Текст книги "Wrenched"

Автор книги: Emma James

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 11 страниц)

Edge slides out of me and lifts me off his bike. The sensation of him leaving my body is enough to make me come to my senses. I’m feeling shy, awkward, and confused. I’m the one butt-naked standing in a parking lot in nothing but my flip-flops, shivering from a mixture of emotions, not just from the cooling night, but also from what I had just allowed a man to freely do to me, and the realization that I was definitely a virgin.

I mumble my thanks and grab my clothes, dressing as quickly as I can, making sure I keep my back away from his eyes so he doesn’t see the scarring. This would only lead to questions I don’t need to be answering. He hasn’t given me a second glance as he busies himself getting his jeans and boots back on, while my mind is bombarding me with questions I can’t answer.

I don’t understand. How could I have been a virgin all this time? William did things to me when I was drugged. He led me to believe I was taken every time. What did he do to me when I was hanging there?

Starting to feel sick, I grab my stomach and close my eyes as I try to center myself and keep my shit together. I have to lock these thoughts away until I can process them. I need a shower and to work through these emotions, and the only way to do that is to watch those videos.

“Hey, little lady,” Edge interrupts my thoughts, bringing me back to what has just happened between us. “Sara!” His voice is sharp and concerned. He gives my arm a little tug. “Are you with me?”

I shake my head. “Yes.” I look into those gun metal eyes.

“Are you okay?” He’s watching me, waiting for a reply. The answer to that is on the hard drive because I’m not going to be okay with what I see on it, but I need answers.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” I lie and shrug my behavior off. This is my cross to bear, and nobody else’s. “We both got what we wanted tonight.” I give him a smile I hope is convincing. He lets go of my arm.

He’s busy pouring water from a water bottle he’s taken from his saddle bag over his seat, wiping it down with a balled up t-shirt, giving me a mischievous grin. “You’re certainly someone I could do this with again, so wild and innocent.”

I should feel embarrassed at that comment, but I don’t. I’m far from wild, but maybe I’m more innocent than I thought.

“Ok. I’m gonna hit the road.” He’s making his escape, and that’s fine by me. I don’t know what you say after a hook-up.

He’s starting his bike, and I feel stupid standing here waiting for him to leave. I really should walk back inside, but I don’t.

“Take care, Sara.” He gives me one last long look, like he wants to remember my face, and then rides off. When he’s out of sight I get that horrible feeling again, like I’m being watched. I scan the back lot and see nothing. I hurry inside to get cleaned up, so I can return the key and get everything back to how it should be, again.

I need my world back on its axis even more now.

 

I smile as I leave the parking lot. She was a fuck I won’t forget in a hurry. I could have had more of that sweet and eager conquest, but I have a schedule to keep. It’s only ten o’clock; the night’s still young. I’ll take a ride over to the next big town and get myself something to eat, then I’ll come back in a couple hours and get what I came here for done. Then I’ll be gone, never looking back.

I’ve decided this time if the old bitch whore is staying at the house, I would go in quietly. If I have to fucking wake her up, I’m coming face-to-face with her before she meets an untimely end.

Leaving Sara behind has left a small twinge of regret tugging on my mind. To shed that feeling, I accelerate and ride like the wind.

 

I’ve ridden over on one of Boxer’s Harleys and parked around the side of William’s house. This is the first time I’ve been back to it since I fled. Lincoln and I have driven past, but never to it. It was liberating riding down the avenue of oak trees toward the plantation home without having to feel afraid of anybody. I’m not scared, because there’s no longer a reason to be frightened. Boxer and Miss C have shown me that.

I’m legally the owner, for a short time anyway. It gives me no joy. I’m not the rightful owner. I’m totally dumbfounded as to why William would have my name written into his will, much less leaving me the majority. It simply doesn’t make sense. I honestly didn’t believe I would outlive him and ever be free of him, so this simply floors me.

I climb the front steps, taking my helmet off and hooking it through with my arm. I take the key out of my pocket and turn the lock. The snick of it unlocking sounds deafening out here, where I’m so isolated, but I feel empowered by being able to enter through the front door.

The door sticks, so I give it a shove with my shoulder and stumble a little over the threshold. The first thing I notice is how musty the house smells.

I try the light switch, but the power has been shut off, so I’m glad I came prepared just in case. I take the flashlight I brought along out of my leather jacket pocket I have on over my hoodie and click it on.

