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“Only my closest men, but word travels.”
“Then ensure it doesn’t,” he suggests. “If they don’t know, we can deal with this between us.”
“How?”
“Make him work under you.”
I smirk. “You want me to employ the man who stole from me, who stole my wife?”
“Yes. He’d hate it, but maybe he’d learn something. And it would be a punishment for him, being bossed around by you all day.”
I laugh, but he’s right. “No offence, but I don’t trust him around my wife or my sister.”
“Look, he’s my son, when you have your own son one day, you’ll think back to this moment and realise my dilemma. If you have to take a life, take mine.”
His words cause a storm in my head. “You’re offering yourself over him?” I ask.
He nods. “He’s in my club. I’m the leader. It should come back to me.” It’s noble, and something my father would never have done. “My club is my life, so are my kids. I’d do anything for them.”
“I need to see him,” I say. “Bring him to me tomorrow, same time. We’ll come to an agreement.”
Me: When I was ten, I watched my father beat my mother half to death.
I stare at the text before hitting send and then I knock back my drink, wincing at the throat burn. Seconds later, my phone beeps.
Piper: When I was ten, I stole my mum’s tallest heels, dressed in her silk nightdress and tried to walk downstairs to show my parents how grown up I looked. I slipped, fell and broke my left ankle. Your father was an arse.
I smile before typing the next one.
Me: When I was eleven, a neighbour called the police on him. They’d heard screams from the house. She laid on the floor at his feet, cowering, and he told the police she was fine. They walked away, apologising for disturbing him. That’s when I knew I had to grow up to be like him. The alternative was to be crushed by him knowing no one could help.
Piper: At eleven, I kissed a boy. He was smaller than me and I had to crouch down. His breath smelt like cheese and he groped my non-existent breast, telling me I was flatter than a pancake. It hurt my feelings. I hated Peter Smith. He was a prick.
Me: I know people. I’ll find him. Kill him and chop off his hands.
Piper: Did your mother ever try to leave?
Me: No. Not once. She loved him. Love is blind and, in her case, that was true.
Piper: I’m sorry you had a shit father.
Hulk arrives five minutes earlier than arranged. I pour myself a drink, not bothering to offer him one. He watches as I carefully add ice and swirl it around. “Give me a reason not to kill you, Hulk.”
He stands confidently. “Piper would never forgive you.”
“You think I care if she forgives me?” I snap.
“Yes.”
“Your father stood before me yesterday and offered himself over you,” I spit. “You don’t deserve him.” He looks surprised by this news. “Why did you do it?”
“Because I could.”
I slam my hand on the table. “Don’t fucking stand here and give me nothing, Hulk, because I am so close to ending you.”
“It was for her,” he hisses angrily. “Because I knew you’d fuck it up and break her heart. So, I took it for her, so she could get as far away from you as she could.”
I take a calming breath. “Yet you stopped her?”
