Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 36632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
No. You know what? Hell no. If I’d had an inkling of what my future held, I’d have taken care of this little problem with Gloria and told Sonya everything from the very beginning. Before I’d been in a situation to be alone with her. So this wasn’t my fault in the way it was handled. What was my fault was letting it go on this long.
I stomped inside the main clubhouse, not even bothering to calm myself. Bandit was behind the bar and gave me a chin lift when I shut the door. Took him a second to register the look on my face because when he did, he raised an eyebrow and picked up his phone. Probably to give Samson a heads-up there might be trouble.
“Shotgun!” I yelled as I went deeper into the structure toward the tech officer’s command center, as he loved calling it.
“Yo, Angel. In here,” Shotgun called from the room across from his office. Looked like he was expanding or something. Or could be he and his kids needed a bigger game room. Could go either way.
“I need you to look into someone. Right now.”
Shotgun gave me a curious look but was also all business. He led the way across the hall and sat at his desk, clicking a few keys on his keyboard. “Wassup?”
“Gloria Turcot.” I gave Shotgun her birthdate and social security number. “Look her up.”
He typed as he talked. “She the viper out front?”
“Yep.” I waited to explain further until Shotgun glanced at the initial results.
“The fuck? Colm Flynn? Gloria Turcot is… your wife?” Shotgun shoved back from the desk and stood so fast he nearly knocked over his chair. “Your fuckin’ wife? And you and Sonya --”
“Keep looking.” I pointed at the computer screen, interrupting him before he could give me the beating he thought I deserved. “You tell me what you find, then we’ll talk about my beatin’.”
Shotgun gave me a wary look. “How’d you know I was gonna throw you a beatin’?”
I gave him an exasperated look. “‘Cause it’s what I would fuckin’ do.”
He narrowed his gaze at me, but rolled his chair back over to his desk, sat, and got to work without questioning me further. It didn’t take him long to lean in closer to the monitors, that frown on his face deepening.
“The date on this marriage license is fifteen years ago.” Shotgun punched some buttons and clicked his mouse or whatever. “Two-thirds of your pay goes to her. Even what you make here.”
I tilted my head to the side. “Two-thirds?” I frowned. “I thought it was half.” I scrubbed a hand over the back of my neck and groaned.
“Well, sixty-five percent. This started the next deposit after the license was issued. No other withdrawals other than normal bank fees. Only major withdrawals come every May and November. Women’s shelters in the spring, children’s charities in the winter.” He kept typing, clicking, and reading. Then he looked up at me again. “Have you even seen this woman since you married her?”
“Not after my first mission. Not until I came back. I’d been in deep fuckin’ cover. So it was a couple years before I even had the chance to contact her. To be honest, I kind of forgot about her. Yeah, there was a piece of paper with our names on it saying we were married, but she was a drunk hook-up for me. Only reminder I had of her was the missing part of my paycheck. I didn’t need money for myself. I lived the job. Anything I needed was provided for me. It’s why I give so much money away. I don’t need it, and there are plenty of people who do.” I sighed. “Anyway, the last time I talked to her was about four or five years ago. She was supposed to meet me to sign divorce papers, but never showed up. There was no indication anything was wrong, then El Diablo needed me in Argentina and I was gone another year.”
Shotgun stared at the screen for a long time. “So… what you’re saying is, you… forgot? You were married?”
“My life isn’t normal, Shotgun, and I don’t have to explain myself to you. What I want is simple. I want to not be married to her anymore. I don’t give a rat’s ass about the money, but she’s not a nice person and I don’t want to give her any more.”
“No, I can see that.” Shotgun squinted at the screen just about the time Eden, his wife, stormed into the room, an angry frown on her face.
“Archangel? Does that woman out there in the expensive-looking car belong to you? Because she says she does and that you’re expecting her to be waiting on you in the common room to introduce her to El Diablo.” Eden huffed and stomped over to me, pointing a finger in my chest. I figured I was going to get yet another dressing down. Fuck my life.