Respectable Riot (Riot MC, #6) Page 6

  “You tried to force yourself on me. This isn’t something you can paint with your revisionist-history brush. No way do I feel safe in the same bed with you.”

  “How long have you not been bleeding?” He asked.

  The subject change was so swift I rocked on my heels. “What?”

  “How long have you been letting me think you’re still bleeding?”

  My arms uncrossed and my hands went to my hips. “Oh, no you don’t. You are not changing the subject on me.”

  “My point, Janie, is that we both are guilty of doing wrong.”

  “No! This is not about your notion of wrong-doing. It’s about you not listening. You not giving one damn that I was pregnant with our child. You insisting I ‘get rid’ of it. I saw our child in my womb. I heard our child’s heartbeat. Were you there for that? No. Hell, I should wonder where you were...so, let’s have it, Trent. Where were you for those six days you left?”

  He was silent and his face was stony.

  “Yeah,” I whispered.

  Grabbing my pillow, I went to the master bedroom and closed the door, but didn’t lock it. Clearly, Trent could get in regardless, and would, so I’d deal with that when it happened. It took a while, but I managed to fall asleep, and when I woke up the next morning, Trent was not in the room.

  MONDAY MORNING, I WALKED out of my lawyer’s office feeling a little bit lighter. Now that papers had been served and Trent had retained a lawyer, things would supposedly start moving more rapidly. To be honest, though, my definition of rapid and the legal system’s definition were far and away two different things. As I moved into the parking lot, I noticed the sky was dark with heavy clouds. Approaching my car, I heard a diesel engine running and spied a tow truck nearby. The driver was standing next to my BMW.

  “Um, I’m sorry, but I don’t need a tow,” I said.

  A police officer came around from the far side of the tow truck. “Mrs. Palmer?”

  Dread stole over me like a shroud. “Yes.”

  “This vehicle is being impounded–”

  “What? Why?” I demanded.

  “It was reported stolen.”

  “I’m the registered driver of the vehicle.”

  The officer shook his head. “Afraid that’s not so; it’s registered to Mr. Trent Palmer.”

  “And I’m his wife.”

  The officer shrugged and pulled a toothpick out of his pocket. “Sorry, ma’am. We’re just doing our jobs.”

  I would just bet he was.

  I didn’t want to borrow trouble, but I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “If this vehicle was reported stolen, aren’t you going to arrest me?”

  The toothpick swiveled between the officer’s lips. “Not unless you interfere or obstruct justice.”

  Thunder rumbled in the distance. Even though it wasn’t ten in the morning yet, I had things I needed to do. I turned on my heel and went back to my lawyer’s office. Craig, my lawyer, happened to be speaking to the receptionist when I walked back inside.

  “Did you leave something behind, Mrs. Palmer?” he asked.

  With a deep breath, I pushed my attitude aside. “No. My husband reported the car I drive stolen. My name is not on the registration; the police officer outside with the tow truck driver said I’m not under arrest so long as I do not interfere.”

  Craig’s eyes hardened and he moved to a nearby window. He turned from the blinds and arched his brows at me. “Seems you weren’t kidding when you said you expected Mr. Palmer to fight dirty.”

  I dipped my chin in acknowledgment. “This is likely just the tip of the iceberg.”

  “So noted. Like I said, keep a record of all forms of interaction, and while Mr. Palmer is not directly interacting with you, this is a form of interaction. Do you need to use our phone?”

  I shook my head. “I’ll use my cell. It’s going to rain soon, so I thought I’d stay dry.”

  Craig nodded at me and left me to it. I sighed thinking that I would have to call Andrea to bail me out of a bind, again. My luck, she’d be in the middle of a client and I’d have to wait an extra forty-five minutes or an hour for her to get here. I didn’t want to lean on her so heavily, even though she would tell me it was really no problem at all.

  Then I thought of my friend Justine. She had just opened her own business. Tax season was ramping up, but I decided to call her anyway.

  “Hey, Janie. How’re things?”

