Send to Kindleby Parker J. Cole
Though tears blurred Gargi’s sight, they could not mask the massive form as it stood outside the curtains. Hastily she swiped at her eyes. “What did you just say?” she repeated.
The man, hidden somewhat behind the drapes pushed them aside and stepped inside the secluded space. The area seemed to shrink in response to his tall, wide girth.
“I said I hope he rots.” The unmistakable note of pure, unadulterated sincerity scratched her already frayed nerve endings.
Maybe in other circumstances, at some other time and place, Gargi would have been alarmed by the idea of some strange man staring and peeking at their misery. Yet the last few hours had taken its toll on her. Dev’s condition threatened his survival. If he lived—
If he lived…
The idea, the thought of ‘if’ wrenched a sob from her.
Dear Jesus, please let my brother live. Don’t take him from me.
“Get out of here!” she screeched. “I don’t know who you are and frankly I don’t care. Just go.”
The man took another step toward her. She felt the intrusion of her personal space like a palpable insertion. He topped Dev by several inches. Broad shoulders, wide chest, and long arms with meaty hands. His hazel brown eyes contrasted with the red gold of his hair. A well-groomed beard and mustache framed the lower half of his jawline.
“I’m going to go.” The man’s voice had a gruff drawl to it. “You don’t have to know my name but I will tell you someone else’s name. Alma Bertha Reckley. She may not mean a thing to you and that piece of trash lying there but she means the world to me.”
He stabbed a long, thick finger at Dev’s prone figure. “That worthless scum stole my mama’s life savings. So, I’ll say it again. I hope he rots.”
Fire burned her skin like lava flow. A fine trembling wracked her limbs. This man, whoever he was, had no idea what he was talking about.
“My brother,” she gritted out, “did not steal anything from anyone. He was set up. There were four others involved in this scheme and they implicated him.”
“Baloney,” the man scoffed, his thin, narrow brows arching over his intent hazel brown eyes. “If he were set up, then where are these so-called conspirators? Nowhere to be found.”
Gargi stalked over to the man, barely conscious of her actions. All she knew was that she wanted to shut him up.
“Perhaps you don’t understand English well. My brother is innocent. He gave everything of himself to others. Orphanages, charities, churches, the list goes on.” Her arms flung wildly into the air. “How can a person that be the type to rob anyone?”
The man snorted. “People who don’t work for their money tend to part with it faster than those who do. Else, why spend a million dollars on a sports car?”
A haze of red blurred her vision. She snarled like a wild animal. “Get out! You have no right to be here.”
The man’s eyebrow lifted again in an arrogant way that infuriated her. Could he see the steam coming out of her ears? Why wasn’t he running away from the violent urges she fought to contain?
“I think I have every right. I want to see him either rot or do the time the good people of the U. S. of A. justice system ordered him to do.”
Every muscle in her face tightened until she thought she’d turn to stone. “Get out of here now before I call security.”
He shrugged. “Go right ahead.”
About the Author:
Parker J. Cole is a writer and radio show host who spends most of her time reading, knitting, writing, cooking, and concocting new ideas for stories. Her first novel, Dark Cherub, won Best of Spring Reading 2013 from eMediaCampaigns. She lives in Michigan with her husband and beloved dog Sarah.
Visit her site at http://www.ParkerJCole.com
