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“Hey!” He snapped his fingers in front of her face. “Where the fuck did you go?”
Shell jumped then glanced toward the swings. Thankfully, Beth played, blissfully unaware of the monster nearby.
“Nowhere. What do you want?” she snapped.
He stroked the beard that needed some serious TLC. Instead of sexy, like his big brother’s facial hair, Rusty’s looked about three weeks past the need for a trim. For whatever reason, it wasn’t growing in evenly, and some tufts were longer than others. After an inhale, she wrinkled her nose. He also smelled…like—
“Pussy,” he said with a wink.
“Excuse me?”
“Had a pretty wild fucking night last night. Didn’t have time for a shower. Probably smell like pussy. A few of them.”
Her wrinkled nose turned into a full-on grimace of disgust. “You’re a pig, Rusty. I’ll ask you one more time before I leave to be with my daughter. What the fuck do you want?” She jammed her trembling hands on her hips and tried to make her whopping five-foot-two inches look bigger and at least somewhat menacing.
“Whose daughter?” he asked, the smirk-from-hell growing even more arrogant.
I hate him. I hate him.
“What. Do. You. Want.”
He threw back his head and laughed. God, how she’d love to hit him. But first off, her daughter was present, and she needed someone in her life who didn’t condone violence since she sure as hell wasn’t going to get that lesson from her many uncles and definitely not her Aunt Izzy. Sometimes, Shell wished for Izzy’s courage. Izzy would rip Rusty’s nuts off and force him to eat them. Shell just didn’t have that in her.
“Well, doll, I want to know what you think you just saw.”
“What?” She faked it harder than she’d ever faked anything in her life. “I’m just here playing with my daughter, Rusty. Told you I wasn’t spying on you.”
The narrowed eyes and continued smirk told her he wasn’t buying it. And that meant she’d been right. He’d stolen from the club and was using that money to buy meth. And probably sell it for quite a hefty profit.
She had to tell Copper.
And Rusty knew it.
He leaned close, the familiar scent of him rolling through her system like food poisoning. Shell bit her lower lip. Hard. Hopefully, the sting from her teeth would override the urge to vomit. “Still have that video, doll. You remember the one?”
I’m going to fuck you, Shell. Club pussy is great, but sometimes I want something a little less…broken in. Before you say no, let me show you a video.
Those were the words that turned her entire life upside down years ago. And she’d be damned if she’d allow him to control her again.
She forced a huff, working to sound incredulous instead of hysterical. “I’m not a kid anymore, Rusty. You don’t scare me like you used to.” She had resources now and an adults way of thinking and seeking help.
He shrugged like the words held no meaning. “I’m pretty sure I can get you to come around to my way of thinking.” The smirk disappeared, replaced by an ugly sneer. The man looked like he needed a shower with an iron scrub brush. “Thinking a girl needs her daddy in her life, know what I mean?” One red eyebrow arched.
Rusty had so many commonalities with Copper. Same green eyes, same red hair, similar height, and many mannerisms that mirrored each other. How could the brothers be so far apart in personality and morals?
Shell swallowed a rise of bile. This was all too familiar. The threats, the fear, the helplessness.
“What do you want?”
“Well, I’d love a repeat of our time together, wouldn’t you? But with you fucking my big bad brother, that might be a little harder this time around.” He winked. “I might be able to figure out a workaround though. You remember how it was back then?”
Quiet, doll. You know what the club’ll do to me if we’re caught, don’t you? And you know what that means for your precious Copper?
She shuddered. She remembered all right. Remembered countless nights crying herself to sleep. Remembered the shame, the guilt, the hatred, the feeling of being dirty no matter how many showers she took. Remembered the panic when the little stick had showed a plus sign. Remembered the all-consuming fear she wouldn’t be able to stomach holding her own child. Remembered the hours of therapy just to be able to look at herself in the mirror.
Yeah, she remembered it all.
“Go to hell, Rusty.”
He folded his arms across his chest and scoffed. “Been there, blondie. Ain’t going back. But Copper, now he could very well end up where I was, couldn’t he? Except for much longer. For the rest of his life.”
The very same dread that threat caused eight years ago rose in her and her vision tunneled. In all her life, nothing else had brought on the intense, visceral reaction Rusty’s threat invoked.
