A Vengeful Heiress

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

If you cheat on someone that is willing to do anything for you, you actually cheated yourself out of true Loyalty.
-EnglishLoveQuotes

THE RHYTHMIC THUNK of glove connecting with the body bag soothed Alex. He punched the bag, ratling the chain that secured it to the beam in the garage.

Sweat rolled down in his back, coated his arms. He blinked the saltiness away, doubling his efforts as if the leather bag were the bundle of trouble that had fallen his lap.

It was the worst sort of trouble--one that had bestung his heart, and an inclination for his stupidity.

He hurt Claire Jade again.

"Shit!" he said to the empty garage, dropping his arms to his sides. He tilted his head back and panted, taking shallow breaths that smelled like hot asphalt and burnt oil. "I mean shoot"

This morning he had recieved a text messages from Claire. She was really pissed off with this new hot rumor about him and Marla Higgins, that he was just meet last night. Marla introduced herself as a designer.

He got interested with her when she mentioned that she were a brilliant maker of the wedding gown. He told her about his plan to get her design for Claire's wedding gown. He never thought that it would brought a rumor that made a hot issues again this morning. And the worst part, Claire left New York, thinking that he were screwed another woman again.

He tossed the gloves on the work bench welded to the garage wall and opened the fridge he kept stocked with water and beer. He grabbed a Heineken, wrenched the top off and took three long swallows of the icy beer. His body needed water. His mind demanded the beer.

"No way that you could pushed me away." he whispered and breathed deeply.

No way she could pushed him away from her. She texted him to stay away from her and to leave her alone but that were so impossible to happened. Her secretary kept her whereabout, he knew it. He will find Claire, no matter what.

He wiped away the sweat dripping in his eyes and stared at the open overhead door at the darkening New York sky. Brilliant pink trimmed the rich blue that pressed upon the earth. It was a nice sky as far as skies go. And the sun was a flaming orb sitting on the horizon.

"Got one of those for me?" his friend Mark Rodriguez--a private investigator, strolling into the garage.

"You don't drink beer."

Mark shrugged. "I'll settle for water."

Alex opened the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water and tossed it Mark's way.

Mark caught the beverage with one hand. "Montana."

"You sure? Montana? Why Montana of all the places?" he interestedly looked at Mark.

His friend propped himself against the metal slide of a roll-up door and smirked. "She've got a hot cowboy friend in there."

Alex froze. He sternly looked at his friend. Mark was dangerous-looking guy, with gang ink spiraling onto his neck and an almost permanent scowl etched on his broad face.

"A guy friend." he repeated, and took the last two swallows of the beer and tossed the empty bottle toward the recycling bin.

"Jacob Logan Finn, 29 years old. Single. He owned and run the Circle F, a rich handsome cowboy." he said. Mark crossed his arm to his chest, waiting for his reaction.

"I know what you're going to imply, that's not going to be happen. Claire is mine." he said. He silently gritted his teeth. Jealousy eating him right now.