Page 121 of Misguided

“Good,” is the only response she offers.

I rise from the chair, touching Dog on the arm as I move to the side of her bed so she’s forced to look at me. “Hi, Lorelle.”

“You already said that,” she snaps.

Okay …“Do—Koen’s had a real hard time trying to decide what’s best to do. He really hoped you’d help with that.”

“Seems ridiculous if you ask me.” Her sharp blue eyes snap to mine. “He wants my advice whether he should tell the truth or lie.”

“Come on, Mel,” Dog snaps as he heads for the door. “Save your breath.”

I ignore him, choosing to continue eyeballing Lorelle instead. “Why are you here?” Dog never told me her reason for being in the hospital, just that she was.

“She tried to top herself,” Dog answers.

I flash him a glare to let him know I’m not impressed with his cold-as-fuck reply. “I’d like to hear Lorelle answer me.”

His sister-in-law nods when I look back to her. “He’s right, sort of.”

I frown, tucking my chin to my chest. “Sort of?”

“I could have died, yes, but I didn’t do it to myself.” She stares right at Dog.

“What?” Dog steps further into the room again.

Lorelle looks around Dog, as though expecting somebody else to walk in. “Your dad told me not to say anything.”

“Fuck him.” Dog steps beside me, leaning a little toward Lorelle. “What happened?”

Her eyes roll up and she shakes her head rapidly while sucking in a deep breath. “What can you do?”

“Try me.”

“Why did Rollan ask you to keep quiet?” I try for a different tactic.

It seems to work. “He said it would jeopardize Derek’s chances.”

Dog simply has to lift his eyebrows, and it seems all the coaxing she needs to get the weight off her chest.

“When we were advised of the charges, when the IRS returned the outcome of their audit, he lost it.” She snorts. “You’d think he would be upset at the prospect of being tried and found guilty, right?”

“Sure,” I say.

“Well, he was mostly mad because it meant he’d lost the cash flow for his habit.”

“He a user?” Dog asks.

Lorelle shakes her head. “Nope. He’s a gambler.”

“How much?” he asks.

“It’s irrelevant,” Lorelle answers. “But it was a lot. I overheard him asking for the buy-in figure once. It was six figures.”

“Damn.” Dog steps away, running a hand over his throat. “How does that put you here, though?”

“Guess who he took that frustration out on,” she says with a bitter laugh. “Didn’t help that I’d told him the same morning I wanted a divorce.”

“So he hurt you?” I ask.