“Thanks for getting here so quickly. I didn’t know who else to call.” Who Rylee wouldn’t freak out over, I add silently, because she sure as fuck is going to go ballistic when she wakes up to find Haddie here.

“Anytime. Besides I should be thanking you,” she says, lacing kisses on Ace’s head. “Ry’s been so set on getting his routine down before having visitors that I thought I’d never get to see him.”

“About that . . .” I say, taking a deep breath, knowing I’m crossing some kind of marital boundary I shouldn’t be, but am past caring. “She’s struggling a bit. Baby blues.” I nod my head to reinforce my words, to try and relay the rest of what Rylee has forbid me to say. Haddie narrows her eyes at me.

“Oh, that’s normal. Everyone I know goes through it a bit. No worries, Donavan, I’ll cheer her up,” she says with a wink.

I know I need to move. Get to Kelly ASAP but fuck is it hard to leave Ry when she’s like this. This could go so wrong on so many fronts. Ry is going to kill me. She’s not going to be able to hide from Haddie what’s going on. And a tiny little piece of me feels relieved because I don’t know what to do anymore.

I’m lost. Like on-a-deserted-island lost and don’t have a clue how to help her.

This could push her over the edge or help reel her back. I hope to hell it’s the latter.

“Now go. Get. I know you’re in a rush. I’ve got it covered here,” Haddie says, interrupting my thoughts.

“She’s napping upstairs. I didn’t tell her I was going.”

“GO! I’ve got it under control. You’re starting to eat into my auntie and Ace time.” She starts to shut the front door, and I walk toward the car where Sammy is waiting in the passenger seat when she calls to me. “Hey, Colton?”

I turn, my hand resting with the car door handle, anticipation humming in my blood. “Yeah?”

“Kick Eddie extra hard in the nuts for me, will ya? He deserves it for fucking with my bestie.”

“Only if he’s still standing when I’m done with him.” I slide into the driver’s seat. Sammy’s chuckle fills the car, and my mind races.


“We’re good to go?” I ask, my eyes flickering back and forth from Kelly to Sammy to make sure we’re all on the same page.

“Yep. Dean’s got him inside. Everything else is in place.” Our eyes meet, his unspoken warning I don’t want to see is loud and fucking clear within them: cool my jets, my temper, and let the plan work.

And as much as I know he’s right, I turn my back to him and start up the walk without acknowledging I saw it.

No one’s going to tell me how to run my own show. I know the fallout for my actions. They’re clear as fucking day. But I also know Eddie’s fucked with my wife and my son, and if a man doesn’t stand up for his family, he shouldn’t be standing at all.

Going to jail isn’t an option. And not because I care about having a record or the media frenzy it would cause. I just can’t do that to Ry with how she is or to Ace with how little and helpless he is. But it sure as fuck doesn’t mean I’ll toe the line.

Bring it, fucker. I’m ready for you. Pumped and primed. Push my buttons. Pretty please.

Without knocking, I open the door to the rundown apartment. Kelly’s cohort, Dean, is standing just inside. Our eyes meet. A mutual understanding is passed between us—my thanks, his take your time—before he steps out without another sound.

I take three steps in. I don’t hear the door shut. I don’t notice that Sammy’s back is pressed against it, because my eyes are focused on the man sitting on the ripped couch in front of me: elbows on knees, head hanging down, leg anxiously jogging up and down.

Rage like I’ve felt very few times in my life roars through me. A fucking freight train of fury I need to keep on track before I let it derail.

I clear my throat. When Eddie realizes someone else is in the apartment, he whips his head up with eyes wide as saucers and mouth open. He looks like shit. Good.

“What the . . .?” he asks at first, looking startled, eyes blinking as he shoves up from the couch to stare at me again. And then he belts out a long, low condescending laugh that does nothing but confuse me and piss me off further.

“Something funny?” I ask, fists clenched, curiosity piqued why this is so amusing to him.

“I should have known,” he says with a shake of his head, his body visibly relaxing.

Give me a reason, you fucker. Just one.

“Were you expecting somebody else?” I know my threat is nothing compared to the others he will face. That unexpectedly works in my favor.

