Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Kendric takes my face in his hands, leaning down. “You do not fuckin’ lie to me, Zariah. You’re a cop, one man in your house would be no fuckin’ problem for you. Now, I’ll ask you again, who the fuck did this?”
I stare at him and a tear bursts forth.
“I’m a smart man, you gotta trust that we can handle this for you. For your boy. Now tell me what I need to know. Can’t protect you if I don’t know.”
Protection.
That word sounds nice.
It feels even better.
I can’t remember what it feels like to be protected.
To be safe.
“Reece,” I whisper. “Reece did it.”
Kendric turns just his head and looks to Bohdi who has just come through the window. “Call Alarick, get the guys in here. Now.”
Bohdi nods and walks into the other room, pulling out his phone.
“Kendric,” I say, grabbing his hand with mine. “He has my son.”
Kendric carefully helps me up and over to the sofa. He gently lays me down and even though I’m crying and panting after that small movement, I hear his voice loud and clear. “We will get your boy back to you safe and sound. I promise you that.”
I believe him.
I really do believe him.
“Alarick is on his way with the guys,” Bohdi says, coming back into the room. “I’ve got a first aid kit; do you need to call the paramedic?”
Kendric looks to me. “You want to go to the hospital and report that mother fucker, or do you want us to deal with it?”
I’m an officer of the law, I know the right thing would be to go to the hospital, make an official report and go from there. I also know that half of those reports aren’t taken seriously, people get hurt over and over again, let down by the system. I know that Reece isn’t the sort of person who will just lie down and go away, he’ll fight and, because of that, I know my decision has been made even before I say the words. “You handle it.”
Kendric’s eyes flash with something new. Appreciation. Respect. Admiration. I’ve never seen him look at me the way he is now. The hatred he has felt toward me in the last few months has gone, in its place is a man who is finally starting to see that I’m not the enemy here.
I’m only trying to help.
“You think anything is broken? We can say you were mugged, somethin’ like that, if you want to go to the hospital.”
I move, and pain shoots through my body.
I do need the hospital. I’m not stupid enough to think I don’t.
“I’m in a lot of pain, I need the hospital,” I whisper, body throbbing from just a small movement.
“Then I’m takin’ you as soon as Alarick gets here. You give us as much information as you can, we’ll take it from there.”
I swallow, nervous.
I’m not going to stop being nervous until I have my son back. Safe.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
Kendric looks to me. “We don’t let our own down.”
Their own.
My heart swells and I make a sobbing sound, which causes me to cry out in pain. Kendric shifts me slightly, murmuring, “Stay still, woman. You’re goin’ to hurt yourself more.”
My heart feels so incredibly full right now.
“Where is she?”
Briella’s voice booms through my house, but I can’t turn to see her. It doesn’t take long and she’s in front of me, shoving Kendric out of the way and dropping to her knees, reaching for my hand. “Oh, honey, what happened? Are you okay?”
“I’m just sore, I’ll be okay,” I tell her, voice shaky from the pain.
“She’s got broken ribs, no doubt, probably some bleeding. We need to get her to the hospital,” Kendric orders. “Goin’ to need you to let me get her, Briella.”
Briella looks to him, then back to me. She hesitates, but she steps back and lets Kendric reach for me. Alarick, Cohen, and Samson appear in my line of sight and Alarick takes one look at me and his face hardens. “You tell me where he is.”
I do just that. I tell him where Reece is, I tell them I want my son safe, and then I let them do their bit.
I have to.
I just don’t have it in me to fight anymore.
I’m done.
“YOU’RE IN BAD WAY, are you sure you didn’t see who attacked you?” the doctor asks after I’ve been admitted to the hospital because of my injuries. I’ve got a few broken ribs and some internal bleeding that should go away on its own, but they want to monitor me to make sure.
I lied.
I told them I was walking home and got attacked.
I think they know I’m lying; hell, I think they know when most people are lying. It’s their job really, isn’t it?
“I didn’t. I know it was a man, I can give a brief description but I couldn’t see his face because he had it covered.”