He was flustered. “Look. She was a boss, too. Her husband had cheated on her first. I already told you she did this to get back at him, but I know she was catching feelings for me.”

“What about the allegations of rape?”

“Rape? Hell no! That wasn’t rape. That shit was always consensual. She threw it back at me. So, how could that be rape? She was enjoying that shit as much as I was.”

“What about the drugging? That’s what the police report says. You’re lucky that you didn’t violate your parole. Someone somewhere is looking out for you. Because technically, you should be back in custody.”

Kyron knew that Mari’s influence with the psychologist and her clout and position was the reason he wasn’t back in lock up.

“Sheeeeeit, a lil’ ‘E’ mixed with Viagra; that’s recreational. Since when did that become drugging?”

“The report says there was another substance. But wasn’t your fiancée with you in Vegas when this happened?”

“I don’t know, was she?”

“Let’s stay on track, Mr. Santos. Did you think about your fiancée’s feelings?”

He chuckled. “I don’t know what the fuck you heard, but I don’t have a fiancée. Where the fuck is you getting all this info from? Can we put that on the record? Because I feel that some of this shit ain’t none of your business.”

“Fiancée. Girlfriend. Wifey. Whatever you call her. Are you two in a good place now that Tasha is back with her husband? Can you mend your relationship with your fiancée?”

“Mend? Who said it was broken?” Kyron chuckled again.

“Do you love her?”

“She’s been good to me. But what’s love got to do with this? She held me down when I was locked up.

But—”

“But, what? Do you love her or what? You either love her, or you don’t.”

“Let me say something.”

“What is it?”

“It’s something an old man told me.”

“What did he tell you?”

“When you don’t love someone, you just don’t love them. That someone can’t force you to. It’s just not happening.”

“Is that what you’re saying about your fiancée?”

Kyron hesitated. “No. I’m talking about Tasha. I’m simply saying that I was good to her. I gave her me. I gave her a car. I gave her a ring. And she still went back to her husband. But I hope when I came in her that last time, I planted another seed. My seed. Now that shit right there . . . That would be street justice.” He started laughing.

“But, what about your fiancée?”

“She can’t have kids. Anyway, doc, I feel like you rode my nuts enough for today. May we finish this next time?”

* * *