I’m confronted with the staircase that holds a lot of the answers to the questions buzzing around in my mind. My memories start to assault my mind, starting with William lying dead at the bottom. I gasp out loud because I can see him like a hologram, face down before me. I have to shut these thoughts down, now, because I don’t need to be standing here in a dark house by myself with my little boxes popping open on me one-by-one. I shut my eyes tight and will them to stay closed so I can get down to business.

Once I have a hold of myself, I open them again and William is gone. The light beam hits the walls, which hold so many of my secrets, that I’m sure if you listened hard enough you could hear them whispering about me.

When I get back to the bar tonight, I’ll go to the safe and find out what happened to me against that staircase. I knew a reason would come up to make me have to watch them, eventually. Then I will know everything. I’m strong enough to deal with what I see on that hard drive.

I simply have to be.

All I can now see before me is a lonely, old, dusty house. William would not be pleased to know his home was not clean and sparkling.

I know Boxer kept an eye out on this place and an ear to the ground. As far as Boxer knew, nobody had come back to the house to claim it. The son had probably only just discovered his father had died.

I’m happier trusting Boxer had everything taken care of, but there’s no way he could’ve possibly known my name would come up on the will. I wonder if he even knows about a will. If he does, why didn’t he let me know? All I understood was that he’d checked all the records and I was safe from being discovered. I can’t help the questions that are banging away in my head, because none of this makes sense.

But here I stand under threat of being discovered by the son who could quite possibly challenge the will. This is why it is important I set the key and my letter down. It is my way of cleansing my hands of it all. I know it is still on paper, but I need to show that I’m happy to walk away with this small gesture.

Why hadn’t he visited in all these years, or he had, but I’d been drugged up and put into hiding? I’m going to go crazy if I don’t stop doing this to myself.

I wanted to call Boxer, but it can wait until I get back to the bar tonight. He’s done so much for me already. I’m giving the key back, which is a load off my mind already. It’s been eight months since William died, and I haven’t been discovered. That lawyer creeped me out, but there is no way he could have known everything about me.

Could he?

Am I being too gullible?

The will had my surname on it, the new one Boxer set up for me, and that is lurking in my thoughts like a dangerous plot twist. It’s worrying my mind endlessly. Somebody knows about my new identity. The pieces don’t add up, but there’s nothing I can do about it at the moment.

The more I think about it, the more it all disturbs me. I’m hoping it’s just a lawyer doing his job, making the appropriate changes to the document once he found me. Not that I know anything about wills. I’ve let Boxer do everything, when I should have asked more questions. How did the lawyer even find me?

Ignorance was bliss for me, because it was easier for me to try to forget, knowing somebody else was dealing with my troubles.

Ughh. I need Boxer.

I’ll definitely call him when I get back to the bar. I won’t be able to sleep until I know he’s been told.

The other thing preying on my mind is what went down with Edge tonight. The opportunity crossed my path, and I just wanted to forget my worries, have a good time, and I did. My body’s still humming from what that man had done to me. I don’t regret what happened. He made me feel so good; it’s hard to put into words what was going through my head when I was on his bike and he was inside me.

Edge made me feel alive in a sexual way I’ve never wanted to feel before. He unlocked something inside me that can’t be taken back. With him, it felt right. It was amazingly hot, and I will probably never get that ever again, so I’m not sorry I did it.

I felt so fucking sexy on that bike. I did something tonight that made me feel good and I was in control. He didn’t pressure me. I had choices. But he’s now long gone. It was exactly what it was and nothing more.

Sara. Got. Laid.

I. Got. Laid.

I can’t help the knowing smile from settling on my face until I remember why I’m here. Now is not the time to relive what was done to me tonight. I don’t venture any farther into the house than I need to because this is not my home.

My phone beeps, startling me. I’ve got one missed call from Boxer, and he’s just left a text message asking where I am. I’ll reply once I’ve finished up here. We have a level of trust, and I won’t lie to him. I can’t tell him I’m here because he would worry. I’ll be back at the bar in half an hour, and then I can be truthful.

I place the letter on the dining table and put the house key next to it. I hope my letter apologizes enough for my name being placed on the will, and I explain that I will be turning everything in my name over to the son.

