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“Zane is right,” Andries says, pointing a finger in my face. “You’ll take the food out of my mouth.”
“I’m not trying to chase you away,” I say. “The garden will still require work.”
“Not a fucking self-sustained, ecosystem,” Zane shouts.
“I won’t tell you again—” Russell starts, but before he can finish his sentence, Andries charges.
He shoves me hard, making me lose my balance. I fall down on my ass, catching myself on my hands. Russell jumps toward the old man, and Anne screams something as she comes charging from the house, but I tune them out. All I’m aware of is the sharp teeth of the garden fork Andries presses on my chest.
Chapter 12
Damian
There’s a commotion in the garden when I get back to the house from buying Lina’s tampons. Andries, Zane, Russell, and Lina are all outside. It looks as if Andries is about to attack Lina. The old man is waving his finger in her face while everyone speaks at once, everyone except Lina. She stands quietly in the center of the fight.
I’m out of the car and almost there when the crazy old man jumps. With a shove, he pushes Lina to the ground. Fuck. I drop my parcel and sprint. He lifts the garden fork he’s clutching in one hand over Lina’s chest. Anne screams from somewhere behind me. Before I can make it to them, Andries pins the spikes of the fork to Lina’s body, right on her heart. I scream for Russell, but he’s already drawn his gun. As the barrel indents Andries’ temple, the old man freezes. I push Anne, who arrives at the same time as me, out of the way in my rush to reach them.
Zane lifts his hands. “Dami, don’t.”
I’m shaking. I should order the fucker shot. The threat on Lina’s life warrants it. Zane knows that. It’s having Andries’ brains blown all over Lina that prevents me.
“Dami, please. Nothing happened.”
“Put down the fork, Andries,” I say in a steady but don’t-fuck-with-me voice.
His fingers tighten around the shaft.
“Andries.” I edge closer, slowly. “Put down the fork and no one will get hurt.”
Russell is ready to pull the trigger.
“Pops,” Zane says. “Do as Dami says.”
“Pops, please,” Anne adds in a tremulous voice.
Andries is half-senile, but he must’ve realized what his actions would cost him. After another tense second, he relaxes his grip on the fork. I waste no time in disarming him. Only when the fork is securely in Zane’s hands do I dare to speak again.
“Get him out of my sight,” I say through clenched teeth. God knows what I’ll do to him if he lingers in my presence.
“Dami—”
“I said out of my goddamn sight!”
Zane jumps.
Anne takes Andries’ arm. “Come on, Pops.”
I address Zane. Andries doesn’t exist to me any longer. “I want him and his things off my property. You have an hour.”
This time, Zane knows better than to argue. He follows Anne quietly toward the garden cottage where Andries lives. Russell flips back the safety and holsters his gun.
Too shaken to speak, I hold out a hand for Lina. She allows me to pull her to her feet, trembling under my palms. Her face is whiter than the clouds in the sky. Gripping her shoulders, I drag my gaze over her. She’s covered in dust, but there’s no blood. Andries didn’t break skin.
Wordlessly, I steer her away. I retrieve the parcel where I dropped it before bringing her to my study where I pour us each a drink. After she’s downed her whisky, I pull her into my arms.
“Fuck, Lina.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
She’s sorry? “What the hell happened?”
“I want to change the garden.”
“That caused Andries’ reaction?” I ask in disbelief.
“I want to change it to an ecosystem.”
“Why?”
“For the bats.”
“For the bats.” The fucking bats could’ve cost her life.
“Andries thought he’d lose his job if we do away with the cultured garden.”
I take a swallow of the liquor in my glass. Not all the alcohol in the world is enough to calm my nerves. “He’s lost it now.”
“Where will he go?”
“Not my problem.”
“How will he live?”
“Not your problem.”
“Damian,” she says with reprimand.
“Stop worrying. Zane earns enough to take care of him. After what happened, I don’t want him on the property.” I leave my empty glass on the liquor tray and catch her shoulders between my hands. “You’re still trembling.”
“I’ve had a fright.”
I bloody well bet. “Why didn’t you tell me about your plans?”
She steps away from my touch. “I just met someone for a quote this morning. I didn’t want to tell you until I had costs.”
“You should’ve told me.”
“Are you angry?”
Am I angry? I’m fucking livid. I saw her life being threatened and felt mine cyphering away at the terrifying notion of losing her. She makes me weak, and she doesn’t even know it. “Not with you.”
She bites her lip as she studies me for a moment before asking, “May I go, then?”
