Who writes letters? Why didn’t he just try and call her from a burner phone?
“Her father kept me from her, and then gave her away to someone else. Someone who doesn’t even know her. You.” His fingers tighten around the gun and he raises his arm, aiming it straight at me. “First, I need to destroy you. And then I’ll take out her father. Only then can Charlotte and I be together.”
I don’t even think. It’s as if every rational thought I’ve ever had leaves me as I jump toward him, my hands out, knocking the gun from his grip. It drops to the floor with a heavy clank, skidding across the tile and Seamus falls to his knees, scrambling to retrieve it.
I drop on top of him, pinning him beneath me, my hands everywhere as I try to grab hold of his wrists. He struggles beneath me, his feet grappling, his upper torso bucking in a desperate attempt to hurl me off of him.
Fuck that.
Pressing my knees to the floor, I rise up, straddling him, my fist finding his jaw. A groan leaves him when I make contact and I do it again.
Then again.
Until it’s all I can do. I’m hitting him repeatedly, blood streaming from his mouth. His nose. His eyes begin to swell. He’s pleading with me to stop.
And still I hit him.
Every blow is for the fear he caused my wife. What he did to her, he can never redeem himself for. She may never recover from the trauma he put her through, but I will do my best to make sure she never feels unsafe again. I will protect her from evil.
Especially the evil this man perpetrates.
“What the fuck? Perry!”
The door swings open, but I don’t look up. I’m too intent on destroying this motherfucker. All the fight has left him. He doesn’t move. He’s not even groaning anymore, and I know if I don’t stop now, I’m going to kill him.
Hesitating, I think of Charlotte, and what she’s said to me. How I can’t take any risks when it comes to Seamus. I need to be there for her.
And our child.
Hands grab at the back of my suit jacket, slipping under my armpits before yanking me off of Seamus McFuckedup. I roar my disapproval, struggling to get out of their grip when I realize it’s Finn Lancaster who pulled me off of him.
“Calm down, bro,” he says as he pushes me away from Seamus. So hard I run straight into the wall with a thud. “Fuck, you messed him up.”
I lean against the wall, breathing hard, my vision blurry and stained with red. “I want to kill him.”
“Clearly.” Finn kicks at Seamus’s shins, making the man groan in agony. “But you don’t want to go down for murder.”
“I don’t care what I go down for,” I mutter, though I don’t mean a word of it.
Not really.
If I’m in jail, then I can’t see my baby be born. I can’t watch my baby grow. I can’t make more babies with my wife, and create a life with her that’s worth living.
That’s the only reason I don’t return to Seamus and finish the job.
The only one.
Finn flies into action, locking the bathroom door before he pulls out his phone and calls someone. From his low murmurs, I figure out he’s talking to Grant, and I watch him as I try and calm my racing heart. My pounding head.
“He’s coming right now,” Finn says once he ends the call. “He’s grabbing Winston first.”
Swallowing hard, I check the time on my phone, remembering the speech I was supposed to give. I bet my brother is pissed at me.
I kind of don’t give a shit, considering I had another problem to take care of.
Within minutes there’s a rapid knock on the door, the unmistakable sound of both Grant and Winston’s deep voices coming from the other side. Finn lets them in, the both of them stopping short in front of the crumpled waste of a man lying on the floor.
Winston’s gaze finds mine first. “What the hell happened?”