Harnessed Passions Read Online Free Page A

expression for any
visible sign of regret, but there was none. The man had his mind
set on his task and would not be convinced to the contrary.
    “ Quite,” Victor said,
breathing heavily through weak, tired lungs that had been too long
neglected. "Just make certain, Daniel doesn't know anything about
this. This has to remain between the three of us, until the time
comes. Understand?"
    "Yes sir, you have my word on it. But I have
to tell you, Mr. Turner, I don't like any of it. Daniel is like a
brother to me and I don’t like what you’re planning to do to him.
I've known the man since we were children; I respect him more than
my own father and I've never kept any secrets from him. I don't
know how I can start now."
    "I understand Leonard, but you need to
remember how important this is, not just to me, but to both Daniel
and Julia. If there were any other way around this, I would have
taken it. I just don't have the time to set things right."
    "I'll do as you ask, Mr. Turner. As your
attorney, I have sworn complete confidentiality to you and your
case, but I still don't like it."
    "All that said, I think we should be going."
Louise Turner stood up and reached for the back of her husband's
wheelchair. She hated to see the man so weak and vulnerable. The
past few days had played havoc on him, robbing him of so much of
his precious strength.
    Harold escorted the couple out of his
office, opening the doors as he preceded them. He watched with a
frown while the black man stepped down from their Dearborn and
lifted the man to the back seat before helping Louise in and
stowing the wheelchair behind the wagon. The expensive vehicle
pulled away from the front of the building, leaving Harold with a
feeling of regret and guilt eating a hole in the pit of his pudgy
stomach.
    He hated giving that man his word; he felt
as though he were selling his best friend to the devil himself. If
only Daniel hadn't given the old man over to him as a client, he
could have easily rejected his obstinate orders; but he had given
his word to his friend to keep him on, and he couldn't back out of
it. The money was one thing; having Turner stables under exclusive
contract meant a great deal of money to the practice, but he also
had his personal morals to consider. Since Daniel had insisted,
Harold knew he had to ignore his standards and do as the old man
requested. Mourning what was done wouldn’t help matters anyway. He
knew what he had to do, and like it or not, the deed had been done
and there was no turning back.
    Running his hand through his thinning brown
hair, he went back inside the building. He gave his secretary,
Anna, orders not to disturb him then closed the door to his private
office again. He sat in his large leather chair and opened the
bottom drawer of the oak desk, glaring at the contents. Inside sat
a half empty bottle of whiskey and several small glasses. He pulled
out a single glass, along with the bottle and sat both on top of
the desk. Drinking didn't come as natural to him as it once had; a
habit his wife Margie had broken him of quite some time ago, but
there was little he could do at the moment. He needed something to
dull the gut wrenching guilt churning in his middle.
    Harold drank down the first glass with a
shiver and a growl that did little to ease the burning sensation in
his throat. God, this stuff tasted like shit, he thought and the
worst part was that it did nothing to ease his conscious. After
twenty minutes and two glasses later, he didn’t feel much beyond a
soft numb buzzing between his ears.
    He closed the bottle and put it back in its
hiding spot in the bottom drawer, then walked to the hook holding
his jacket and slipped it across his torso. Harold staggered out to
the street in front of the large, three story building, telling
Anna he would not be returning the rest of the day. He gazed up to
the clear blue sky, squinting at the light through blood shot eyes.
The sun was high and warm and its heat radiated