I’m anticipating Boxer can sort this all out for me and help me contact that horrible lawyer so it can all be fixed when he gets back in a few days, and then that sleaze of a man can let the son know where to find the key.

The document I’ve received has the potential to threaten the story we have spun for the townsfolk. It threatens the secrets I want kept boxed up. I want this misunderstanding cleared up, so all will be good in my world.

There’s only one thing I want to do before I leave. I want to go and look at the garden patch because it used to be a little sanctuary for me.

The temperature has dropped, so I pull my hoodie up over my head as I head on down to my bike, placing my keys and phone inside my helmet, hooking it over my handle bar before I wander down to my little garden.

The way is lit by the full moon gracing the black sky. I don’t need my flashlight on, so I click it off. I can see the silhouette of my much loved garden patch is dried up and withered from being unattended. I love watching something grow from a seed. I enjoyed tending to all the vegetables. It makes me sad to see it like this. We relied on each other for survival. I can tell nobody has been here, probably since his death, or the garden would be healthy.

I reach out and touch a crumbled leaf, which turns to powder under my fingers. I feel like I have let it down, left it to wither and die alone, while I thrived under the care of Boxer and Miss C. It’s strange the things you hold close to your heart when there’s nothing else to hold onto.

My eyes wander over to the old wooden slave cabin, which has been standing for a tremendously long time. Those wooden walls hold more than just my secrets. Other lives have come and gone, and had lived in that cabin.

There are a lot of memories trying to break through again, so I need to get away from here and never come back. It’s not healthy being here. I came only to drop the letter and key off. I don’t want to go near that horrible lawyer ever again without Lincoln or Boxer to assist me.

“Whisper.”

My head swings to the side. Did I just hear my name called out?

I get that horrible feeling I’m being watched again. It’s such a distinct feeling. A gut feeling that makes me want to run to the bike and ride away. I know I’m being silly, but this sense is ridiculously strong.

I hear my name called out again, floating on the breeze. “Whisper.”

My natural instinct is to turn around. I can’t ignore it, and that’s when I hear the muted sound in the air that spears my left shoulder sharply backwards, while the rest of me goes with it, falling hard onto the dirt. Pain burns my shoulder in a blistering heat while I’m left staring up at the stars flooding the night sky.

Please, God. Not again.

 

One bullet to maim and cause pa—

“Ooph!” is all I can grunt out as I’m slammed sideways into the ground from the place I had been stalking my prey.

One second, I was aiming at the old whore so I could give her a taste of pain before we got down to business, and the next, I’m bulldozed sideways as I pull the trigger, my head bouncing off the ground like a crash dummy.

What the fuck?!

A heavy body lands on me, and then a jaw-crunching blow hits my face, which feels like a sledge hammer has tried to take my head off. I’m left dazed and disorientated in the dirt.

I was pissed before, but now I’m fucking furious. Rage has me twisting about on the ground, trying to see what the fuck just happened.

From the flat-on-my-back position I’m in, I’m trying to focus on the female I shot and the other threat that blindsided me. I can just make out she’s struggling with a big guy. I slowly get to my feet, swaying all over the place like a goddamn drunk fool, when I’m hit hard from the back, my skull taking the full brunt.

For fuck’s sake, you gotta be kidding me.

I go down like a sack of potatoes and the lights turn out.

 

There are two or three of them.

My mind’s playing tricks on me; it has to be. I thought I heard Edge’s voice, and now I’m fighting with somebody.

Boxer’s training slams back into me. I connect my palm with my attacker’s nose, shoving it up as hard as I can. I hear a satisfactory crack and grunt come from my assailant, but before I can do another thing to save myself, a hard blow lands to my stomach, winding me, and another lands on my cheekbone in a classic one-two punch, and everything goes into slow motion. My head whips to the left and I go down hard on my side as the air is seriously knocked out of me. I’m gasping for oxygen like a fish out of water.

I lie wriggling about on the ground, trying to breathe, trying to calm the panic within me that wants to surface, but I know I need to get back up on my feet.

I command my body to listen and do as I tell it to. My inner tiger has emerged, and I won’t be going down without giving it my best shot. Even with the agonizing pain in my left shoulder, my determination to survive outweighs everything else. I got attacked and I need to escape.

I push to my feet, not really in my right mind, because my body is on fire. My inner tiger is trying not to give up, but I’m feeling a little wonky and a lot woozy.

