Go to Hail (The Hail Raisers Book 2)(83)

By: Lani Lynn Vale



I say thought because about six months into that pregnancy, my ex-wife, Rachel, had told me that she was no longer in love with me anymore. Oh, and that the child she was currently carrying wasn’t mine, but my best friend’s.

So yeah, I had fucking issues, and anger wasn’t the only reason for them.

Being fucked up was the reason.

It just so happened that the judge that had let me off for my ‘good behavior’ early had mandated that I see a psychologist that could help me work with those ‘issues.’

“I remember everything from the moment that the first cop shot me in the chest with a fucking sandbag.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Language like that is not needed to tell this story, Mr. Casey.”

Goddamn, but she sounded like a haughty librarian that was chastising me for talking too loud in the library.

She dressed like one, that was for sure.

She was wearing a black blouse that was buttoned up from the crook of her elbows, and then from the top of her collarbone all the way into the high waisted, skin tight, black skirt. A skirt that came down to her knees.

She was wearing what looked to be stockings, too, but I could neither confirm nor deny that.

Not without actually checking by pushing that tight skirt up, anyway.

“Sorry, Ms. Hanes,” I apologized, trying to make it sound genuine.

Apparently, I didn’t accomplish it, because she closed the leather-bound book she was writing in and uncrossed those goddamn legs.

She placed both high-heeled feet on the floor and stood up to her full height, which was all of five foot four, at most.

The heels she was wearing, however, made her height lengthen to about five seven, if I had to guess.

“That’s forty-five minutes,” she said, looking at her watch. “Thursday when you come in, we’ll start where you left off, all right?”

I shrugged and stood, too.

Then I walked toward the door without a backwards glance.

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