After Midnight

chapter thirty.

30 - ZAYN

I have never been so fucking pissed in my entire life.

Actually, that's a lie. I have. Why? Because of my sick fuck of a father. No shocker that he's causing this undying rage all over again.

Except for this time, he's threatening my girlfriend. How the fuck did he even find out about her?

Not to mention the cops are no fucking help. They babbled some bullshit about how many people have the initials C.M.

Oh, really? Well, are all of them psychotic criminals with an agenda to ruin my fucking life? Yeah, didn't think so.

It's clear to me that my father is looking for revenge. I didn't help him in court, and that pissed him off, so here we are. At least, that's Rocky and Adelaide's theory.

The only positive to this situation is the fact that Scarlett is staying at my place for now.

Waking up to her naked body pressed against mine is definitely something I could get used to. Plus the fucking amazing breakfast she made us this morning.

After a lot of begging and desperate pleas, I finally got the name and number of my father's assigned parole officer.

I called him last night but got no answer, so I'm headed to his office now. Hey, at least I left a message informing him of my arrival. If he doesn't check his voicemails, that's on him.

Once I park, I quickly hop out of my car and into the old-looking building. I walk down the hall and see Leigh Gates printed above one of the doors.

Bingo.

I knock on the door loudly. He better be here because I'm not fucking around. If my father so much as looks at Scarlett again, I'm going to lose my shit. I don't care what I have to do. I will protect the woman I love.

The door swings open, a tired-looking man holding it with confused eyes. "Hello?"

He's short, maybe 5'7, and his hair is a shaggy blond that falls messily all over his head. He's clad in dark jeans and a knit sweater. He's probably a little older than me. Late thirties, probably. Looks nice enough. Hopefully, he'll take this seriously.

"Hi. I'm Zayn Miller. I left you a message."

"Ah," he says, opening the door further so I can walk in. "I never check those damn things. I figured I'd meet you at some point, though."

"So you know who I am?" I ask. The man just nods, gesturing with his hand for me to take a seat as he sits behind his desk.

"You're Miller's youngest, yeah?"

I nod shortly, clenching my jaw in anger. I wish I fucking wasn't. "Your client is harassing my girlfriend, and I need you to take care of it before I put matters into my own hands."

Leigh's brows raise in shock. "Carlos is harassing your girl? Since when?" He doesn't seem convinced.

I huff, rolling my eyes. "He's fucking stalking her and sending her damn greeting cards as if it's his daily jog." I snap bitterly.

"Relax, Mr. Miller. I can't help you if I don't know the specifics. Carlos has been working at a restaurant as a dishwasher every day for a month now. He's followed his parole guides to a T so far, so if there's something I'm unaware of, I need all the details."

I toss the card on the table and explain all the encounters Scarlett can remember. Scarlett even worried that he was the man that ran into her at therapy and made her drop her phone last month.