“Fuck’s sake, lady, just stay down.” The powerful entity has a voice. Boohoo to him. It sounds like I’m annoying this guy. I swing my fist in a ridiculous attempt at hurting him. He sidesteps my fist, grabs me around the neck, and strongholds me until I’m left gasping for the small amount of air I’d been allowing my body.

If I could have cried out, I would have, but nothing left my lips. I simply go limp from lack of oxygen until I feel myself passing out.

So much for my inner tiger.

 

I come to on the ground, slowly opening my eyes and trying to get the stars to stop swirling about like I’m looking through a kaleidoscope. Once I can see clearly, I assess my current situation and what has happened since I blacked out.

I never black out.

What. The. Fuck?!

A car has been reversed up, approximately ten yards from where I lie, and there’s one guy carrying my revenge kill, dropping her into the trunk of his car.

I don’t think so. That’s my body he thinks he’s walking away with. Why is he so interested in my slut?

I quietly get to my feet while he’s busy with the body, and I get ready for another fistfight, because the cocksucker has stripped me of my weapons. Then I see the second guy standing by a tree, puffing on a cigar, dressed up like a 1950’s gangster, full pinstriped suit and fedora with a hankie, who’s holding a flashlight.

What a fucking clown.

I’m not quite with it because of that blow to my head, but it now makes sense why I was taken unaware the second time. Why has my old whore garnered this much attention? What’s the busy bitch been up to? Ripping somebody else off, no doubt. Call me curious, because I know these fools could have killed me. I would have killed me, but they left me alive for a reason.

I should just walk away.

But fuck, now I want to lay my eyes on her and see what all the body snatching is about.

I come up behind the guy who’s about to pull the trunk down. He’s more a run of the mill thug. Jeans, boots, jacket, nothing that stands out in a crowd…not like Bugsy. Naturally, he hears my approach, because I’m not doing a great job of being quiet, probably something to do with nearly having my brains smashed out of my head.

I’m a little off kilter. It happens.

Bugsy Malone isn’t at all perturbed by my advancing on them, so he just keeps right on smoking his cigar.

Trunk guy turns around cool as a cucumber, a handgun with a silencer attached pointed at my head. “Ah-ah-aahhh. Whatever you were thinking, buddy, I wouldn’t.” It comes out all nasally, because he’s copped a broken nose from the whore. He’s even uglier now. Looks like the only job he could sign up for was thug, because he ain’t got anything else going for him. You would have to be blind to want to fuck him. “We know you are a Soulless Bastard. We aren’t going to mess with one of theirs, so make our life easy and play nice.”

What the fuck? They’ve been following me?

“We’ve been following her. Not you.” Then he shrugs at me. “Well, we’ve been tracking you. We knew where you were going when you left Albuquerque; we just used one as a precaution in case we lost you. We slapped one on your bike before you left. We had to make sure you got the letter and then headed on out. We don’t want any trouble, so we’ll take it from here. Think yourself fortunate; she’s now out of your hands.”

Who is this dickhead, and what the fuck is he yabbering on about?

I rub the back of my head, which is hurting like a family of flash grenades have gone off in it, and my fingers come away a sticky, dirt-clogged mess, and that just makes my patience non-existent. “What the fucking hell are you talking about?” I growl out to these motherfuckers, who are trying to walk off with my kill.

He just keeps on talking. “You were the one who was aiming to snuff the chick out.” He shrugs casually again. “My boss wants her alive. William Dupré owes him…big. You would do well to keep your nose out of this and just walk away, my friend. We got no beef with you. We’re just the delivery boys, and we want no trouble. We’ve got a job to do, same as you do.”

I move slowly to the trunk, holding up my palms to show I’m not going to try anything. I want to know who he’s fucking talking about, because my brain is off on its own merry-go-round at the moment and nothing’s making any goddamn sense. “I just want to see why my father decided she was worth his time.”

The gun’s still pointed at my head, but I know he won’t shoot me. His orders aren’t to kill me.

“You fucked her, so you should know why. Did you just say father?” Then he starts laughing. “Hey, Benny boy, this is William’s son. This keeps getting better and better. We got ourselves some father and son action.” Bugsy Malone decides to come around and join our little shindig.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” How did they not know I’m the son of William Dupré, if they made sure the letter was in my possession? They are just the delivery boys, as they stated, so their boss must not deem them high enough to know all the details. That means there may be another party involved issuing orders.

