Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 144908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
“What’s it to you?” Reese snapped belligerently.
“You’re not worth shit if you don’t protect your woman and child from yourself when you’re in this state, Reese. I told you that from the beginning when I told you I’d get you out and help you. So you fuckin’ answer me. You want to drink yourself to death, damn well do it—that’s between you, your God and Ink. I take care of the other shit for you. But not if you pulled this temper tantrum in front of your baby. You did that, you can go rot in prison, because you aren’t the man I thought you were.” He kept his voice low, the way he always talked. There was never a point in raising his voice.
Reese raised pain-filled eyes to Master. “No, man. I had Tyra take her to Callie. They’re coming for me again. There’s no way out for me this time, Master. Even you can’t help us. I either do what they say, or I go back to prison. Those are my choices.”
Master sighed. “You sent for me because you know I take care of that shit, Reese. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. That doesn’t get you anywhere. You want to know who can feel sorry for herself? My wife. She saw her parents blown away, murdered, right in front of her, two days before our wedding. Then you call on our wedding night. Now knock off the shit, talk to Ink while I step back and then we’ll talk this out and get it fixed.”
Reese stared at him, the bottle loose in one hand. “That true? What you said about your wife? You telling me straight?”
“Bastard had them both killed right in front of her. Tried to force her to marry him. He’s not long for this world, and neither are the men who were with him. I told you, Reese, I fix things. You don’t throw temper tantrums. They don’t help you do anything but look like the maniac they named you. And that bottle of booze you’re looking at nearly lost you your wife and helped to put your ass in jail. You remember that.”
Master turned his back on Reese, only because Ink never once changed the aim of that gun. He remained in the shadows, as still as a statue while Master read to Reese from his own personal bible. He looked at his woman sitting in the chair, talking to Tyra, who had made them both a cup of tea. She was watching him without trying to look like she was. He gave her a little nod, to show he was paying attention. She gave him a half smile in return.
He signaled Ink, and his Torpedo Ink brother moved into him, passing the weapon as he made his approach to Reese. Ink didn’t make the mistake of standing directly in front of the former MMA fighter. He crouched down to the side of the armchair, leaving Master a direct shot if Reese made a single move against Ink. He was fairly certain the fight had gone out of Reese, but he wasn’t taking chances with Ink’s life.
“Where’s your higher power in this picture, Reese?” Ink asked softly.
Reese continued to hang his head, not meeting Ink’s eyes. His face flushed a dull red under his pale skin. Even his spiked hair seemed to glow a little redder. The freckles scattered across the nose that had been broken more than once stood out in stark relief.
He heaved a sigh and placed the bottle of Jack Daniel’s on the floor, as far from the chair as his arm could reach.
Master leaned back toward the door but didn’t take his gaze from Reese. “Tyra. Come in for a minute and remove this bottle, please. Dump it down the drain and rinse out the bottle. Take it to the outside trash and bury it deep. You know the drill.”
Tyra was up and rushing into the den with a little cry of joy. She snatched up the bottle and ran back out without even looking at her husband or the others. That made Master’s gut knot up all over again. Tyra was a good woman, a good wife. She’d stuck with Reese through his alcoholism and his imprisonment. She’d fought for his sobriety. She worked tirelessly to find a lawyer who would help prove Reese’s innocence. She deserved better than having her husband destroy her home in a fit of rage and scare her the way Reese had so obviously done.
“There is no higher power in this, Ink,” Reese finally answered.
“Did you ask for help from your higher power, or did you expect to find it in a bottle?” Ink’s voice was very soft. In inquiry. No accusation. No judgment.
Reese shook his head. “I didn’t ask. I put the phone down after listening to what my parole officer had to say and knew I was completely screwed. My life was over. There was no way out. I just lost it. I barely managed to tell Tyra to get Sandree out of here. There was so much adrenaline, and it had to go somewhere.”