  I chuckled. “You don’t actually want to know right now. I hate to bother you, but would you be able to give me a ride? I’m at a law firm in Ortega, but if it’s an–”

  She scoffed at me. “Please. It isn’t even ten in the morning yet. I have no problems picking you up, if you agree to have a late breakfast with me at this tea room in Orange Park. They’ve signed me on to do their books, and I feel like I need to support their business, but no way would James ever agree to go there.”

  I chuckled with actual humor this time. “Justine, you had me at tea. I’ll text you the law firm’s address.”

  “See you in twenty minutes.”

  I CLIMBED INTO JUSTINE’S Buick Regal just as it started to sprinkle. “You are a lifesaver, Justine. Thank you so much.”

  She dismissed me with a wave of her hand. “No way. I’ve been wanting to go this tea room, but James has been swamped at the office.”

  I glanced at her and marveled at the dreamy look in her eyes. “You two are pretty serious, huh?”

  She smiled at me. “Yeah. He might move in with me next month.”

  I grinned. “That’s good. And your new business is going well, too?”

  She pulled up to a traffic light. “Oh, yeah. Please, thank your father again for referring me so many great clients. I wouldn’t–”

  “Don’t finish that, lady. You would be doing this even if my father hadn’t referred some of his clients to you.”

  As we made the left-hand turn onto Highway 17, the clouds opened up and Justine had to turn the wipers onto the highest setting. I kept quiet so she could concentrate in the deluge.

  After a few minutes, she spoke. “So, car problems?”

  “Ha! Not hardly. Soon-to-be-ex-husband problems is more like it.”

  She frowned. “The knee-jerk reaction is to say that I’m sorry, but having gone through divorce, I don’t say that any more. Though, I am sorry you’re going through that headache. Is it finalized yet?”

  “No. He was just served a few days ago and has his own lawyer looking at the papers. It’s why I was over here, my lawyer anticipates things speeding up.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  I tilted my head in contemplation. “Would be, except for Trent’s stunt earlier.”

  “What stunt is that?”

  “He reported my car stolen. Cop was there with a wrecker to take it away.”

  Justine gasped. “You’re shitting me!”

  “Wish I were,” I said to the window.

  “Jesus,” she muttered.

  I looked at her. “Yep, so how long did it take for you to divorce Nathan?”

  She let out a humorless laugh. “Was supposed to be six weeks, tops. It would’ve been, until he pushed about selling the house. Of course this all happened during the recession, and no way I was down with that.”

  “Ah,” I sighed, reminding myself I needed to deal with living arrangements, pronto.

  Waking up to Trent in bed with me was not conducive to my peace of mind. During our meeting, Craig agreed finding a place to stay outside my home with Trent would be a good idea.

  Ten minutes later, we dashed from the parking lot into the Cozy Tea Eatery. I never would’ve known it was in this strip mall had Justine not mentioned it. We sat down at a table, and I couldn’t believe all the teas on the menu. They had two selections of chai tea, the first one named “Kama Sutra Chai” and while it sounded interesting, I had no chance of getting it on any time soon, so that tea seemed like a bad idea. The other chai on the menu was Lemongrass and I wasn’t feeling very ci
trusy today.

  “Have you been here before?” I asked Justine.

  “No, but look at that dessert case!”

  I glanced that way, and saw a plethora of truffles and scones to choose from. “I think I can see why James won’t come with you to this place.”

  “What?” Justine nearly shouted, as she shoved at my bicep.

  “I’m just saying, most men won’t come some place with scones and such a wide varieties of teas. Speaking of, which one are you getting?”

  “I’m thinking the Ginger Mango. It’s rainy and I’ll be jonesing for a nap, so hopefully this will give me a pick-me-up. What about you?”

  Yeah, I could’ve used a pick-me-up too, but seeing as I hadn’t been sleeping well at night these days, I was cutting back on my caffeine. “I’m thinking the Bourbon Street vanilla roobios.”

  Justine leveled a hard look at me. “There is no caffeine in that, you know?”