I tamp down my rage. I have to stay calm. If this guy sees me as too dangerous, then he won’t hesitate to kill me if he knows it’s either him or me—fuck his orders.

Bugsy’s pretty confident his accomplice can handle me. He’s standing watching us with his arms crossed, smiling at me with a very confident grin. He’s dark-skinned, and he has extremely white teeth that are going all neon in the moonlight.

“Relax, delivery boys. I just want to see what she looks like.”

Ivory’s looking at me like I got hit way too hard, and that’s gonna have to work for me. “You were the one fucking her in the parking lot earlier, which, by the way, I have told Boss Man she’s everything he could ask for.”

I’m not hearing him correctly.

“What are you talking about?”

“The beauty you were fucking on your bike. William Dupré owes my boss, and he’s now collectin’. You’ve already damaged the package, and he’ll be none too pleased, but if you walk away, there will be no hard feelings.”

I pretend to sway a little.

Bugsy pipes up. “Deano, I think you hit him too hard. He’s lost some of his memory. I sure wouldn’t forget sticking my dick inside this little bitch. That was quite some show you both put on. I could have done with some popcorn.” He actually grabs his crotch and starts gyrating his hips. “I nearly came in my pants watching her performance. Boss Man is sure gonna be pleased with the merchandise.” Then he gives a low dirty laugh as he grabs hold of his dick again.

Yeah, Bugsy, you’ve got balls…for the meantime anyway. I hope he isn’t too attached to them.

Now I’m getting beyond pissed off with all this blathering.

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Ebony and Ivory underestimate my attitude towards them. The upper hand, remember? I play a role to get what I need.

I have to see for my own eyes. “Let me just have one last look.” I give Ivory a little sneer. “She was a great fuck.” This couldn’t be Sara. “Don’t do anything stupid because the Soulless Bastards don’t forgive. My president knows where I am, and he won’t give a shit who your fucking boss is.” I give him a warning so I don’t wind up in the trunk when I bend over to take a closer look.

“Keep your panties on. Just take it nice and slow, and we’ll all leave here tonight in one piece,” Ivory says, watching me carefully. He’s the smarter one out of the two, because Benny Boy is really misjudging me. I think that gangster outfit makes him believe he’s bulletproof, but last I knew, Superman was no gangster.

My odds aren’t too good at the moment of taking this guy and Bugsy out. I have no bones with these guys, or with my father’s dealings. I came to exact retribution, and now everything has gone to shit.

Nothing is black and white anymore, except for these two morons.

Ivory shines a flashlight on her face. I rest my left hand on the trunk while the other pulls the hoodie back off her head, revealing her pale face to me.

Motherfucker.

It’s Sara. She’s got a bruise forming on her face and her eye is starting to swell shut. Her shirt has lifted up and there’s a nasty bruise appearing on her right side. She’s out cold. Her chest is moving, so she’s still alive. Her hands are zip-tied together, and there’s fresh blood staining her chest, which means she hasn’t stopped bleeding from my gunshot, and they’ve obviously fucked her up more.

This really gets under my skin, and I don’t know why I’m feeling this strong emotion. If I had a gun, I wouldn’t hesitate to use it on either of them.

Shit, I knew she was lying about her name, but it never crossed my mind my father would hook up with a girl so young.

What the hell is going on here? I need time to process, and my head’s pounding like a bitch in heat. I just want to have a good look at her and see if there’s anymore damage, but I won’t get that time. I’m lucky he’s even letting me do this.

My father was an evil bastard, but something isn’t right here with Sara being Whisper. She’s too young for my father, and she has an innocence about her that was hard to deny. Not unless she’s a fucking award winning actress? You couldn’t fake her sexual purity on my bike. She’s no whore; I would bet my money on that.

So who the ever loving fuck is she, and what did she truly mean to him?

I slowly turn my head and look over my shoulder, putting on my hunter’s face, the deadly one. “Why didn’t you let me kill her? Why does your boss want her alive? To me, she’s worth more dead.” He’s no longer shining the light in the trunk. I hope my questions will distract him while I casually pull my cell phone out from the left front pocket of my riding leathers. I pretend to lean heavily on the car, the movement allowing me the freedom I need to get the phone hidden inside the trunk.

