Page 70 of Sweet and Salty
“Hello, Laura,” Chris says, leveling a pistol at my chest. “I see I finally have your attention.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Jesse
Fucking Sideburns.
They look worse since the last time I saw him, too. Shaggy, overgrown, like a lawn gone to seed.
When he points that gun at my beautiful Laura, something snaps inside me. This isn’t fair. She left this asshole, good and proper. Now he’s interfering in her life again. He’s threatening her mom, her one remaining parent.
“I see I finally have your attention,” Chris says. His eyes narrow with malice.
My hands fist at my sides. I should have wrung his neck at the wedding. I won’t make that mistake twice.
“Leave my mom alone,” Laura says, soft but menacing. There are all sorts of threats in that tone, and I fall in love with her a little more.
“Laura, please,” Marie Marshall says, keeping her hands aloft and her gaze fixed on Chris. “Just leave. Please.”
“We can’t let her leave, Marie.” Chris swings the gun from Laura to me. “She needs to see just how far I’ll go for her.”
“You broke up with me, shitface.” Laura’s rage is a palpable aura, red-hot and smoking. “You never did anything for me while we were together. I should have dumped your lazy ass two years ago.”
“You don’t see.” Chris shakes his head, but the gun doesn’t move from the center of my chest.
In the distance, I think I can hear sirens, but maybe they’re just all the internal warning bells that are tolling the sound of my impending death.
Because I’ve already decided. When he goes too far, when he tries to hurt the ones I love, myfucking family, I’m not going to let it happen. I’ll die first.
“What does she not see?” Marie says, her voice a beacon of calm. In my next life, I’d like to come back as someone like her. Someone implacable but deeply caring. “Tell her, Chris. Now. Put the gun away and let’s all just have a chat. I’ve got hot coffee and some bars.”
Chris’s cheeks redden, and he swerves toward her. “Shut up!” It’s enough of a pause that I take a quick moment to account for my surroundings. We entered through the waiting room, but directly to my right is the receptionist’s desk. With a handy black woven pencil cup sitting right next to the monitor, filled with pens, highlighters, and a pair of scissors.
“Don’t tell my mom to shut up!” Laura says, taking a step forward.
As Chris veers his attention back to her, I palm the scissors. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks, but you won’t give me the time of day. I had to team up with Joel.”
“Joel Hostetler?” Laura’s tone indicates exactly what she thinks of that individual. As surreptitiously as I can, my entire body tense and ready to fight, I test the point of the scissors against the pad of my index finger. Not the sharpest, but if Iuse enough intention… “What the hell are you doing with Joel Hostetler?”
“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” Chris asks. The point of his pistol swings between me and Laura.
Laura quivers with rage, but I’d rather draw his wrath. “It was you, wasn’t it?” I say. “You poisoned Lucretia Borgia.”
“All of our problems started with her!” Chris shouts, spluttering. Never got that checked out, apparently. “We were fine until you rescued that fucking donkey. Then all your attention, all your care went to that damned animal.”
“Don’t talk about Cree that way,” I say. “Where’s Dr. Sieber?”
“I’m fine,” comes a shaky tenor from deep inside the break room. “Everyone stay calm.”
“Our problems started with you,” Laura says to Chris. “I turned myself inside out to help you, and for what? Nothing. That’s what you gave me. And what was poisoning my donkey supposed to accomplish? Was I supposed to run to you and ask what to do? Give you money for nothing?”
“I’m owed money for all I did for you,” Chris says, his jaw tense.
I’m definitely not imagining the sirens now. I wonder what’s going on with the Mack brothers, but we have enough to deal with right now.
“The police are coming,” I say softly, edging slightly in front of Laura. “Your game is up, Sideburns Squirrel.”
The gun now shifts toward the general direction of my head. I say “general” because Chris’s hands tremble so badly, the barrel of the pistol keeps shaking.