Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 71843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“It happens when your adrenaline starts pumping,” Sam soothed her. “But then what?”
“Then nothing,” she whispered, looking at George.
“Oh,” I breathed out, turning from my daughter to him.
“George?” Sam croaked, clearly distraught.
“She had things well in hand,” he apprised us blandly, which was instantly calming. He was so matter-of-fact, like it was fine, nothing to report. “She only had to free herself from her ex, and then she would have put both, or even all three boys, on the ground.”
She tried to smile, but it dissolved into a quivering lower lip and swimming eyes.
“Do you agree?” he asked, almost daring her to argue.
She nodded quickly, swallowing hard.
“As it was,” he continued flatly, “I arrived and had all the boys take a seat on the bed until I got the full story.”
“Wasn’t the door locked?” I asked him.
“Briefly.”
I was betting that Jill’s parents would need, among other things, a new bedroom door. George went on to explain that he called them, took and then sent video of the state of their home, and Jill got a phone call seconds after he hung up. He then called each of the boys’ parents, including Kayden’s, corralled Jake, Shanti, and Abbey, and put them all in the SUV, where Hannah already was. Abbey was dropped off; he spoke to her parents, explained where her car was, gave them her keys, and told them that she had imbibed at Jill’s party, not at our house, and then drove here.
Sam sighed deeply. “I’m sorry that your night was interrupted,” he told George. “I’ll make sure Hannah––”
“Excuse me, sir, but I have no doubt that if Hannah were in some sort of, heaven forbid, accident, or in a bigger crisis, you would have been the one she called. But for this, when she can’t get home because whoever drove got drunk, that’s what I’m for.”
“You’re not, though.”
“Begging your pardon, but that’s not how Mr. Sutter, nor I, see it.”
Sam put an arm around Hannah, and offered George his hand. “Thank you for protecting my daughter.”
George took his hand firmly. “Again, I was hardly needed.”
“Are you okay to walk?” I asked Hannah.
She nodded and, still holding on to her father’s hands, stepped down onto the curb.
“Wait,” George said, leaning into the car and retrieving Hannah’s other shoe.
“You got that?”
“Of course. Why would I ever leave your shoe?” he asked irritably, squinting at her before bending to hold the leopard-print flat so she could slip her foot in.
Once she was on the sidewalk, I saw how hard she was leaning on her father.
“Maybe we should take you to the emergency room.”
She shook her head. “I want to go to my party, and it’s just my lip and my cheek. Really.”
I looked to George, who gave me a quick nod. “I can tell you, from speaking at length to the boys, that she didn’t take a punch; she was backhanded, which cut her lip.”
“I want to go in the front so I can wash my face before I go out and see everybody.”
“Of course,” Sam told her.
“I’ll see you all later,” George announced, closing the door of the SUV and stepping off the curb to walk around the front.
“No, just wait,” she insisted, stopping and turning to look at him over her shoulder.
His brows furrowed.
“It’s my birthday,” she reminded him.
“Fine.”
Straightening up, she walked with her father to the front door. I followed, with George beside me, and Jake and Shanti bringing up the rear. We all took off our shoes at the door, and once inside, Hannah bolted from the room.
Shanti ran to the guest bathroom, Jake went straight through the house and out the back, and Sam and I faced George.
“She really is fine.”
“We should press charges against the boy who hit her,” I told Sam.
His gaze moved from me to George. “Should we?”
George shook his head.
“Anything broken?” Sam asked him.
“No, sir,” George husked, “not broken, but I did inform all the boys’ parents that Hannah, of course, wouldn’t go near any of them in the future, and if any of them felt the need to see her again, that you and Mr. Harcourt would be filing a TRO.”
Sam nodded.
“And I did impress upon each young man that any further interaction would result in a second visit from me.”
“Okay,” Sam said, and gave me a smile.
I wasn’t stupid; I knew George had put the fear of God into them, and had probably hurt them, stopping just shy of breaking things. Which was good, because it saved me from having to bail my husband out of jail after he killed them, but George was going about things the wrong way.
“Violence fixes nothing and doesn’t change hearts and minds,” I told the bodyguard.
“Yes, sir,” George agreed, “but sometimes the threat of violence can act as a deterrent.”
When I turned to Sam, he shrugged, and I realized I was getting no help from him.