But that big truck had no such issue. That driver was able to sling a hard left too, but remained on all four wheels. And before their SUV could slam down on all fours again too, that truck rammed into them again, causing them to flip sideways in a drop and bounce, drop and bounce that didn’t stop dropping and bouncing until they were just rolling and rolling and kicking up gravel and taking down tree limbs as they rolled. Until the momentum caused them to finally slow down and stop.
The gunman in the pickup truck waited to see if there was any movement inside that SUV. He waited for several seconds. When he saw there was none, and before the police could get there, they sped away. Nobody, they were convinced, could have survived that crash.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
He keyed in the code to his front door still angry and confused. He came all this way for her bullshit? He couldn’t believe it. As he opened his door, he was phoning her again. But still no answer. She wasn’t at the hospital. They didn’t even have a suicide attempt to come in all day. What kind of game was she playing at?
He entered his home, slammed the door shut with a back kick of his shoe, and made his way around the foyer. He was just about to phone her again. But was met with a surprise. “Kem?” he asked.
“One in the same.”
She was seated in one of his chairs, her legs folded, her hands poised as if she was the queen of Sheba. And it just pissed him off. “How did you get in my house?”
“One of your maids let me in before she left. I told her I left my bra in your bedroom, and she wanted no parts of that. I gladly entered, she left, and I stayed. I knew you’d come.” Then she smiled. Which made his skin crawl. To think he once thought that psycho was wife material. “Wanna fuck?” she asked him.
Was she insane? “Fuck no!” he said emphatically. “I want you to get out of my house!”
She stood up. And her smile was gone. “Make me,” she said.
Hawk tossed his phone on a side table and began to hurry toward her.
“Get him, boys,” she said, looking beyond him.
And before Hawk could turn around, two big, burly men appeared, grabbed him from behind and began beating him down with a golf club and a baseball bat and their fists and their shoes and anything else they could beat him down with.
Hawk was trying to fight back, but he was flailing at air. They were too big, too powerful and the element of surprise that had been on their side still gave them the advantage. They beat his ass.
Kemberly watched the whole thing. She relished in it. And when they finally dropped him, and he was coughing up blood, her face lid up. “We should have fucked,” she said. Then that look of hate in her eyes returned. And she, followed by her “boys” walked out of his front door. They left him for dead.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The next day, Janita arrived at the Brackenridge Medical Center with a change of clothing for Von. After their horrific crash yesterday, Janita miraculously got out without a scratch, but Von was knocked unconscious. The doctor kept him overnight for observation. But he was otherwise okay too.
He hopped off that hospital bed when she came into the room like he couldn’t wait to get out of there. He was already showered and was in his hospital gown waiting for his clean underwear and clothes.
“Hey,” Janita said as she sat the overnight bag on his bed. “How do you feel?”
“A little stiff,” he said as he unzipped the bag, “but I’m good.” He looked at his sister. “What about you?”
“A little stiff,” she said too, “but thank God we’re alive. You should have seen our SUV.”
“A total loss?”
“Are you kidding me, yes! Total. It was a mangled mess. How we survived,” she said, and shook her head.
Von pulled out the clothes he needed but stopped and looked at his sister again before he went into the bathroom to dress. Their SUV was how they made a living. A security company like theirs had to provide transportation. Now they had none? Which meant they had no business. Von was thinking that maybe Hawk could give them a loan until the insurance company paid up. “Did he call you back?” he asked her.
Janita shook her head. “No.”
“You should have left another message.”
“I left several messages, DeVontay. Last night and this morning too. But he hasn’t returned any of my calls, okay?”
“Don’t tear my head off. I was just asking a question.”
The stress and strain were all over Janita’s pretty face. “I’m sorry,” she said. “We don’t have any way of making any money right now. And because it was a hit and run, our insurance company doesn’t know who to sue.”
“The police think it was road rage,” said Von. “But why would somebody be enraged with us when we didn’t do nothing to them?”
