by Kayt Miller
“Sometimes I think life is only good for the wealthy, but I know that’s a cynical, jaded way to look at things. It just seems like rich people get their way no matter what. Money isn’t everything.” I shrug.
“It’s nice, though, love. It’d allow me to buy my girl a new place to live.”
I look back up at him with an arched brow. “I wouldn’t care if you were a pauper, Cooke.” Reaching up, I pat him in the middle of his chest. “I can tell you have a heart of gold in there. That’s all the wealth I need.”
When I hear raised voices, I quickly turn back to the four men across the room. The dark-suited man looks angry. “This is bullshit.” Yep. He’s angry. “We had an agreement,” he spits.
Gage gestures in my direction, and I slide the inch or two needed to be right up against Cooke. I don’t like this. Any of it.
Cooke must sense my unease, because he leans down and whispers, “No worries. I’ve got you, love.”
“Thank you.” I say it without taking my eyes off the four men who are all now looking right at me.
“Her?” the dark-suited man says, pointing one angry finger my way. “She’s the one causing all this trouble for my poor daughter.”
I snort, then scoff, and it’s loud enough for them all to hear. For some reason, I grow some courage. “I didn’t cause anything, sir. Your daughter has been especially unkind to me.”
The man with Kara’s father snickers. “Unkind? Who says shit like that?”
I do.
“She destroyed my only mode of transportation.” And I have no money to fix it.
“That’s what insurance is for,” the other man grunts.
Gage has joined the fray. “It was parked. Your daughter admitted she ran over it.”
Kara’s dad remains silent as his friend says, “She didn’t know what she was saying.”
“She admitted to running over it several times,” Gage deadpans.
“She was confused. Her car was caught up in the debris.” Still the other guy talking.
“Enough!” shouts Kara’s dad. “What do we need to do to make this go away?”
Go away? That’s not right or fair.
The four men look at me. They’re silent, like they’re waiting for me to say something. So I say what I’m thinking. “What?”
Gage’s captain speaks, finally. “Mr. Becker wants to make a deal. What’s it going to take to keep you from pressing charges?”
I shrug. “How would I know? I’m not a cop. She broke the law. Isn’t that something she should pay for?”
I feel Cooke vibrate behind me. He’s laughing. I don’t know why, though. This isn’t funny.
“Are you going to press charges?” asks the captain.
“Look.” I pull away from Cooke and step closer to the men. I’m over this. I’m tired of dealing with Kara Becker, and I’m not going to let her father get his way either. Not without a fight, anyway. Where my courage is coming from, I have no idea. Well, maybe it’s coming from the six-five man who is now directly behind me again. I know because his palm is on my lower back. Just another gift from him, because Cooke Thompson gives me strength.
“She has had a burr about me from day one. I tried to be nice, but nothing worked.” I look at Kara’s father, then back to the captain. “Ask my roommates. On the morning of the assault, I was attempting to mend fences, but she wouldn’t have it. When the police were there, Patsy and Susanna convinced me not to press charges or get a restraining order because they were afraid you’d fire their mom,” I say to Mr. Becker, “By the way, that would be wrongful termination, and you’d get sued. I’d be a witness to that.” So there.
I know all about wrongful termination. My brother claimed he was wrongfully terminated once, but it turned out he was having sex with the boss’s daughter in the back room. During business hours. He claimed that if he got fired, so should she. I get his point. In the end, I think the girl did get fired, but then she was rehired not long after that. My brother wasn’t happy, but by then he’d gotten another job and a girlfriend. “A better one” according to my big bro. I’m not sure if he meant the girl or the job.
“I don’t know why she would feel compelled to destroy my scooter. It wasn’t much, but it was all I had to get to work and to class. She’s vindictive and irrational, and I had nothing to do with that. She’s seriously unstable, and I’m afraid of her.”
Turning to Gage, I say with sincerity, “Maybe I should pursue that protection order. If you all let her go without any repercussions, what’s to prevent her from doing something worse? Especially if her father can waltz in here and sweet-talk you all into a deal.”
