“You’re helping, are you? Helping to fix what you caused? Or to make it worse while you’re pretending to give a shit? Standing here and crying. How fucking dare you? You did this. You know you fucking did this.”
Ian’s Adam’s apple rose and fell as he hauled in jerky breaths. “It was never supposed to happen this way.”
Simon reared forward, his hands locking around Ian’s throat. And he didn’t look away as Ian’s eyes bulged and his face grew red.
The fucker didn’t even fight back.
Simon might not have stopped. His hands were like iron clamps around Ian’s neck, and he could feel the life draining away. It wouldn’t take long. He deserved to pay. To fucking hurt for what he’d done to Margo—
Margo.
Christ, he couldn’t do this. He had to be here for her. To be the man she loved and make sure he brought her home. Where she belonged.
Her and their baby.
He let Ian go and stumbled backward, hardly cognizant of how Ian sagged to the table. Draping over it as he gasped for air and clawed futilely at the tabletop.
The door swung open, slamming against the wall. The sight of Nicky standing in the doorway, his jaw locked tight and his eyes wild, made Simon turn away and bend to brace his hands on his knees.
He couldn’t do this.
Couldn’t say the words that would make it real.
“You.”
Some part of Simon almost felt bad for Ian. Nicky wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t even pause.
In the neighborhood they’d come from, they didn’t wait for explanations. Or apologies.
Ian was as good as dead.
“Don’t you fucking touch him.”
Simon’s head whipped around at the sound of another voice, sharper and female. The blond shot into the room like a bullet, sliding between Nicky and the conference table where Ian was pulling himself to his feet.
Zoe. Ian’s girlfriend. Lila’s fucking cousin.
Nicky stepped back, blood in his eye. His hands fisted.
“You did this,” Nicky said in a low voice as if he didn’t hear the tiny blond who gripped his shirt. “You did this to Margo as surely as if you’d slammed into her fucking car.”
Ian said nothing, just frantically rubbed his throat. Probably couldn’t speak. Served him right.
Fucking mute Judas.
Except he wasn’t. Because he’d never been on Simon’s side in the first place, so he hadn’t had to turn.
When Ian didn’t say anything, Nicky advanced on him—until pint-sized Zoe reared up and slapped him dead in the face.
Lila’s cousin indeed.
“What did I just say to you? Step the fuck back.”
Nicky didn’t even look down at her even as he wore her handprint across his cheek. “Why don’t you tell your little defender what you’ve done? Or are you not even man enough to be honest?”
Zoe shoved Nicky back and moved to Ian, reaching up to cup his face. The show of tenderness despite what he’d done—what he had to have done, because there was no other explanation—made Simon’s hands ball up again.
He should’ve fucking finished the job.