Page 6 of Feral
I pause for a moment, arching an eyebrow at her. “The day of the accident Jenni was feeling angry and frustrated and she chose just before the race to confess her sins to her husband. As you can imagine, Marc was livid. He was cussing me out, saying all kinds of nasty things I may very well have deserved. It took three men to hold him back from jumping me but the race went on as planned. We got into our cars and Marc tried to maneuver me into the railings. I fought back and he went spiraling into the barriers at 280 miles per hour. Both our cars caught fire. His exploded, killing him instantly. Mine didn’t.”
Pausing again, I watch as she scribbles furiously into her notepad.
“The medical crew pulled me out of the car half-dead. Is there any other particularly vulgar detail about that day you'd like me to reminisce about for your writing pleasure, Miss Stone?”
She looks up from her notes to meet my eyes.
“Far from it, Mr. Broussard. The way I see it, the accident wasn’t your fault. Apart from your intoxication, you were only trying to defend yourself.”
“Under Louisiana's criminal law, that's vehicular homicide, I’ll have you know. Serious enough to get a man behind bars for a quarter of his life if not more. I was lucky to only get ten.”
“Seven, with parole,” she cheerfully corrects as I turn to look at the clock over the mantel.
Finally.“Your time’s up.”
She takes the hint, puts the notebook back in her bag, and stands.
“For the record, I think you deserved better than Jenni. She's been known to have her sights set on handsome, wealthy men.”
“And you would know this how? Don’t believe everything you read in sleazy tabloids like the one you probably work for.” I scrub my hand across my face before continuing.
“And maybe you need to take a long, hard look at me,” I add, as I slowly stand. “It’s been a long fucking time since anyone called me handsome. And I was definitely not wealthy last time I checked.”
“I’ll have you know that Manhattan Express is one of the most respectable newspapers in NYC, Mr. Broussard,” she retorts, her voice now laced with resentment.
I shrug, and attempt to escort her to the door but, naturally, she beats me to it.
Fat raindrops are starting to splash against the windows and I wonder if the heavens are going to grant me my wish.
“Not much of a talker, are you, Mr. Broussard?” she says, turning around to watch me make my way to her. “I thought you might be more forthcoming after all that time spent inside. The public isn't too fond of you as you may very well know. I thought you deserve a chance to tell things from your point of view instead of what the tabloids rehash since your release.”
I catch her staring at my legs for the briefest of moments and it sends a chill down my spine. I force a smile, trying to hold my tongue but it’s impossible with her rattling me this way.
“You think so, huh? Do you think I give a fuck what people or the Press think about me? Did it ever cross your mind I could be the monster everyone believes I am? Maybe everything I just told you is a lie. Maybe it was me who went after Marc. I had the motive. Hell, I even had the perfect opportunity.” My voice has lost any semblance of compassion or regret, bitterness and anger taking reign now.
She clears her throat, still holding my gaze. “You never struck me as the killing kind, Mr. Boussard. You are a man who’s had his fill of the world. I’ve heard the stories.”
“Well, don’t believe everything you hear, Miss Stone. The world is full of liars and cheats.Allons, mon cher, c’est tout.”
I open the door and wait until she steps out.
She hesitates for a few fleeting seconds, then looks me straight in the eyes.
“Goodbye, Mr. Broussard. Thanks for the water. And your precious time.”
With her back facing me, I watch her hips sway as she heads toward the dock.
A few minutes later, she's fumbling with something, then turns to stare at me incredulously.
What is it now?
Chapter 4
Jacob
“What’s the matter, Miss Stone? Did you break a nail or something?” I scoff, half-curious to see what's got her panties in a twist.
She turns around, walks closer, and raises her hand, waving a small piece of paper.