I hear a low rumble coming from Cooke. At first, I think he’s laughing again, but when I peek up at him, his face looks like he wants to kill something, or someone. Turning back to Gage, I look at him to see what his face tells me. Nothing. His face is showing absolutely no emotion. I bet he’s good at poker.
Then he says, “I suggested that the day of the assault, Quinn. I think that’s a good idea.”
“It’s not going to stop her from doing more damage to your other property.” Cooke sounds as angry as his face looks.
“Jesus,” Kara’s dad mutters. “Fine. This is what I’m going to do to prevent all this protection order bullshit. I don’t want that on her record, so I’m taking Kara home. She’s… she needs to regroup.”
Regroup? I call bullshit on that. She needs therapy. “When will she be back?” I ask with an arched brow.
“Never, if I have anything to say about it. She can transfer to another college next semester.”
“What about Quinn’s scooter?” asks Gage.
“How much was it worth?” Mr. Becker asks.
I’m about to say “nothing” when Gage responds. “Five grand.”
Five grand? Is he joking?
“Fine. I’ll write a check—”
“Cash,” says Gage. “Right now.”
Mr. Becker looks at the captain. “If I give her five grand, will this thing drop?”
The captain looks at me. I look at Mr. Becker. “I won’t see her again?”
“I’ll make sure of it.”
I turn and look up at Cooke. “What do you think?”
“I think you need to get all of this in writing and have that guy”—he points at Mr. Becker—“and Kara sign it, making sure they understand what will happen if she shows up here.” I smile up at him and nod, but he’s not done. “I’d also make sure he includes something in there about your mates’ mom.”
“You her attorney?” asks Mr. Becker.
“You could say that.”
I want to snicker, because I know Cooke admitted to nothing just then, but I remain straight-faced and quiet.
“Fine. We’ll draw up the paperwork and sign it.”
“In front of either the captain or Officer Golden,” I add.
“Of course.” Mr. Becker smiles, but he misses the mark; it’s more sneer than smile. “We’ll bring Kara in as well.”
“Today,” Cooke snaps.
“We’ll have this done by five today.”
Gage turns to me. “Meet me back here at five thirty. I’ll have the papers and the cash so you won’t have to see Kara.”
“Okay.” I nod. “Sounds good.” I turn to walk away, but before I do, I hold my hand out to Gage. “Thank you, Officer Golden.”
He gives me a soft smile. “My pleasure, Miss Maxwell.”
Gah! He’s such a good guy.
Cooke takes my hand in his and tugs me out the door. When we get to his car, he walks me around to the passenger side, nudges my back against the door, and kisses the hell out of me. It’s been hours since he kissed me like that, and I’m not going to lie, I’ve missed it. Reaching up, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull myself up to get as close as possible. When he pulls away, his face still looks stormy.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, concerned.
“I don’t like the way that man looked at you.”
“Man?” I look right, then left. “What man?”
“The police constable.”
What’s a… “Oh, Gage?”
“Aye. The fact that you’re on first names with him drives me mad.”
“Cooke,” I say softly. “He’s just a kind man who was trying to help me.”
Mumbling softly, Cooke steps back and says, “Trying to get into your knickers, more like.”
It makes me giggle. “I heard that.”
“Good.”
Chapter Thirty-One
After the police station, I asked Cooke to take me home so I could shower, change, and pack an overnight bag. I also wanted to let the girls know I’d be gone tonight, and I hoped to catch Patsy so I could tell her and Susanna about the police station and Mr. Becker’s promise. I invited Cooke to wait for me, but he said he had a few things to take care of and he’d be back within the hour.
I wonder what things he needed to take care of. I could ask him, but that seems super intrusive.
True to his word, Cooke is now back to pick me up. A few of the girls are hanging around in the living room when he says, “You look lovely, Quinn. The blue looks perfect with your eyes.”
