“Wow! What did she do today?” Jared says as he approaches us.

I glare at Jared, and he steps back. Fuck, even Jared belittles her. I think of how Arnold talked about her. How he told her how worthless she was. Has any man ever cared for her, encouraged her? Or anyone for that matter?

“Don’t speak about my wife,” I growl.

Never the one to get pushed around or back down, Jared’s face goes dark.

Derick steps in between us. “Okay, lets step back for a minute. Landon, why don’t you tell us what is going on.”

I turn away from them, removing my gloves. “I came here to punch some shit.”

There a silent pause before Derick nods and repositions the bag.

It feels like hours pass before I have exhausted myself. My muscles burn from overuse, and I have sweated through my shirt. The guys are just as exhausted. Derick tosses me a towel, and I wiped my face.

“You ready to tell us what the hell is going on?” he demands.

I just spent the last two hours releasing my anger, and it just returns in full force just thinking about it.

“What do we know about Arnold Mackintosh?” I glance at Jared, directing the question toward him.

“Robinson’s nephew?”

I nod and he shrugs. “What do you want to know about him?”

It is a weighted question. Jared is the head of security for our company. If there is something he wants to know, he knows how to find it. He has a way of bringing your deepest darkest secrets out of the closet.

“Everything. I want to know all his business dealings. How close to Robinson’s Tech Company he works. Who does he socialize with? Who does he owe money? Strengths, weaknesses.”

I would ask for Conner Robinson’s information, too, but Jared did that before I even asked at the beginning of my marriage.

Jared raises quirks an eyebrow. “May I ask why?”

I look down at my left hand. I remove the tape that is supposed to protect my hands, but one of my knuckles is split open.

“He’s responsible for a lot of suffering my wife endured, and he’s going to pay for it!”

CHAPTER 15

Raspberries

Brooke

I stare longingly at the last pastry on my plate. Sonia and I are having tea on the back patio—something that has become somewhat of a tradition every Tuesday and Thursday morning these last two months. I have eaten probably five of the raspberry-filled Danishes that have suddenly appeared at every meal.

I have not laughed and smiled so much in I do not even know how long. I love having a friend. It is an experience I have never had before not even as a child.

“Oh, I have something for you,” Sonia says excitedly. I must admit that excitement swirls through me, too, wondering what it could be.

She pulls out a small gift bag from what seems to be thin air. Its blue with green polka dots. Smiling, I gently open the bag. Inside is a cute little grey-and-green onesie with little fish on it. It’s adorable, and I’ve no doubt Sonia made it herself. She is an amazing designer. I have done four photoshoots with her for her fashion line she is trying to start up. I brush my hand across the soft fabric and sadness seems to consume me.