“Let me go before I make you.”
My fake husband doesn’t respond, but he also doesn’t loosen his arms.
“You let your friend fight all your battles for you?” my dad taunts me, even as he keeps his distance.
Before I can warn Charlie to keep his mouth shut, he’s already talking.
“I’m not her friend. I’m her husband.”
The mocking superiority drains from my father’s face.
Fucking hell.
I should’ve run.
CHAPTER 36
CHARLIE
When Luna mutters a string of curses under her breath, I know I’ve messed up.
“You fucking bitch.” The older white man’s face turns an ugly, blotchy red.
The insult shouldn’t surprise me after the word he just threw my way. But I find myself angrier on Luna’s behalf than on my own.
Still, I’m not a fighter. Never prone to getting into physical altercations. And yet I burn to punch this guy in the face, even if I break my hand in the attempt because I don’t know the right way to throw a punch.
Now Luna could probably tear the man limb from limb, but she didn’t seem bent on a brawl until he insulted me. No way am I letting her put herself in danger on my behalf.
The red-faced stranger looks ready to implode.
“You want that money for yourself! You called me greedy? Like father, like daughter, huh?”
“I’m nothing like you!” Luna pushes against my hold. But she doesn’t break free, and I’m ninety-nine percent sure she could if she wanted to. If she didn’t mind hurting me in the process.
The man who must be Bill Lamont steps toward us, and I stare in disgust at the person who should love and support the woman in my arms unconditionally. Instead, he insults and threatens her. I can barely comprehend the horror of it.
I need this man as far away from my wife as I can manage.
Sirens sound in the distance, sparking an idea.
“I called the cops before I came out here,” I say, meeting his bloodshot gaze.
Mr. Lamont flinches back, wild eyes flicking toward the front of the house, where we all hear the faint sound of the emergency response. His feet turn the way of his stare, and he makes a retreat.
Just when I think we’re free of him, Luna’s father snaps out a quick kick at his daughter’s raised garden. The wood splinters under his heavy boot, letting fresh soil spill onto the ground.
“This isn’t over!” he bellows, picking up his pace as the sirens get louder.
The gate clangs shut behind him, and a second later, we hear the roar of an engine.
I drop my hold.
“Did you actually call the cops?” Luna asks, voice strained.
“No. I lied. Worked though.” Without her in my arms, I fight an empty sensation, cracking my knuckles as a distraction. “So, that was your dad?” I can see why she’d never want that man to have the money.
“Damn it!” Luna stomps across the yard, away from me, then stops to glare down at the ground, her arms crossed and entire body tense.
