.”
“Not again,” she muttered, shaking her head.
“I know he came to see you and your husband a few nights ago. Did that meeting end well?”
Tears welled in the back of her eyes and she lowered her head. “No. No it didn’t.”
“Can you tell me what you talked about?”
“No!” she protested. “I don’t think that’s any of your business. I don’t even know who you are!”
“We’re friends, and we’re trying to get Ryder out of this mess, but we can’t do that without knowing what got him in it in the first place.”
“If you’re really his friend, you’ll know he has a history of drug abuse. There’s nothing more to it than that.”
“He’s been clean a long time, Mrs. Richardson. I want to know what could’ve caused him to start using again.”
“I don’t know.”
“I think you do.”
Holy shit, Jake was intense. It made me feel uncomfortable at how harshly he was interrogating her as if she was some kind of suspect, but I also trusted that he knew what he was doing.
“We argued. Bad things were said,” she muttered, rubbing her crossed, defensive arms up and down with her hands.
“What things?”
“Bad things. Look, I really don’t know how I can help him. I need to leave before my husband gets home.”