Just A Woman (The Porter Trilogy Book 2) Read Free Page A

then letting all of his buddies take turns with her. He said she begged for it and loved it. I remember my vision turning red at what he had done and asking where she was. When he nonchalantly waved at the window and said he didn’t care, I had gotten up to investigate.
    I looked out the window to see a hooded guy pulling her body out of the pool. It looked like her arms and legs had been tied to the pool chair she was in. I watched as the guy pressed his fingers to her neck to check for a pulse. He must have been satisfied, because he untied her and carted her off to the front of the house out of my vision.
    I had almost gone down to investigate, but at the time I was selfish and knew I needed to continue studying. Owning my own business was my fucking dream and nothing was going to spoil that, so I flopped on the bed and forgot about the girl, until she retold her version right in front of my eyes.
    When she sat on the couch and told me exactly what happened that night, my first thought was to find Robert and rip him limb from limb. I threw my brandy glass and stormed out. She had thought I was repulsed by her, when really I was repulsed with my former self from eight years ago for not checking on her, and not turning Robert and his buddies in. I had never really known rage as I had in that moment, and hurting Charlotte because of my anger wasn’t an option. I wanted to hurt Robert, and myself.
    Shaking my head, I dispersed the fucked up thoughts and self-loathing as much as I could. Brigitte was still staring at me. I didn’t know if I had been down memory lane for two seconds or two minutes. Not that I frankly gave a shit what she thought. She was my employee and, if I asked her to stand there in front of me for two hours, she could either do it or quit, but I had made a promise to Charlotte. She wasn’t getting nice Alex, but courtesy went a long way.
    “Thank you, Brigitte, for the coffee,” I said to her.
    “Y-You’re welcome, Mr. Porter,” she said, backing away and exiting my office in a rush. I thought I saw a glimmer of hope in her eyes, but chose to ignore it. 
    Only a fraction of a second later the door slammed open again. I looked up, expecting to see Brigitte and take back my thanks, but instead Bracks scrambled in holding a few pieces of paper. I stood up in a flash, knocking my chair backwards.
    “What? What did you find, Bracks?” I shoved my hands out, demanding the paper.
    “She started a blog, Alex. She started a fucking blog. Here’s the first entry, don’t worry, I didn’t read it,” he assured me, thrusting the papers into my eager claws. This was what I was waiting for. Something. Anything to quench my thirst. I couldn’t have asked for anything better. I would have been content with a less than 140 character tweet, but a blog? I had hit the jackpot.
    Taking the papers and shoving my hands in my hair, I sat back down in my chair and started reading.

Chapter 3
    Daydreamer Musings
July 6, 2015
Followers- 2
    This is stupid! I’m writing an online blog to “write down my feelings and let it all out.” At least that’s what my shrink said. Yes, the girl whose words you’re reading is certifiably crazy. No, I’m not. Not really, although, sometimes I feel like I am. Crazy, that is. 
    As prescribed by my Doc, I should write out everything I am feeling and act as if the people reading this have no clue what’s going on. Well, since I only have two followers, it seems that you’re the only person that doesn’t know what’s happening, Doctor. Hi, Danny!
    I don’t know what’s wrong with writing in an actual book with pen and paper, but the good Doc told me that when your feelings and thoughts come out, typing is faster than writing and your fingers can keep up with your brain better than trying to write it down. I guess he’s right. I can type over 60 words per minute. He also said I might be able to find some support from my peers. I don’t really have any peers except my best