“Did you hear what I said?” I ask, rage foaming at the corners of my mouth. “You stole from her.” Lowering to a crouch, our eyes lock. I think it’s now that he realizes this is serious.
“We were together. You can’t rape your girlfriend,” he argues. He actually fuckin’ argues, and for that, he earns himself a hand necklace.
Guess they aren’t just for women.
He sucks in a dramatic breath as my fingers sink deeper into his windpipe. There are gurgling noises, and I don’t know if it’s his throat closing and choking on spit or my anger boiling in my ears.
I let him go.
“Don’t,” he breathes, gasping. “Don’t kill me, please. We’re having a winning season.”
I narrow my eyes. I can’t fuckin’ believe this guy.
As much as I want to kill this fuckin’ prick, I know that ain’t good for Goldie. Plus, he owes her. A lotta shit he can’t give back, but some he can.
“What’s the severance entitled to an employee who's been with the team for six years? Do you know?”
He shakes his head and has an arrogance about him that surprises me. I mean, he ain’t standin’ over me.
“Figure it out. Right this fuckin’ second, figure it out.”
He blinks. “H-How?” Then he grows balls. His eyes start moving around over my body, clearly looking for a reason why he should obey me.
I snap in front of his face to bring his focus back to me. “I don’t need a gun to make you do what I want.” I lean down and let him smell my breath. “You’ll do what I want because we both know I can end you with just my hands.”
I stand back up, considering my own words. “Maybe just one hand.”
“I, I don’t know who you are to her or–”
“I’m her old man, that’s who.” The pride I feel saying those words makes me realize I have to tell Goldie. I can’t just agree when she says you know I like you; I gotta say the words back to her. Make sure she knows.
He straightens on the couch, using his shirt to collect the blood still flowing from his nose. Beneath his eyes, dark begins to surface. He’s going to look like a goddamn wreck for a while. “You’re a real fuckin’ moron,” he says. “Your DNA is all over this place. You just told me how to find you. Whatever you do, you’ll be caught.”
I laugh because he’s not understanding.
“My DNA?” Reaching down, I grab the neck of his shirt and yank him to his feet, only to crush my fist into his cheek one more time, sending him back down to the couch with a feminine moan.
Bet he didn’t moan like that when he forced himself on her. Bet he was all fucking man then.
“You think I’m scared of living in a cage?” I swallow, and the house falls silent. He holds his breath. “I’ll live in a cage like an animal for the rest of my fuckin’ life if it means I got to watch all your blood drain from your body with my knife in your throat and my boot on your chest.” I smile. “I ain’t scared of prison.”
“The cops will get you,” he argues, but there ain’t much fight in his voice.
“You wanna make that bet? You wanna bet that the police are smarter, faster, and stronger than me?” I roll my knuckles into my palm, cracking them like normal. He watches as if it’s an intimidation tactic. Truthfully, I’ve never done this before. I’ve never beaten a man or taken revenge on anyone.
“What do you want from me?” he asks.
“I told you. I want Goldie to get her severance. And I want the footage. All of it.”
“I have copies,” he says smugly as blood drips down his chin into his lap. I’m a little embarrassed for this guy. He hasn’t even tried to fight me, not really.
“That’s great. You keep those copies of you filming someone without their permission time and time again, which is, by the way, illegal. You had,” I start counting off on my fingers all the shit I read about on Google the other night. All I gotta do is sound like I’m the authority, even if I ain’t totally got my footing here. “Intent to record, did not notify her that you had an electronic recording device, did not respect her privacy or the privacy of the intimate space and moment, and you didn’t have consent–in more ways than one.”
“That was just the last time,” he defends, as if the fact he only did it once without her consent somehow makes him less of a villain. Changes it from a mortal sin to some palatable “oops.” No fuckin’ way.
“You’d be going to prison; you know that, right? Ain’t no breaking and entering or punching your lights out that’s gonna be worse for me than what you already did. And have, according to you, many, many opportunities to prove you did it.”
He swallows, dropping his forehead to his hands while he curses.