“Thanks,” I say with a smile.
“You do,” Of course Patsy would say that, since she helped me pick out an outfit that was dressy enough for dinner but could still be worn to rugby practice. What could be so versatile, you ask? Black leggings and a light blue tunic with black stitching details. I’ve also slipped on my black flats and grabbed my black purse. It’s not bad, at least compared to my normal clothes.
“I’ve packed clothes for tomorrow,” I add shyly, since I’m essentially telling him I’m sleeping with him again. I feel the heat of a blush spread over my face and neck.
“Good.” He smiles. “Did you tell your mates about the meeting earlier?”
“About Kara and Mr. Becker? Yes.”
“I hope he’s true to his word,” grumbles Patsy. “I’ve already talked to my mom.”
“It would be wrong and probably illegal for him to fire her for something she had nothing to do with.” I sound far more comfortable than I feel.
“What about the mold issue?” Cooke asks.
“I agree with you, Cooke,” Patsy tells him. “Mold is dangerous.”
I add, “Patsy’s going to call the landlord later.”
“Why not now?” Cooke asks. “We have a little time before we need to be back at the police station.”
Patsy nods. “Sure.” Searching for her phone, she finds it between two couch cushions. We sit silently as she searches for the number and then dials. “I’ll put it on speaker.”
I nod but remain quiet.
“Hello?” says a scratchy voice on the end of the line.
“Hi, yeah, Mr. Conrad? This is Patsy at 205 Beedle Drive?”
“Uh-huh.” Mr. Conrad says, then coughs like he’s losing a lung. I hope he’s all right.
“Yeah, I was calling about the basement.”
“What about it?” asks the older man.
“Well”—Patsy sounds so chipper, but her face tells another story—“there’s still water down there. We’re concerned about mold.”
“Mold?” He chuckles. “That’s ridiculous.”
“No it’s not, Mr. Conrad.”
I feel Cooke fidget next to me. Looking over, I see his brows furrow and his lips flatten and thin. He’s irritated.
“Sweetheart, we’ll get to it soon enough.”
Cooke stands and moves closer to Patsy. Whispering, he tells her, “Tell him if he doesn’t take care of it this week, you’ll all need to find other living arrangements due to health concerns.”
Patsy is staring at Cooke. I wonder what she’s thinking. I don’t have to wait long before she says exactly what Cooke suggested.
“You have a lease, young lady. You can’t move out.”
Cooke appears ready to counter that argument, but Patsy holds her hand up to stop him. “Mr. Conrad. All I have to do is call someone at the city to ask them for a rental housing inspection to test for mold. It’s free. If they find mold, we’ll move out, and you’ll be forced to remediate that mold and find new tenants.”
“Don’t you threaten me, young lady.”
“It’s not a threat, Mr. Conrad. My health and the health of my roommates is my first concern. If necessary, I’ll retain an attorney to protect us against any legal action.”
Smart. She didn’t threaten to sue him. I know from that wrongful termination situation with my brother that threats only make things worse.
“I’ll give you one more week to have the basement cleaned and inspected for mold,” she continues. “If you haven’t done that by this Saturday, we’ll be making arrangements to move out quickly.”
The crusty voice on the other end of the line isn’t happy. “Fucking girl….”
“Is that a yes?” she asks smugly.
“Yes,” he hisses. “A crew will be there in the morning.”
“Great!” she says cheerily. “See you then.”
Hanging up, she smiles first at Cooke, then me. “How’s that?”
I’m in awe. “Perfect.”
Cooke steps back over until he’s next to me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. With a tug from him, I’m pressed against his side. “Excellent. But if he doesn’t follow through, please let me know. I may have a solution for your living arrangements.”
Patsy looks surprised. “Oh, okay.”
“Wait! Did you buy that condo?” I squeak.
Smiling down at me, he says, “Not yet.”
“Cooke—”
“Well, we’d best be off. It’s nearly five thirty.”
“Oh, right.”
