Page 109 of Resist

“I’d like to speak to your supervisor,” I say, so far over this it’s ridiculous.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t think you’re doing your job properly. While Brian sits and wines and dines and plays you—”

“How dare you accuse me of impropriety—”

“Exactly. How dare you accuse me of trying to sell the rights to my niece to pay down my debt.” I clear my throat and pinch the bridge of my nose to try to calm myself down. “While all of this is going on, an eight-year-old little girl with special needs who needs stability and love and patience is sitting all alone, day in, day out, in a group home.”

“They are meeting her needs.”

“Meeting her needs is a bullshit way to say she’s in the system. A system that’s broken at best and not skilled to suit her needs in the way that I can. I’ve been to every doctor’s appointment with her when my sister was alive and now that she’s gone. I’ve learned her education protocol. I’ve taken classes on how to best stimulate and challenge and expand her horizons so that she can grow up to be as independent as possible. I’ve held her when she cries because she misses her mother and when she lashes out because seeing her dad brings back the dysfunction the drugs created in her house. You tell me which one of any of those things Brian has done. You tell me when he has loved her unconditionally except when showing his cards like he did today, wanting to sell her off to feed that habit of his. The same habit that helped to kill my sister.”

“Ms. Sanders—”

“No. Don’t ‘Ms. Sanders’ me. I want the name of your supervisor, and I want it now.”

“I’m not allowed to give that out.”

My laugh borders on hysteria as I think of the dozens of things I can say to her about how since I help to pay her government paycheck, she damn well can give me her supervisor’s name, but I figure I’ve pissed her off enough.

“I would appreciate it if you would have your supervisor call me at her earliest convenience, please,” I say in my most reserved of voices.

Priscilla clears her throat. “I assure you that’s not necessary.”

“And I assure you it is.”

I end the call and lean back against the couch, close my eyes, and try to process how it is Brian continually tries to ruin everything good in my life.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Ryker

She’s stunning.

That’s the easiest way to describe the woman who walks into my office. The one who Bella told me needed to see me but wanted her identity kept confidential. She’s statuesque and confident, with a power suit on that hints at curves but goes more for sophistication and a purse that could rival my mother’s in expense.

Always one to read someone, I watch her take a seat without me offering it first, fold her perfectly manicured hands in her lap, and then flutter those chocolate-colored eyes my way.

Her anonymity aside, this woman knows how to capture the attention of a man.

And most definitely how to use it to her advantage.

I stare at her for a beat, letting her know that while I made an exception to see her without knowing who she is, I’m the one in control here . . . not her.

“How can I help you, Miss . . . ?”

“I hear you’re the best there is.” Her voice is throaty and smooth, the subtle movement of her head letting me know she’s not convinced of what she’s heard about me.

“That depends who you’re asking.” I lean back in my chair. Two can play this game.

“I hear you take risks.”

“It seems you hear a lot of things,” I counter, and she just lifts a lone eyebrow. “Why do you care if I take risks?”

“Because my being here might end up being a conflict of interest for you.”

“Why’s that?”