Easy Nights (Boudreaux #6)

“You’re crazy.”

“Call me that again and you’ll see how fast I can come across this table and choke you out. There are no windows in here.”

Oh my God.

“If you’re thinking of going to your brothers about this,” Larry says, “you might want to think again. Because at any given moment, we have people watching them. In fact,” he opens his phone and turns it around so I can see, “I just received this photo a minute ago.”

It’s of Ben coming out of his house.

“We bought the house across the street,” he continues. “I have a sniper upstairs, and at any moment he could take Ben out.”

He’s winning. I’m never going to be free of him.

“You care about all of these idiots. I have no idea why,” Lance says, as if he’s talking to a good friend, joking around with him. “But you do. So my hunch is, you’re going to ditch Ben and mind your manners from here on out.”

“Is it because Ben beat the shit out of you?” I ask softly. “Because he’s better than you?”

“He’s not better than me. You chose me over him long ago. No, it’s only partly because of the physical pain you allowed him to inflict on me. It’s mostly because you’re mine. And you don’t get to be with anyone else. Ever. I won’t allow it.”

“You don’t have a say.”

He busts up laughing and points to the photos. “Have you heard anything I’ve said? Have I ever bluffed where you’re concerned?”

No. No, he hasn’t. Lance doesn’t bluff.

“So, those are the choices. You remember your place and go back to behaving the way you should, or you continue this nonsense and I terrorize your family. Either way, I get what I want, so I’m really content with whatever you decide. See? I have changed. I’m willing to compromise.”

There’s a knock on the door and Larry immediately scoops up the photos and puts them back in the brief case.

“Take that home,” Lance says. “It’s okay, I have copies. Think about it tonight. I’ll know what you decide in the morning.”

“How?”

“Well, it wouldn’t be fun if I shared all my secrets now, would it?” He winks and Larry passes my keys back to me. “You can drive yourself home now.”

“Please don’t do this.”

“God, you’re so fucking pathetic. So boring. You should go now, before I decide to have Larry follow you out and give you a black eye.” He smiles and wiggles his fingers. “Bye, wife.”

Bile rises into the back of my throat as I hurry out of the prison and back to my car. I throw the case in the backseat and get away as fast as I can. I have to call my brothers. Ben. Mama.

I have to call the police!

But Lance’s face is still in my head, and I know in my heart of hearts that I’ve lost. He wasn’t bluffing. He’ll hurt them. He’ll hurt them forever.

And I can’t have that.

I turn on the windshield wipers and then frown when the water doesn’t clear away.

It’s not rain.

It’s tears.

And a hole inside me so deep and wide that nothing will ever fill it up ever again.





Chapter Sixteen


Ben

“I don’t know how this happened,” Shelly says, in tears. I’m back at the dojo now, and Shelly, Ethan, and I are in my office, wracking our brains. “I know it was in my purse last night. I always zip it into the pocket inside.”

“And you didn’t drop your bag?” I ask. “Maybe you didn’t zip it and it fell and the drive fell out?”

“No.”

“Okay, look,” Ethan says, holding his hands up. “It’s missing. The bank is working on the fraudulent charges. There’s nothing else to be done about it right now.”

“You’re right,” I reply and squeeze the back of my neck. “It’ll get sorted out. I’m going to hire someone to revamp our books so it’s more secure. I should have done it a long time ago. This is on me.”

“Shelly, you should call it a day,” Ethan says. “You don’t have any more classes today anyway.”

“Thanks.” She stands, but doesn’t leave the room. “I’m truly sorry.”

“Go regroup and we’ll see you tomorrow,” I reply and sigh when she closes the door behind her. “What a shit show.”

“You can say that again,” Ethan says. “But I mean it. We’ll get it figured out.”

“I know.” Ethan leaves as well, and I reach for my phone to call Van. It rings and then goes to voice mail. “Hey, Angel. You’re probably swamped at work. I just wanted to hear your voice. Have a good afternoon, and I’ll see you later tonight.”

I end the call and frown. Something has felt off for the past couple of weeks. There’s nothing that I can see, it’s just been a lot of shitty things happening, one right after the other.

I shrug and chalk it up to bad luck just as my phone rings.

“This is Ben.”

“Hi, Ben, this is Sally.” Her voice is shaking, putting me instantly on high alert. “Your mom and I are at the hospital.”

“Why?”

“Well, I’d really rather tell you in person. We’re in room 3344 at Tulane.”

“I’ll be right there.” I end the call and rush out of my office, filling Ethan in as I grab my keys and hurry out to the loaner car.

I fucking hate this loaner. It feels like it takes me an hour to get to the hospital, park, and get up to Mom’s room. Sally’s at her bedside and a doctor is talking to them both.

Mom looks like she’s barely able to stay awake.

“Oh good, Ben’s here,” Sally says to the doctor. “This is Millie’s son, Ben.”

The doctor shakes my hand. “I’m Dr. Coltrain. We’ve admitted your mother, and I have to be honest, Ben, she’s in bad shape.”

“What’s happening?”

“I haven’t told him what’s going on,” Sally says. She’s wringing her hands in nervousness.

“Your mother was given a lethal dose of Ativan.”

“How?”

“Her prescriptions were delivered today, like they always are,” Sally says, “and I gave her her meds, but there must have been a mix up at the pharmacy.”

“Sally called an ambulance as soon as your mother started showing signs of poisoning,” Dr. Coltrain says. “And we were able to counteract the medicine, but she’s still a very sick woman.”

She’s sleeping now, as pale as the white sheets she’s lying on.

“I expect her to make a full recovery, but she’ll be with us for a few days. Today is going to be the worst of it.”

“I can stay with her,” Sally says, but I shake my head no.

“I’ll stay. You go on home. I’d appreciate it if you can come up tomorrow.”

“Of course.” She stands and pats my shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault,” I reply. When she’s gone, I turn to the doctor. “What medicine did she take again?”

“We sent the pills to the pharmacy to be identified to be sure, but based on her symptoms, I think it was a very high dose of Ativan.”

“That’s a downer.”

He nods.

“Was it enough to kill her?”

“Maybe,” he says with a grim nod. “But we pumped her stomach and she’s actually already looking much better than she did when she first arrived.”

“Shit, she looks horrible.”

“Hear you,” she whispers without opening her eyes. I grin and kiss her forehead.