  I nodded. “Believe me I know. I haven’t been sleeping well, so...”

  “Oh, I forgot. I’m sorry. Say no more. I didn’t sleep well in the thick of things, either.”

  Our server had just delivered our lunches when my phone rang. I had opted for the crab quiche, and no way was I going to eat that cold, so when I saw Trent was calling my thumb dismissed the call reflexively.

  Justine arched a brow at me. “Do I even have to ask?”

  “Nope.”

  She pushed a chunk of omelet around on her plate. “Did you throw him out yet?”

  I pressed my lips together. This was the first time anyone asked me that outright. I shook my head. “Honestly, my gut tells me it’s better to get the heck out of that house when Trent isn’t around.”

  “You’re joking?”

  Again, I shook my head. “Not even a little bit. He’s so gung-ho about making it to the state representatives and keeping up appearances. It really seems like the best thing is for me to leave, and let him keep up a charade if that’s what he wants to do.”

  “Wow,” she muttered. “Any idea on where you’ll go?”

  “Yeah, my father —God love ‘im— has decreed I will stay in a condo he owns and my rent will be his HOA fees. Though to be honest, those might be pretty steep since it’s on the river.”

  I forked up some quiche and was thrilled with how fluffy and flavorful it was, plus the crust was thick yet flaky. “You’ve got to try this quiche, Justine.”

  “No, thank you. That might not sit well with my omelet. You know, if money’s an issue, you could stay with me if you need a place to crash.”

  I smiled. “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind, but seeing as I have no job, my father’s likely to be the most understanding landlord out there.”

  Justine nodded. “That’s right. I forgot you’ve been doing the politician’s wife gig. Will any of that bolster your resume?”

  I shrugged as I thought about it. “The biggest problem is that my years of being out of the paralegal business have hurt me.”

  “That’s weird. You wouldn’t think that would be an issue.”

  “Yeah, but it’s more affordable to hire someone with less experience, but who hasn’t been out of the mix for five years. Besides, I’m not so sure going back to the paralegal world is for me.”

  “Really? Going to fully re-invent yourself?”

  My lips twisted into a grimace. “I wouldn’t go that far, but part of me would love to be a project manager or something. Between bits of my paralegal work and the past years organizing political soirées and such, I feel like I would do really well in that capacity.”

  Justine whipped her phone out, and sent a couple of texts. It was strange, mainly because she was nearly as etiquette-conscious as me. When her phone chimed, she looked up at me, grinning. “What do you think about information technology?”

  I smiled and dipped my chin a little. “I don’t know. Why do you ask?”

  “James and his brother Bobby run their own IT firm. Bobby’s assistant put in her notice three weeks ago, but they weren’t able to find someone they liked in time before she left. Last week was sheer hell for all of them, and I might be wrong, but I’m thinking you would be perfect to fill the slot. At least meet with them to find out. What do you say?”

  “It can’t hurt. If nothing else it will hone my interviewing skills.”

  CHAPTER 7

  MY FATHER INSISTED I come see his condo, and he did so by calling while I was at brunch with Justine. I wasn’t all fired-up to comply, and not just because I was dependent on Justine for a ride. Truly, a condo was a condo, and adding to it that I was forcing Justine to drop me somewhere besides home, it was just too much. However, as he was prone to do, my father wouldn’t take no for an answer, and I relented.

  I ended the call with my father and looked to Justine. “Would you mind terribly, dropping me by the Club Continental? I have to meet my father there, and–”

  “Janie! Get real. The Club Continental is on my way home. Do you need to drop by anywhere else before we go there?”

  I wobbled my head as I thought about it. “Nah. I would say a car rental place, but Dad’s short on time, so no.”

  We paid our bills and headed over to Dad’s condo.

  While she drove, I downloaded and installed a car rental app on my phone. Being without wheels in the Jacksonville area was unbearable, no matter what my girl Andrea might say to the contrary. There wasn’t enough mass transit available, and the utter sprawl of suburbia prevented people from walking most places.