I just hope like fuck she finds it and I can get to my Prez to let him know that nobody is to call that number. I need it to track this car with the GPS in it, not taken off her because it’s ringing away in their trunk. They would have already searched her prior to dumping her in the back. That’s just Kidnapping 101. I should be able to find where she’s being taken.

“Consider her erased from your life. Whatever your beef with her, you got your cock wet, you got to mouth fuck her, and now she’s got a one-way ticket. Boss Man will take it from here.”

This cocksucker is so sure of himself and that I’m just gonna walk away, which puts me in another realm of pissed-me-the-fuck-offs.

Soulless Bastards have a reputation far and wide, but I still can’t wrap my mind around Sara being Whisper and meaning something to my father. She’s living at the bar. She told me that much when we were talking. She hesitated just a split second outside a room, which at a quick glance was feminine, but then she changed her mind before I finger-fucked her in the back room.

Previously, the name Whisper meant a money grubbing old whore, but now...I got no fucking clue what it means.

What am I condemning her to?

Earlier, this was my show, but now I’ve been bought out by another station. Something is seriously fucked up here, my gut is screaming at me. I need to be done with it all, just walk away, and burn the place down, but...something isn’t ringing true.

Why is one of the best fucks I’ve ever had, lying unconscious in the trunk of their getaway car, bleeding from a gunshot wound I’d inflicted? This woman my father had shacked up with should not be a young female, and her real name shouldn’t be Whisper, and she shouldn’t have her name embedded on my father’s last will and testament. She’s supposed to be some old whore, not Sara from the bar, but repeating these facts to myself doesn’t change anything.

I need more answers and information. For now, she’s safe until she reaches their destination while my phone takes a road trip with her. They want her alive, and they are travelling by car, so they won’t be going that far, and they need to keep her alive. My bullet would have gone straight through her shoulder. I was aiming to kill her with my second bullet once I’d talked to her. I’m not sure why I feel relief that I didn’t get that far. If she’s my father’s whore, then she deserves what she gets from me.

But is she?

Jesus Christ, what have I stepped into? Even in death, he’s causing trouble.

My phone is the only lead to finding out who is behind all this and why Whisper is involved.

“Move away and mind your own fuckin’ business.” Ivory’s losing his patience with me. He’s on a schedule, and I’m fucking that up. I can’t win against a gun at close range pointed at my head. I move away and he slams the trunk down. “Don’t even try to follow us.” Then he shoots me in the foot. “Sorry about that. No hard feelings, just doing my job.”

“Mo...ther... fuuuck...iiiing... ass...hole,” I let out a deep groan as I go down on one knee. I had been toeing the line, playing the part, because it was as easy as him pulling the trigger to blow my brains out, and that silencer on the end of his gun would ensure nobody heard my death, but the fucker still shot me.

I know the cocksucker isn’t going to let me watch them drive off. Just to add insult to injury, I have to let him knock me out. Such a predictable son of a bitch as he pistol-whips me across the head.

Just as I’m blacking out, I remind myself to find these two guys. They have just been added to my retribution list.

Yeah, no hard feelings, Ebony and Ivory.

***

When I come to, lying flat on my back, my foot’s throbbing and my head’s pounding, and I find I’m having an inner battle with myself, knowing I should just walk away.

None of this shit is anything I need to include myself in. So she was a good fuck? I can still burn the house down now and be done with it all. So what if my phone is in the trunk with her? I can buy another one.

No, conscience isn’t part of the Soulless Bastards fucking code. Whisper won’t last long under the guy who wants her. She will pay whatever debt my father owed him, and then she will be done for. My world will continue the way it was revolving.

I roll to my side and pound my fist into the dirt.

Fuck!

There’s too much blamelessness surrounding this woman that I can’t ignore. I don’t hurt innocent people.

My foot hurts like a thousand razor blades have been embedded in it as I stand up and hobble over to the house, when I’m distracted by a phone going off. I head towards the sound and find her phone lit up, lying a few yards into the trees. I scoop it up and check the caller ID. ‘Miss Catherine’ is showing up on the screen. I ignore it and let it ring out. I use the phone to first text my president with a code word to let him know I’m going to be calling on an unknown number, and then I call him and organize for nothing to be sent through to my phone. Hazard wants to know how it’s all going because he knows if I don’t have my own phone, something has gone down. I tell him everything just turned complicated, but it will get sorted. He wants to send a brother to help me out, but I decline.