Read Online Burn (L.A. Untamed #2) by Ruth Clampett - Free Book Online Page A

ramifications before he dropped his drawers and bent over the flower shop worktable.
    I pick up my phone to call Jeanine and remember that she’s heading to Boston today. Why not go straight to the source? I find a letter that I’d gotten from Mike’s law firm and dial the number printed on the bottom of the page.
    I have to go through a few people to get the guy, but when I do it becomes clear that this ass is a great example of why people hate lawyers.
    I clear my throat. “Hi Steve, I’m Mike Castallani’s ex, Trisha and I need to check on something.”
    “You do realize, Ms. McNeill, that your lawyer should be the one contacting me, correct?”
    “Well, she’s traveling today and I can’t wait for an answer. I’m paying bills right now and I need Mike to pay his half of the mortgage. The bills already late so he needs to get right on it.”
    “Is that so?”
    “Yup.”
    “Well Mike isn’t paying half of the mortgage unless he’s living there, and my understanding is that you threw him out on the street and threatened to give away his collection of regency furniture.”
    “Oh he’s such a drama queen. I didn’t throw him into the street even though I probably could, and I said I was selling his furniture, not giving it away.”
    “You acted with hostile intent, and we are considering approaching the judge assigned to our case to allow Mike his rights to live there with you until you decide to sell it and split the equity.”
    “Over my dead body,” I growl.
    “I’ll make note that you said that,” he replies in a creepy calm voice. “You need to understand that it’s his right.”
    I slap my hand down on the table and the bills go flying. “What about my rights? Huh? We made a promise to each other when we got married, and I kept my promise and your client didn’t. Shouldn’t he have to pay for that?”
    “It doesn’t work that way, Ms. McNeill.”
    “Well it should! That asshole should pay me for every time he bent over and took it up the ass while I was at home doing his laundry. And you know what else? I should get extra for the time I walked into his place of business while he was going at it! Do you know what kind of noises he was making? I can’t unhear that, and I sure as hell can’t unsee it either—”
    “Ms. McNeill,” he says loudly, interrupting me. “You really need to talk to your lawyer about this. I have a meeting and this conversation can’t continue.”
    I’m working up for my next rant when I realize he’s not there. I look down and my phone screen is blank.
    “I’m not done!” I yell at the blank phone. My hands curl into fists. “I’m not done,” I repeat as tears start streaking down my face.
    Sweeping my arm across the table’s surface, I send the scattered pile of bills soaring off the table. I get up and stomp all over the mess and then take my checkbook, wind up my pitching arm and then send it flying down the hall toward the living room.
    Fucking mother fucker!
    I press my hands over my face and realize that despite my streaks of tears, my skin is so flushed with heat it feels like it’s burning. Stepping up to the kitchen sink, I turn on the faucet and douse my face over and over with cold water. After about a minute I’m starting to feel human again, and I shut off the water, lift my wet face up and look out the window.
    Through my blurry view I’m fairly certain that Joe is watching me from his kitchen window.
    Yikes! I wonder how much he saw of my storming around my kitchen. I reach out for a dishtowel and blot my skin. When I look back up my vision is clear and Joe is smiling and waving at me. Just seeing him makes me feel better.
    I squeak out a tiny smile as I wave back.
    This time he motions for me to come over, so I set down the dishtowel and step out my back door. He’s on his tiny landing as I approach.
    “What’s up?” I ask.
    “You wanted to see the inside of my place. Do you still want to?”
    I figure he either didn’t see me