  As Justine parked her Buick, I felt her gaze on me from the driver’s side. “I know you think this is only temporary, but no matter how temporary it might be, should you throw a housewarming, I want to come. This is primo real estate and I can only imagine how great the views must be.”

  I smiled. “Once I’m settled, you feel free to drop by anytime. My dad’s already here; you feel like coming up?”

  Her smile telegraphed her reluctance. “Normally, I would, because I’m so grateful for all the help your father’s been in referring clients, but I just can’t. Bad time of year.”

  I squeezed her forearm quickly. “Believe me I get it. That’s why he’s so pressed for time, himself. So, I’ll get out of your hair so you can get back to it. I’ll call you next week.”

  I approached the outer door to the lobby and realized I had no idea what the code was for entry. Then I saw my father striding toward the glass door.

  He held it open for me. “I didn’t see you drive up. Where on earth did you park?”

  I pressed my lips together for a beat. “I didn’t.”

  Dad stutter-stepped as we moved to the bank of elevators. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I was having a late breakfast with Justine and she drove me.”

  “Mimosas? On a Monday, dear?” he asked as we stepped into the elevator.

  The elevator doors slid closed. “No, Dad. I just don’t have my car.”

  He sighed. “What aren’t you telling me now?”

  “Can we wait until we’re inside?”

  The irritation coming from my father was nearly palpable as we sauntered down the hallway to his unit. He made quick work of unlocking the door and ushering me inside. When he closed and locked the door, his arms were crossed on his chest as he faced me.

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “I met with my lawyer this morning. When I was leaving, a tow truck and a police officer were there to impound my car.”

  “The hell you say! On what grounds?”

  “The owner reported it stolen.”

  “You are the owner of the vehicle.”

  I tilted my head a fraction. “Only Trent’s name is on the registration.”

  My father stared down at his shoes, uttering a string of curses under his breath. His hand went behind his neck and he looked up at me. “And to think I thought he was good enough for you. Hell, I actually liked him.”

  I shrugged. “Anyway. I have a credit card in my name only, that I’ve maintained. I used it
to rent a car from Enterprise and seeing as they pride themselves on picking you up, they’re delivering the car here, hopefully within the hour.”

  He dropped his hand from his neck, moved into the empty room further, but resumed his crossed-arm stance. “You’re renting a car?”

  I shook my head. “Dad, I’m not going to let him control me. That’s what this morning was all about. He’s trying to exert his so-called power since I wouldn’t sleep in the same bed as him last night.”

  “He didn’t try to–”

  “No. He didn’t. I know you’re pressed for time, so do I need to fill out special paperwork for the condo board here or something?”

  His head tilted and his eyes told me not to be silly. “You’re my daughter. You got as much right to be here as I do as far as I’m concerned. I know your lawyer has advised you to stay in the house, but if you’re the least bit fearful, you stay here. No hesitation, you got it? Here,” he fished in his pants pocket and came up with a set of keys. “Those are yours. Code to get in the lobby is your mother’s birthday.”

  “Really?”

  “‘Really,’ what?”

  “You didn’t change it after the divorce?”

  He laughed mirthlessly. “Why would I? Hate to break it to you, Punky, but you get to a certain age, there’s only so many passwords and sets of numbers you can easily remember. Your mother’s birthday is one of them. Lucky for you, I’m pretty sure you can remember it too.”

  I shrugged. “Well, I can definitely do that. I just thought you hated her after the divorce. Especially after what you said the other morning.”

  His face softened. “Honey. I don’t hate her. I could never hate her. I just really hate what she did to us.”

  I couldn’t bring my eyes to his because the thing was, divorce was a lot like marriage. It took two to make it work...or not. I didn’t blame him, and I didn’t blame my mother. Now that I was moving through the process of my own divorce, I knew the blame fell on both people involved. My mother didn’t do something to them on her own, and I didn’t like hearing him insinuate that she did. As luck had it, I would never know the intimate details of it and I didn’t really want to.