Page 3 of Duty and Desire
As happy as I was to find out they will be held accountable for what they did, learning that my car would not be returned to me was a blow I wasn’t prepared for. With it being in Conner’s name, he’s the one who will receive the check from the insurance company once they finalize everything. And the chances of him giving that money to me so I can get another vehicle are aboutas likely as me being kidnapped by a billionaire who is madly in love with me.
Clicking on the photo of a white four-door Toyota that looks to be in good condition, I scroll through the rest of the pictures, then read over the details, honestly having no idea what any of the lingo means. If I were someone else, I’d have a friend or a friend’s husband I could call to ask questions, but I don’t. The friends I had with Conner have all turned their backs on me, proving what I already knew: None of them were really my friends.
Not that they would be much help since I doubt any of them or their husbands know much about cars, except what the most expensive one is and how to drive it. And I refuse to go to my parents for help. My dad has already given me a job, which is more than I deserve, and my mom’s assistance would come with contingencies or a verbal lashing about how my life would be so much easier if I just went back to Conner and stopped being stubborn.
With a sigh, I get off the couch and take my cup of coffee to the kitchen. Before I can do anything about finding a car this morning, I need to finish getting ready. Then I’ll walk down the street to the local drug store and beg them to use the phone so I can call a cab to take me to the police station to hopefully get my cell phone and my purse.
Halfway to my bedroom, the doorbell rings, and I turn to look at it, feeling my brows drawing together. It’s early, just after six in the morning, and no one ever comes to see me. Going to the door, I lift onto my toes to look through the peephole, and my heart pounds when I find Noah on the landing. I drop to my flat feet, unlatch the locks and twist the nob, knowing it would be rude not to answer.
“Hey,” I greet as I swing the door open and attempt to smile over how awkward I feel as his eyes move from the towel Iwrapped my hair in when I got out of the shower to the robe I have on.
“Hey, babe.” He steps toward me, leaving me no choice but to move back. The door closes behind him, something I’m grateful for since it’s cold out today, even though spring is right around the corner. But having him this close, I feel like I can’t even take a breath without bumping into him. He’s still in uniform, including a bulletproof vest that makes him seem even larger—which you’d think would not be possible but is no less true. And he’s not without his gun either. Add to that his large boots, and he just takes up so muchspace. “I thought you might want this, so I figured I’d get it to you before I headed home.” I drop my gaze as he holds out his hands, noticing then he has my purse. “Your cell is in it.”
I lift my eyes to his and feel my throat get tight like I might cry. And I really donotwant to cry.
“Thank you.” I take my bag from him. “I was about to go to the station to see if I could get it. You saved me a trip.”
“You might want to check it to make sure everything is still inside. I don’t think they had time to go through it, but you never know.”
With a nod, I carry it to the kitchen and place it on the counter, opening it to find everything exactly where it was last evening. “All of it is here.” I take out my phone and plug it in so it can charge, then look across the high counter that separates the kitchen from the living room. I find him still across the room by the door, but his gaze is on the couch where I left my laptop.
“You looking for a car?”
“Yes.”
“Shouldn’t your insurance give you a rental until you can get a new ride?”
“If I weren’t going through a divorce and my ex-husband wasn’t a jerk, that’s how it would work.” I walk out of the kitchenand go to the couch to pick up my computer and close it. “But since Conner has been threatening to take my car for weeks now, I’m sure he’ll use this as the perfect excuse to do just that.”
“He’s been threatening you?” Noah asks quietly. When I meet his gaze, I find the same look on his face as last night when he found out someone had pointed a gun at me.
“Not like that,” I assure him softly. “He’s just lashing out. I don’t think he would ever hurt me.”
“How’s he lashing out?” He leans back, crossing his arms over his broad chest.
“It’s nothing.” I shake my head.
“How’s he lashing out at you?” he repeats a little louder while leaning into me. I flinch. “I would never put my hands on you, babe.”
I lick my lips. “I know.” And Idoknow that. Still, with his size compared to mine, it would only take him flicking his finger to cause damage. And even if Conner is way smaller than Noah and never hit me, he did get angry and shove me or jab his finger into my face or chest hard enough to hurt. Sometimes, he grabbed me a little too tightly, leaving bruises.
“Never.” His eyes hold mine.
“Okay.” I wrap my arms around my middle.
“Now, tell me how he’s been lashing out at you.”
“It’s nothing, really. He just won’t let me get my stuff and has been threatening to take the car.” I shift on my feet.
“Why haven’t you asked your brother to help you go get your things? Or requested a police escort to pick them up?”
“Because the stuff I have there are things he paid for, and Items I would just sell if I ever got them back. All I really want from him is his signature on the divorce papers so I can move on with my life.” I wave my hand. “I’m trying not to argue with him about bags or shoes I don’t actually need.”
“So he’s not signing the divorce papers?”
I shake my head. “Not yet. My lawyer said he has thirty days to respond. If he doesn’t, we can file with the courts and wait for a date to have the divorce finalized by a judge without his signature.”
“Maybe he’s not happy with what you’re asking for,” he says. Even if he might not mean it with ill intent, it still makes me angry. I know what people think of me, what my brother thinks of me, and what I’m sure he’s said to Noah about the kind of person I was. He might have been right before, but he’s not anymore.
