CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
As much as I loved helping Marcel out last week, now I’m scrambling to catch up with all my work.
It was worth it though.
Spending so much time together. Seeing how sweet he is with his baby niece.
I’m more in love with him than ever.
I’m at court for a settlement conference, but the other side isn’t here yet. Anxiety swirls in my stomach the longer I wait.
My phone buzzes and I snatch it out of my briefcase.
Carter: Call me as soon as you’re out of court.
Carter doesn’t send me emergency texts often, so I step out of the courtroom and into the hallway to call him.
“What’s going on?”
“It’s Mom.”
I heave out an annoyed breath. “What now?”
“She’s dead.”
“What? Oh my God. Are you sure?”
He lets out a sad sigh. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Where are you?”
“At the house. The coroner just left.”
“Jesus, why didn’t you call me right away?”
“Honestly, Char, it all happened so fast. I got up, found her in the living room.”
“Carter, I’m so sorry. I’m leaving right now.”
“No. Do what you’ve gotta do. I need to get out of the house.”
“Come to my place.”
“I can’t right now.” He pauses. “Chuck’s being a dick.”
“You called him before you called me?”
“No, one of the sheriffs knows him and called.”
I’m at a loss. Unsure of what the hell I’m supposed to do now. Weighed down by guilt since I hadn’t seen my mother in a couple weeks and had been pretty damn happy without her constant stream of criticism.
We hang up and I step back inside the courtroom, calling over to the clerk and explaining my situation.
On my way back to my office, I call David and ask if he can juggle my calendar for a few days.
“Of course, I’ll take care of it, Charlotte. I’m really sorry. Do you want me to come to the funeral?”
Funeral. I don’t even know where my mother wanted to be buried. If she wanted to be buried.
“Charlotte?”
“No, it’s okay David. If I don’t have to worry about work, it will be a huge help.”
“I’ll take care of it,” he promises.
I don’t call or text Marcel because I don’t know what to say. I realize I’d rather see him in person than tell him over the phone.
Chuck’s pacing on the sidewalk in front of my office when I arrive. “Where the fuck you been?” he snarls as soon as he sees me.
Taken aback by his tone I answer in a shaky voice, “Court. I left as soon as Carter called.” I should know better than to expect any comfort or sympathy from my uncle, but his attitude still stings. “What happened?”
“They don’t know yet. The coroner thinks she had a heart attack,” he answers as he follows me inside.
“How? She’s not that old.”
“Does it really matter, Char?”
No, I suppose it doesn’t.
I sit down at the reception desk and flip through my calendar, writing out a bunch of notes for David. “I’m waiting for a friend to stop by so I can give him my office key.”
“Good. You drop Teller?” His gruff tone makes me stop and glance up at him.
“What? No.”
He works his jaw from side to side while I finish my notes. I stand and run down to my office to grab a few files. When I return, Chuck doesn’t seem any calmer. Anger surrounds him.
His way of coping? Were his feelings for my mother more than I realized?
I’m considering what to say when he narrows his eyes and backs me against the wall, casually pressing his forearm against my throat.
You know, casual, like it’s no big deal to cut off his niece’s air supply.
It fucking hurts.
Gasping, I scratch his arm. He removes his arm from my neck and I gulp for air.
“What the—”
He grabs my hands, pinning them in front of me, then returns his forearm to my throat.
“What’re you doing?” I gasp out each word, shock and pain stealing my voice.
Hot tears prickle at the corners of my eyes.
He bares his teeth and pushes his face closer to mine. “Keep that fuckin’ prick away from your mother’s funeral. You hear me, girlie?”
Too shocked to respond, I struggle to break free.
As if he just realized what he’s doing, he drops his arm from my throat, and steps back.
But the damage is done.
He runs his hands through his hair. “Losing your mom’s bad enough, I don’t wanna deal with that asshole when I’m burying her for fuck’s sake,” he snarls. “I’ll break his fuckin’ skull.” He drops his voice even lower. “You don’t want to be responsible for your boy getting hurt, right?”
I shake my head, but can’t seem to form the word no.
“You’re not gonna say anything about our chat today either. Are you, Char?” When I don’t respond fast enough, he lightly slaps my cheek. “Maybe you should. Our clubs get into it and he’ll hate you anyway. It’ll certainly turn his brothers against both of ya. Solve all my problems.”
Still stunned, mind spinning, I can’t speak.
My front door opens. “Hey, everything all right? Charlotte?” David asks.
Taking a few more steps away from me, my uncle holds up his hands.
Hot shame races over my skin. I fluff my hair and straighten my blouse to hide any evidence of what happened. It’s an automatic, primitive response. Inside, I’m angry with myself for feeling ashamed when I didn’t do anything wrong. “Uh, David, this is my Uncle Chuck. Chuck, this is a friend of mine…” my hoarse voice trails off as the two men stare at each other.
They couldn’t be more opposite.
While my uncle’s a jerk, he’s also an intimidating man. Never mind the ink around his neck and rippling over his arms and hands. He towers over David.
He holds out his hand and David’s slow to shake it. “You the one helping my niece out?”
“Yes. I’m sorry for your loss,” David answers in his smooth courtroom tone.
Chuck turns and smirks. “This is the type of guy you should be dating, Char. Not wasting your time with Teller.”
Completely shaken and mortified, fire races over my cheeks. My anger at this whole situation intensifies, but before I scream fuck off and get out, he rattles off the address of the funeral home and gives me a time to meet him there. Then he pets my head like I’m a damn dog.
I suppose it looks like a loving gesture to David, but he can’t see the painful tug Chuck gives my hair as he rubs his thumb over my cheek. “Remember what I said. Don’t make me do something you’ll regret.”
Then he’s shouldering his way out the door past a stunned David.
“Christ, Charlotte. I didn’t know you were related to thugs.” He laughs, a thin high sound and shifts on his feet. “Now I’m scared if I mess up your cases, you’ll send him to kill me.”
“Don’t be,” I mutter, still trying to absorb what just happened.
Chuck threatened me.
Worse, he threatened Marcel. The man I love. I can’t tell Marcel what went down. That my uncle hurt me. Chuck’s right. Telling Marcel about this visit could spark a war between the Lost Kings and the Wolf Knights.
I can’t be responsible for dragging Marcel’s club, his family, into a conflict that has nothing to do with them and everything to do with my crazy blood relatives. I love Marcel too much to put him in such an awkward position. I can’t do that to him.
My hand goes to my neck, rubbing at the soreness. How can I protect Marcel, when I can’t even protect myself?
What am I going to do?
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