“Yes. No.” That taunting smirk is back front and center. “Your pretty little wife, perhaps.”

Bingo.

I’m across the room in two seconds. Arm cocked. Fist flying. The give of flesh against my knuckles. The thud of bone connecting against bone. The crunch that is nowhere near satisfying enough after what he’s done to my family.

The sound of glass shattering as his arm hits the lamp and knocks it over breaks through my silent rage, brings me back to the here and now. Reminds me that I want some answers before I finish what he started.

I don’t worry about the neighbors hearing us and calling the cops. In places like this no one pays attention. They all keep their head down and stay in their own trouble. I should know. I grew up in a place just like this. No one came to the rescue of the little boy screaming in pain on the other side of the wall.

The thought fuels my anger. Adds strength to my resolve to not be that person. To not stoop to the level of the man in front of me.

But God, how I want to stoop.

“Look at me,” I yell. My voice fills the room. He lifts his head up from where he’s landed askew on the couch, a red welt swelling on his cheek. “Don’t talk about my wife, again. This is between you and me, you fucking bastard.”

That chuckle of his is louder, and it takes every ounce of restraint I have to not unleash the fury I feel.

Because I want what I came here for. Answers first. Vindication second. And, oh how sweet that last one will be. He doesn’t have a clue what’s about to hit him.

“You want to settle a score? Go right ahead. You think you scare me, Donavan? Think again. You. Can’t. Touch. Me. You’re such a pussy you have to bring your goddamn henchman over there,” he says, pointing to Sammy standing silently at the door, “to do your dirty work for you.”

“I think your black eye will prove I can do my own dirty work just fine.” I look over my shoulder and lift my chin to Sammy to tell him to leave. It’s better this way. No witnesses. No he said, she said. Just my word against Eddie’s. Kelly’s so damn convinced that Eddie’ll sue if I touch him anyway.

Oops. Guess I already broke that rule. My bad.

“Is everyone in your life that tight on your string? One pull on it and they dance?” He raises his eyebrows as his eyes follow Sammy out the door. I glare at him. Bide my time. He’s so fucking arrogant I can see him itching to gloat about how he pulled this all off.

“You don’t know shit about my life, Eddie.”

“I know I won’t dance. So how does it feel to pull a string and get back a big giant fuck you, huh?”

“Is that what this was all about? Proving you’re better than me?” I ask, feigning indifference when I’m anything but.

Take the bait, Eddie. Feed your ego. Prove. Me. Wrong.

He rises from the couch and steps toward me with eerie calm. “I am better than you,” he says as he steps right into my wheelhouse. Tempting me like never before. “And I’m not stupid either. Lift your shirt up. I bet your pansy ass is wearing a wire. Trying to hook me on something I didn’t do.”

Is he fucking crazy? Like I’d let the police on this little get together we’re having. Shit, he’s going to wish I went with a wiretap.

“Prison was that good to you, huh?” I taunt as I lift my shirt up and turn around for him to see I’m not wired. “You into guys now?

“Fuck you,” he spits.

“No thanks,” I say, taking a step closer. “I want nothing more from you than answers. Everything else you’ve got coming to you is of your own making.”

He quirks his head, arrogant smirk spreading wide. “Thanks to your son, nothing else is coming to me. Sold that picture of him to the tabloids.” He sneers. “Made a mint and paid off old debts. Thanks to Ace, I’m free and clear.”

Fucking pompous bastard. Joke’s on him though. That’s the only reason I’m not throwing another fist into his face.

“Bravo,” I say as I clap my hands slow and deliberately. His eyes narrow, his jaw clenches. Good. I’m pissing him off. “You could have made more money with the video though.” The lie flows off my tongue, but I have to force the words out. “Bet you didn’t think of that now, did you?”

There’s the hook, fucker. Take a big bite so I can set it.

“Prison has a way of putting things on hold.” He glares at me. “But it also allowed me a lot of time to plan, to figure out how to get the fucker back who put me there.”

“Get me back? For what? Because I didn’t let you waltz out of my office with the blueprints, sell them to someone else as your own, collect the royalties, and get away with it? Are you out of your fucking mind? Did you think I was going to let you take what was mine and use it?”