Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“You okay, Mom?” I ask.
She nods.
But she’s lying. How can she be okay? My mother has been to hell and back. First with Falcon, and then with me and my illness. And now with this horrific crime that took place in our own home. Maybe our lunch yesterday helped a little…but only a little.
Finally, she gathers her composure. “Breakfast, Ray?”
“Sure, Mom. Two eggs, scrambled. Toast.”
My mother robotically prepares my breakfast. I want to tell her I can fix my own breakfast, or that I’m not hungry—which I’m not, but I know I’ll eat anyway. But she needs her routine. She thrives on it.
She prepares my breakfast and places it in front of me on the table, along with her signature tall glass of orange juice.
I drink it all without complaint.
I’ll pay for it later with the heartburn, but it makes Mom happy.
“I think I’ll try to contact another attorney about my nonprofit,” I say once I’m done with my breakfast.
Mom jerks around, looking me straight in the eye. “You’re still going to do that?”
“Yeah, I think so. I considered not doing it, in light of what happened to Mr. Latham. I thought maybe I would go back to school. But no. I want to do my nonprofit. I’ve already thought of a name for it.”
“Oh?” Mom’s tone is noncommittal.
“Yeah. Raven’s Wings. Isn’t that a great name?”
“You’re naming it after yourself?”
I purse my lips. “Is that not good?”
She blinks for a moment and then shakes her head. “I’m sorry, honey. Raven’s Wings is a great name. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”
She doesn’t need to explain herself. I know exactly what’s gotten into her, and so does she.
I place a hand on her upper arm. “Mom, everything’s going to be okay.”
She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath in, and then sighs. “Raven, I don’t want you in this position. I don’t want you in a position where you’re telling me that everything’s going to be okay. That’s my job. I’m the mother here. I need to be taking care of you.”
I chuckle lightly. “That would be true if I were five or ten. Or even eighteen. But I’m nearly thirty years old, Mom. Yes, I’ve been through hell. And yes, a crime was committed here in our home. A perfectly heinous and horrific crime. We’re all rattled. Any sane person would be. So I think it’s perfectly fine for me to do the soothing for a bit, Mom. We have to face what happened. Just like I had to face my illness, and we all had to face Falcon’s incarceration. We’ll face it head on, like we face everything else. And we can make it a heck of a lot easier if we support each other through it.”
Mom smiles then. “You amaze me, Raven. Such internal strength you have.”
I walk toward her and give her a hug.
I hate to tell her that she’s wrong. She’s wrong about my internal strength. I won’t deny that I have it, but I don’t have any more than anyone else. I’ve just had to rely on mine more than the average person. Because when push comes to shove, you play the hand you’re dealt. To do anything else would be to give up.
And Bellamys don’t give up.
18
VINNIE
I slam the door to my grandfather’s office. “You fucking son of a bitch.”
He clears his throat from behind his desk. “Good morning to you too, Vincent.”
“Your move, Cobra? You had a man killed and placed in Raven Bellamy’s bed. His throat slit. With a message. For me.”
He folds his hands neatly in front of him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I cross the office and pound my fists against the wood of his desk. “That’s a crock, and we both know it. It’s probably all over the news.”
“If it happened at the Bellamys’ home? No, it’s not all over the news.” He strokes his chin. “They kept their son’s incarceration quiet eight years ago. It was only on local news, and that was only because a cop was killed. The killer’s name was rarely mentioned.”
“This time it’s not a cop. It’s an attorney. An attorney from here in Austin. So I’m sure you’ve heard the news.”
He looks up at me, his face wholly noncommittal. “And what makes you think I’m involved?”
I roll my eyes. “You really think you’re smart, don’t you? You really think that you’re so big and powerful that no one will ever challenge you. You left a note, Grandpa. You know damned well you left a note. That note was for me.”
“Because it said ‘Cobra?’”
“Yep. And we both know that the only person who ever called me Cobra was Diego Vega, who’s dead. And the only other person who heard him say that was you.”
“And your own father,” Grandfather says.
“Yeah.” I stare at him from across the desk. “And I bet it was really easy for him to get out of prison and arrange a hit on a lawyer at the Bellamys’ house.”