Betrayal - Fern Michaels [88]
Tempted to stop and say hello, Kate floored the accelerator. She couldn’t see Coleman. He would want to know what she was doing in Naples. And there was no way on earth she was going to tell an attorney her plans.
Unless she wanted to go to jail. And she didn’t. At least not yet.
Chapter 25
Sunlight streamed between the wooden slats on the plantation shutters. Don moaned and rolled over. He’d closed them last night. The bitch must’ve opened them that morning before leaving for the office. He didn’t remember how much he’d drunk the previous night at the club. One of the waiters brought him home. He didn’t know which one, hell, he didn’t care. He’d lost his license three years ago. It’d be another two before he could have it reissued. Four DUIs. Driving under the influence.
He forced himself into an upright position, dragging the bedsheets with him. He had on the same clothes he’d worn yesterday. He smelled like alcohol and sweat.
He needed a shower, but wasn’t sure if he could make it. His head thrummed with pain; his throat was dry and soured. He managed to stand up. One foot in front of the other. Left. Right. Left. Right. Ten more. One. Two. Three. Four. He knew exactly how many steps to the shower. He’d counted them once. At least he could still count, he thought. He turned the shower on. Ten showerheads. He stepped inside, letting the hot water pummel against him. He leaned against the cool marble for ten minutes before he felt stable enough to grab the bar of soap. He lathered up and shampooed what was left of his hair. He found a razor and a can of shaving cream placed on one of the built-in shelves in the shower. Nothing too good for the Winter family, was there? He made a half-ass attempt to shave without slitting his throat. That was something because the way his hands shook, he was surprised he hadn’t sliced his jugular years ago.
He’d taken a dump on life six years ago. First, he’d lost his job at the engineering firm after they filed bankruptcy. He tried to start a firm of his own. With his ass mortgaged from here to hell and back, he hadn’t been able to get the business loans he’d needed. He’d gone to every bank in town. Then to Miami. Fort Lauderdale. No one wanted to lend him a nickel, much less the two million he was asking for. He’d hoped for something from the civil suit they’d filed against the Rockets. That had remained tied up in the court for four years before he’d finally accepted the fact that even in death Alex had bested him. The son of a bitch. Before he was even arrested, he’d made sure his fortune was untouchable. Don had hired numerous attorneys in hope of finding something that would allow Alex’s fortune to spill into his open hands. There was no way. He’d finally given up. Debbie had even hired and paid for a few attorneys herself. Even she, the invincible Mrs. Winter, hadn’t been able to break through the chains Alex had placed on his fortune.
He stepped out of the shower, pulled a thick white bath sheet from a white wicker basket, and wrapped it around his middle. He’d gone to pot, he thought as he viewed himself in the mirror. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the inside of a gym. His skin looked flabby, like the old men at the club.
Too much sun, too much drink. Screw it, he thought as he turned away from his reflection.
In the kitchen, Don poured the leftover coffee into a mug and drank it even though it was only at room temperature.
Now, what should he do today? Like he had a choice. He’d call a taxi to drive him to the club. He’d hang out at the bar for most of the afternoon. From there he’d make an attempt to act like he had something to come home to, then he’d drink until he passed out. Sometimes he didn’t even bother coming home. They knew he was a drunk at the club. If he got rowdy, they’d have one of the waiters drive him home. He rarely got rowdy anymore. It wasn’t worth the effort.
He remembered