Thorns Grow After Betrayal (Celeste and Chester) novel Chapter 223

“Mr. Blake, you’ve really gone out of your way to lecture me like this,” Celestine said, pausing as she studied his inscrutable expression. “Are you trying to tell me Zeke’s a brainless idiot, or are you just here to beg for Miss Sinclair’s sake?”

Lance shot her a look—something tangled and unreadable—then simply left her with, “Suit yourself,” before walking away from the booth.

Celestine pressed stop on the voice recorder app on her phone.

Boring. Absolutely pointless.

If she’d pushed him a little further, she would’ve had a flawless chain of evidence.

If Zeke had actually thrown that punch at her earlier, she would’ve had no problem using her taser and leaving him half-paralyzed. Would’ve served him right.

In a way, that would’ve been a win.

If Mirabelle ever made the kind of mistake every woman makes at least once, well, Celestine figured it’d be understandable.

She set down her glass of water, glancing around. Crystal Lennox and Mirabelle hadn’t come back yet. She waved to a server, asked him to hold their booth, and headed toward the restroom.

She’d barely turned the corner when voices—loud, tense—cut through the din.

“What do you think you’re doing? I swear, touch me again and I’m calling the cops!”

“Oh, come on, sweetheart, don’t try to scare us with that. We’re not afraid of a little police action.”

“Stop pretending you’re some pure, untouchable saint. Relax, let us show you a good time. We’ll take real good care of you.”

The confrontation made Celestine’s stomach twist. She quickened her pace.

There, outside the restroom, Crystal Lennox and Mirabelle were cornered by five sleazy-looking men, every bit the scum of the earth.

“Get lost, you Neanderthals!” Mirabelle spat, yanking her hand back as one of them snatched off her sunglasses.

“Whoa, you really do look like that movie star. Gorgeous. We should definitely get a souvenir video when we take you to bed,” one of the men sneered, his grin disgusting.

Celestine counted the seconds—long enough for the cops to get here, if the earlier call went through.

She couldn’t stand another word. Grabbing hold of a nearby fire extinguisher, she hurled it at the nearest man.

“Back off!” she shouted.

The man yelped in pain and stumbled to his knees. The others, surprised, dropped their leering smirks.

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