Page 90 of Broken Butterfly
I think my mouth drops open a little in amazement, not shock. “Ryder, he doesn’t have to do that. I can pay for someone to fix it up. I don’t want to take advantage of your dad like that.”
“Sweetheart, you’ve been part of the family since the day we met. Mom and Dad would do anything for you.”
“But—”
Ryder edges closer. “No buts,” he says against the shell of my ear and gives it a small kiss under the lobe. “He wants to do it for you, so let him. Don’t be surprised if he kicks up the HP by 300 and adds red rims.”
“Actually, that would be awesome.” I brighten up thinking of other mods I could get Randy to add. I take my phone out and do a quick web search on compatible NOS nitrous systems.
“I’m sorry I said anything. Your Cheshire grin is making me nervous.” He peeks over and guffaws at my screen. “Oh, hell no, Elizabeth.”
“Will you at least think about it? Pretty please? Pretty, pretty please with whipped cream and a cherry and chocolate sauce?”
“Sounds like my kind of party,” Fallon mirthfully quips, walking in like he owns the place. An older man in a well-pressed dark gray suit follows him in.
“Why am I not surprised?” I give him a small eye roll when he winks at me.
“I apologize for Mr. Montgomery’s manners. I’m Charles Worthington. The lawyer,” he announces, extending his hand out to me in a greeting that I stand up from my seat to accept. He carries an aura of authority but has a friendly smile. “And you must be Elizabeth Fairchild.”
“Yes,” I slowly reply, giving a skeptical glance toward Fallon. “Fallon, why would you bring a lawyer?”
“Patience, kitten.”
The young police officer comes back in. “Everything is in order, Miss Fairchild.” He hands me a piece of paper. “Your case number is at the top with a description of the damage. You will want to give a copy of this to your insurance company so you can file a claim. My number here is listed at the bottom if you need to reach me. If we find out anything, we will call you.”
Mr. Worthington hands the officer his business card. “Did you check the campus security and video feeds yet?”
“They are getting that request in right now.”
“How long?”
“Shouldn’t take much longer, sir.”
“Good. We’ll wait then. I’m Miss Fairchild’s attorney.”
“You are?” I stupidly ask.
Fallon sits down across from me and Ryder. “Yep.”
“Fallon.”
“Kitten,” he responds in a voice that lets me know I won’t win any arguments. He waits for Charles to sit down and then points those ice blue eyes at Ryder. “My guy came back with some info. You’re not going to like it, hoss.”
Fallon and Ryder do that silent communication mind-meld thing that drives me crazy.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” Ryder half shouts. “Are you sure?” Ryder asks him, but his tone is as rigid as the hard expression that shrouds his face.
“Positive.”
Ryder pivots in the plastic and metal seat to face me. He takes both my hands in his like a parent would when giving a child bad news. “I think we need to make an official police complaint.”
“Isn’t that what we just did?”
“Elizabeth, you’ve had people verbally harass you. You, just an hour ago, told me about the text message which you should have told me about when it first happened. Now this. It’s past time we reported this to the police.”
“This is where I come in Miss Fairchild,” Mr. Worthington explains. “Do you know Maria Santiago?”
“Yes,” I answer lamely.