Time to get back to the police station.
Gage is pointing to a line on one of the police forms. “Sign here, please, Quinn.”
I’m staring down at a police report. “I didn’t think I was going to press charges.”
“You haven’t. Not yet. This is merely for our records. I’m not convinced we won’t be seeing Kara again. None of what they provided to us will hold up in court, and all it says in there is he’ll try to keep her from returning to Ames.”
I look into Gage’s eyes to see if I can get a read on him. I don’t like what he just said. “So, this isn’t over?”
“It may not be.” After those papers are signed, Gage hands me a brown, legal-size envelope. “This is the signed agreement you asked for and the cash. I checked it all for you, but I suggest you take a moment to read through everything and count the money. I’ll have you sign a receipt for everything and add it to your file.” He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. “None of this is normal police procedure, Quinn, but we have mediated situations before. With that said, you still need to be sure you’re protected.”
I nod, then point to an empty desk. “Can I look at everything over there?”
“Sure. Let me know when you’re done.”
Cooke, who has been standing beside me in silence since we stepped foot in the station, walks with me to the desk. Pulling out a chair for me, I sit down as he takes one from another nearby desk. Opening the envelope, the first thing that slides out are five packages of bills, each with a brown paper band that reads $1000.
I gasp. “Wow. That’s a lot of money.”
“Aye. Would you like me to count it while you read through papers?”
“Sure.” I watch him unbundle one pack and count out ten hundred-dollar bills. When he chuckles, I look up at him. “What?”
“Read.” He points to the forms.
“It’s too much fun watching you count the money.” I shrug. “But you’re right.” So I do my best to focus on the forms. It’s only a page and a half. When I’m done, I hand it over to Cooke. “Will you read it?”
“Sure.” He hands me the money. “It’s all there.” I gaze down at it like it’s a newborn kitten or something. This is a lot of money. It’ll help me a lot, but I can’t help feelin
g like I got it in the wrong way. It’s like I extorted it from Mr. Becker.
“Stop,” Cooke whispers.
I look up, blinking. “What?”
“I can see it written all over your beautiful face.”
“What?”
“Guilt, love. Remember. Kara owed you the money. She destroyed your scooter.”
“He’s right, Quinn.” I look up and see Gage standing in front of us. Damn, he’s like a ninja. I didn’t hear him approach the desk.
“My scooter wasn’t worth near this. I could buy ten of my old scooters for this money.”
“Think of it like this,” Gage explains. “Insurance is supposed to pay enough to replace whatever was stolen or destroyed. In this case, you can’t replace your exact scooter, so you need to buy a new one. You were inconvenienced because the scooter was destroyed, which some would call pain and suffering.”
“That makes sense, I guess. I wouldn’t say I suffered, but it was a pain.” I snort because I thought it was funny. When neither of the guys laughs, I quickly shut up.
Gage continues, “If he’d gone through his insurance company, they would’ve penalized him by raising his rate just for making the claim. And if they knew it was intentional, they may not have covered it at all, and he may also have lost his policy. In the long run, this saves him time and probably money. Not to mention his daughter isn’t going to be charged for hit-and-run.”
“Sadly,” mutters Cooke.
“Yes, sadly,” Gage grumbles.
“So, I shouldn’t feel bad about taking this money and buying a new scooter.”
Gage nods. “Not at all.” He smirks. “And a new pink helmet.”
“Right.” And those aren’t cheap either. “So, my helmet was toast?”
“Oh yeah.”
I look at the cash. “Scooters don’t cost five thousand dollars,” I say, sounding unconvinced.
“Some do. It’s good you have the money to get what you want. If you have money left over, you can use it for real insurance.”
I snort, then laugh. “I had real insurance. Liability is real.”
“You’ll want full coverage this time, Quinn.”
“Yeah. I know.” I’ll get it.
After Cooke has gone through the documents, we pack everything back into the envelope and wave goodbye to Gage. “He’s so nice,” I say as we leave.
