Page 18 of Force At Third

The day I rolled into his place to have lunch with my father, something my mother had insisted I do on occasion but only if he was truly home, Ronald Jr. asked me whose car it was. I told him mine.

His smug-ass look pissed me off, and then the bastard smiled. “How many lap dances did your mother have to give for that?”

Dad was pulling down the long tree-lined driveway, and I nodded to his Bentley. “Just one, bro.” Then I asked, “I wonder how many other halfsiblings we have out there or how many are to come. Do you think the debutwat knows she and her kids still aren’t enough?” I feigned sympathy when his face fell. “It’s gotta suck to find out your mom’s actually the whore, whereas mine was just a girl who was naïve enough to fall in love with the idea of love.”

“He loves my mother,” he hissed.

“He loves the idea of having a wife who pretends to be a good Christian woman, staying home and raising his kids, playing stepmom to his bastard daughter of an ex-stripper while he’s playing the same game he has since he was in college. I wonder if he washes his dirty dick before your mom gives Daddy his obligatory blow job.” I shake my head. “Probably not.”

“You little bitch.”

“Call me that again, you ugly little fuck, and I’ll call our grandmother, and two more of these will probably end up in my driveway by month’s end.”

“And I’ll tell your boyfriend you’re nothing but a piece of white trash.”

I got nose-to-nose with him. “One word to him, and I’ll have your mother’s ass arrested for attacking me, with pictures to prove it. She may not do time, but he’ll divorce her to save his reputation and be married again within six months. Then you and your little bitch sisters will be the ones listening to people talk about your mother. Only what they say about her will be true.”

“No one would believe you.”

“Try me. I fucking dare you.”

I received a hundred thousand dollars after graduation. We sold our cute little house and used that money for a down payment on a bigger one, one with a pool. The rest was put in an account.

When I went away to college, I had tuition paid for and a monthly allowance. But when I decided to leave and change directions, I didn’t need to go away; I was close enough to drive to my classes and get my Bachelor’s in Criminal Justice while working part-time at Walton PD and coaching softball.

Ronald Cabot hates that a child of his is a public servant. Me? I kind of love that he knows I don’t feel the need to kiss his ass. We still talk once a month for five minutes. Those minutes are filled with him trying to get me to work for the family business or just sitting in awkward silence. This is only because Mom insisted, telling me that I would never regret making an attempt, but if I didn’t call, one day I may, and she didn’t want that for me.

As a small-town cop, having helped people in need for years, that was enough for me. I was happy.

Until I realized how politics play a role in law enforcement. The rich continue to get away with breaking laws, beating their kids, or literal murder, receiving not so much as a slap to their hand when most would be doing time. I was ready to quit; Marks was, too, and then I told him that I had an idea.

At twenty-eight, I received two hundred fifty thousand dollars, which I used to pay off our Walton house, buy Mom an RV so she could travel, take her dogs since she couldn’t watch them anymore, and start a business.

With what was left over from that money, and our combined savings, we realized there was a way to continue to help people, and the income from that is far more than we made being told to fight crime, risk our lives, and then see criminals walk away. We no longer wear the binds of a badge.

When I turn thirty-five, I’m promised five million, but it’s conditional on my being married.

I always knew I’d never see that money, but I never cared. Just like I didn’t give a shit that I wasn’t given the same luxuries as his other “legitimate” kids.

Now, seeing how badly the justice system failed Chloe and CeCe, that dangling carrot looks tastier every damn day, even knowing I could end up choking on it. Hell, even before that, I had convinced myself that I could do a loveless marriage, knowing that it was bullshit, and be able to scale up our company.

Seeing Frankie act out the way he did, I’m not sure even an open marriage would work. Fucking men.

“York,” Marks sighs. “You still there?”

“Of course I am. Where else would I be?” I snap unnecessarily.

“I get this isn’t the direction we went in when we started this. We’re not simply setting up systems, catching cheating spouses, providing personal security for the wealthy, and then doing some pro-bono good shit in-between. This is fucking with me, too. It hard, it’s?—”

“It’s Chloe.”

“It’s Chloe,” he agrees.

I grab my iPad and hit the app for CeCe’s house, seeing both vehicles in the driveway, which means she didn’t stick around after they closed.

“CeCe’s pulling out now. Fly safe, Marks.”

“Gonna fly much safer when I get my pilot’s license.”

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