“You don’t even know what I want,” he says. He’s almost slinky as he straightens and spreads his hands. “For all you know, I don’t want a damned thing.”
“You always want something,” I growl, even as the door to the Jeep slams behind me and I hear Andrea moving up behind us. “I have yet to see you show up without your hand out.”
“Uncle Holt?” Andrea says faintly. “Is…is that you?”
Holt’s eyes flick past me. They’re so pale brown they’re almost yellow-gold, glinting in the porch light.
Like I said.
Fucking snake man.
“Hey, kiddo,” he says with an almost rueful smile, holding his arms out. “Wow, you shot up. Come give your uncle a hug, hey?”
“No,” I spit out again and shove myself between my daughter and my brother. Maybe I’m possessive, but he’s got a bad habit of putting his hands on what doesn’t belong to him and trying to keep it. “Stay away from her. You tell me what the hell you want, then you leave.”
“Jesus, Dad,” Andrea mutters at my back. “You’re mortifying.”
“Thanks for the ten-dollar word,” I mutter back. “Holt, talk. You’ve got sixty seconds, and that’s me being generous.”
Holt sighs. “We can’t do this inside?”
“You’re not welcome in my house.”
“Ah, c’mon. You’d think I’m fucking Dracula. Can’t come in unless invited.”
“Close enough,” I bark back. “You drain everything you touch dry.”
“Harsh,” he says, arching one brow and dipping a hand into the pocket of his black leather racing jacket. “Especially since I came to give you this.”
He offers a slim folded slip of paper.
Frowning, I take it and flip it open—and slowly realize what I’m staring at.
A check.
For five hundred thousand dollars, signed by the law firm that handled Ma’s estate after…
Yeah.
Last year.
I ain’t having a good few years with the people around me staying alive.
Maybe that’s why I get so psycho protective with Andrea.
And maybe that’s why I’m not interested in some pretty redhead with a splash of purple in her hair trying to get an angle on me. Don’t need more problems.
Hell, as much as I call Holt a vampire, I’m like the kiss of death.
And this check feels an awful lot like blood money.
My jaw feels like it weighs a ton as I look up at Holt. “She left it all to you. Don’t know why the fuck you’re giving me this.”
“Because it’s the right thing to do, Blake,” Holt points out quietly.
“Bull. You wouldn’t know the right thing to do if it leaped up and bit you in the ass.” I crumple the check in my fist—then think better of it. I unfurl it, then rip it to shreds, tearing it clean down the middle. “You’re trying to buy forgiveness. I ain’t that easily paid off.”
“Dammit, man,” Holt growls, slipping into his old small-town accent for a second and tilting his head back with a groan. “You’re still mad at me about that?”
“She was my wife—”
“And it was already over. The ink just wasn’t dry on the papers yet,” he throws back. “Nothing even happened. And you don’t understand the real situation—”
“Will you both stop?” Andrea flares, her voice thick, choked.
Holt and I both grow silent, turning our heads to look at her.
She stands on the steps with her face screwed up in a mask of gleaming teary-eyed fury, her fingers digging into the cover of her sketchbook, glaring at us.
“That’s my mom,” she sputters. “You’re standing here arguing over my mom and she’s dead. And your mom is dead too, Dad? I had…I had a grandmother I never knew about? And you never told me she died? And now you’re gonna stand here and argue over flipping money like nothing else matters?” Her lips tremble. “Assholes! You’re both assholes, and I hate that I’m related to you.”
Before either of us can say anything, she shoves past Holt and goes racing across the porch. There’s barely a frantic rattle of her house keys, and I catch a sniffle, a repressed hitch of breath that could be a sob.
Then she’s gone, disappearing inside, running away from us.
Fuck me.
I think I’d run, too.
Holt turns his head, craning over his shoulder, before looking at me with a small, almost sad smile I’ve never seen on that snake before.
“Well, she’s not wrong,” he says softly. “Maybe I took the wrong tack with this. I should’ve waited before I—”
I take a deep breath, letting the scraps of the check flutter free from my fingers. “Gonna need you to go. Right now,” I snap. Quieter, but I’m still pissed off. “This is not the day for this shit, man. This is so not the day. I can’t deal with you and your fuckery, Holt. Go.”
I half expect him to argue. Say something oily, slick, persuasive.
Snarling, I hold up a fist, fully ready to throw it into his nose if he gives me any lip.