Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 114647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 573(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 573(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Reaching my hand down slowly, my hand made contact with the cat’s long silky fur. Since I wasn’t missing a finger, I made a move to remove the cat from the hole. He came willingly enough. The problem wasn’t his refusal to come out of the hole, it was the fact that his body just plain didn’t fit.
After some maneuvering, I pulled him all the way free and was just plain stunned at the amount of cat that came out of the tiny hole. “Jesus.”
“Oh, my. He’s a big boy, isn’t he?” Cheyenne said peering over my shoulder.
Big didn’t even begin to cover it. Massive. Gargantuan. Colossal. Those words were barely even fitting. The beast wasn’t fat either, just big boned.
“That looks like a wild cat. Are you sure you want to take that home?” She asked worriedly.
I looked down at the cat who was no flipped backwards, limp like a rag-doll in my arms and laughed. “Cheyenne, this cat couldn’t be further from ferocious. Looks like a pussy-cat to me.”
My eyes moved down to the open board in the floor and my brow wrinkled in confusion. “Hold this.”
The cat didn’t protest in the slightest at the transfer of beds. Cheyenne grimaced and I laughed. She wasn’t a cat person in the least. She was a dog person through and through.
Going back to my knees again, I shined the light into the hollow space and was surprised to see a safe as well as a sheath of papers illuminated in the dark.
I fished the papers out cautiously, and then carefully sifted through them.
You could’ve blown me over with what I read.
“Holy shit.”
***
I didn’t delay in confronting Sam. If my head could explode in anger, it’d have done that over twenty minutes ago as I left Shiloh’s apartment. How could he have been so fucking thoughtless? She’d been in that shithole for well over seven months now. By herself. Scared to fucking death.
The cat hissed in my hand when Chewy met me at the front door, deterring Chewy’s advance in his tracks. He stopped and eyed the cat, but didn’t make a move forward to check the newcomer out.
Good for him. At least one of the males that lived in this house had some fucking brains.
Sam stood as I rounded the corner into the kitchen, eyeing the cat with a raised brow. “Whose cat?”
“That would be your sister’s. Not that you care.” I growled.
Sam’s eyebrows rose. “What makes you think I don’t care?”
“Oh, maybe the fact that your sister is scared fucking shitless to live by herself. Or maybe the fact that she recovered from cancer seven months ago. Or how about the fact that she was abducted and tortured when she was a young girl rendering her practically phobic against absolutely everything; so scared that she has to take medication, which, I might add, she can’t afford right now, to help her sleep without having nightmares. And not once. Not even one goddamned time in the last eight months have you made any effort, whatsoever, to get to know her!” My voice rose with each word that came out of my mouth, but by the time I was finished I was all but bellowing.
Sam look flabbergasted. His eyes went from mine to Cheyenne when she cleared her throat behind me. “You told me she was living somewhere else.”
“My father,” he hissed. “Sends her money every month. I’ve been forwarding it to her on the second of each month like clockwork.”
“Oh?” I asked. “And what makes you think that she’s getting it? Because if I was getting money every month, I wouldn’t be living in some shithole apartment behind a goddamned strip club.”
“What’s your fucking problem?” Sam asked sharply.
“My problem?” I asked in surprise. “Oh, that’s just fucking rich. Did you know that your sister had to walk home today? In the rain? Because her truck broke down on the way home from your shop? Too bad you weren’t there to help her fix it. Then, maybe, she wouldn’t have a broken arm for her troubles. What exactly would you do if I treated Cheyenne the way you’re treating Shiloh?”
His jaw clenched in anger, but he didn’t answer. I was hitting every hot button he had, and right now, he wanted to beat the absolute shit out of me. He might’ve swung at me if I didn’t have Cheyenne at my back.
“How about you run a check on her address. You do know where she lives, right?” I asked in a facetious tone.
“I send her the fucking checks every month, I know where she lives.” He spat.
“You know she lives above the diner?” Cheyenne asked in surprise.
“Yeah,” He said, regret starting to make an appearance in his voice.
“Sam?” Cheyenne asked. “What’s going on with you? You wouldn’t let any woman you know live over there, why would you let your own sister?”
“I went over there and did a drive by. Seemed okay to me.”
The excuse was pitiful, and we both knew it.
“What?” She hissed.
Here’s a little tip for all you young men out there. When a woman says “What,” it’s not because she didn’t hear you, it’s because she’s giving you a chance to amend your answer.
I didn’t stay for the rest of the fight. I knew it was inevitable and about to get heated. Cheyenne had that tone in her voice that said she was about to lose control of her temper, and I had better things to do right now than listen to them go at it.
I stopped first and looked in on Janie who was sleeping on the top half of the bunk bed in Phoebe’s room. She was sound asleep with her tiny body curled up into a little ball in the middle of the bed. Her hair was in a mess covering most of her face, as well as the pillow.
Smoothing the hair away from her face, I gave her nose a soft kiss then checked on Phoebe who was asleep in her crib.
Phoebe slept as Cheyenne used to with her butt in the air and a stuffed animal clutched tightly to her chest. The sight made my chest tighten when I thought about Janie at that age. What I’d missed when I’d been deployed or on missions. I missed her first steps, her first words, her first everything when she was a small baby.