Page 23 of Untouchable
“Rita has breakfast cooking; the both of you should eat.” His heated gaze rakes over Monroe’s body, and I’m quite sure the man knows she’s expecting again. If he’s anything like she’s explained and half as intuitive as Braxton, I’d say he for sure does, and he’s giving her the time she needs to tell him in her own special way.
Excusing myself to go to the kitchen, I leave the two of them in the office with a smile on my face. Rita hums a tune as she moves around the kitchen, placing dishes on the island for us to serve ourselves.
“They’re the sweetest, aren’t they?” She smiles at me over her shoulder.
“Adorable.” I giggle when I hear the office door snick shut with a quiet click. “I can’t wait for that kind of love,” I whisper more to myself than Rita.
“From what I hear, you’ve already got it.” She shoots me a playful wink this time and declares, “Breakfast is served!”
CHAPTER16
Braxton
The small one-story cabin-like structure takes me by surprise as Porter and I stand outside, observing the quiet house in the mid-morning light. The bright yellow shutters and matching door are a contradiction to the people on the inside.
“You ready to do this?” In thirty minutes, police cruisers will be arriving to arrest Alma for stalking and conspiracy to commit murder.
“As I’ll ever be.” Dread and wariness show on his face and in his tone.
Before we’ve walked up to the house, the door opens, and standing in the frame is Alma with a scowl on her face. “Well, look who’s come home. The golden boy.”
“Hello, Mother.” Porter steps ahead of me, and I let him take the lead. “We need to talk about Jossilyn.” She scoffs and rolls her eyes.
“I don’t even want to think about that whore.” I raise my brows at that. The last thing Joss is, is a whore. I should know since it was her virgin blood soaking my cock not long ago.
“Not even to plot her death with Kaidence?” I ask casually, coming up behind Porter.
Shock flares her eyes before she schools her features. “Kaidence didn’t do anything.”
“That’s not what she’s in Denver telling the cops after shooting Trusen at one of Jossilyn’s signings,” Porter points out, surprising me by not letting his emotions get the best of him. “She nearly killed your son.” He hisses the words with all the anger he’s feeling.
“Perhaps he shouldn’t have been willing to protect someone who deserves everything coming to her.” It’s the way she says it that sends a flash of warning off inside me. There’s more; there’s something we’re missing.
“Where’s your other daughter?” I wonder out loud, glancing around the windows of the house. I know when they first moved here, they lived with Alma’s family, but they’ve been in this place for a little over a year now. The house isn’t big enough for the other young woman to hide in.
“Out” is all the woman gives us.
“Where?” I insist on knowing. “Where is she?” I won’t let it go. There is more going on than a mother and daughter plotting the death of another daughter. “How much of this has Gideon plotted out for you women to execute?” Her eyes flare again, giving away her guilt and that of her husband.
“Ma, seriously, you’re going to prison. Kaidence is going to prison. You can’t do this kind of shit and think you can get away with it. If Anastasia is part of this, she’s going to get caught, and I will send her behind bars myself if I have to.”
“You son of a bitch,” she hisses at him.
Porter shakes his head. “You’re every bit as fucking useless as I remember. Did you never think you had the opportunity to be better, do better, mend fences with your children?” She rolls her eyes, and I know we’re done here.
Three cruisers pull up to the sidewalk, and the color drains from her face as she watches them exit their vehicles and begin striding forward, hands on the guns at their hips.
“Mrs. Alma Marlowe?” the one in the lead asks. She raises her head and grows tense as they approach closer.
“I am.” I shake my head at the pride in her tone. The woman is too lost to her own delusion to realize her life is over. She argues her way through the reading of her rights and the listing charges, right up to being forced into the back of the car.
Porter remains on the small porch as they haul his mother away. Looking back at him, hands on his hips, head thrown back, and eyes closed, I can tell the toll this has taken on the young man.
“How you doing, Port?” The street is quiet again, and neighbors have stopped whispering and returned to their homes.
Blowing out a breath, he looks me in the eye. “Relieved. Like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.” A tentative smile crosses his face. “She should have been charged along with my father. Everything that happened to Sage and Joss, she had a hand in. Hell, sometimes it was her idea.”
“You can let it all go now,” I tell him. I know he’s felt responsible for years. Doesn’t matter that I haven’t spoken to him about it, I could see it from the moment I came back into their lives.