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“I’m going to kill him,” Reed says.

“Not if I kill him first.”

He’s fisting and un-fisting his fingers as if warming them up. “I should’ve killed him a long time ago.”

“And since you didn’t, I should’ve killed him two days ago when I found out what he was doing.”

“Well, we’re going to finish the job tonight.”

With that, he pushes the front door open and enters his own house for the first time in probably over a year. Or even more. I’m not real familiar with their history except to know that Reed’s always hated his father and the feeling is mutual. Anyway, he makes a beeline for what I assume is his father’s office and bursts through that door as well.

And there he is.

The asshole who’s been hurting her.

He sits in a throne-like chair, his neck encased in a brace and his face pockmarked with bruises. Even though as I said my beating didn’t do the job of putting him six feet under, I’m still proud of the fact that I did him some damage. And I think it made an impression because at the sight of me, his eyes widen and he draws back in his chair.

Afraid.

Good.

He recovers quickly though and says, “What the fuck are you doing here? How the fuck is he out?”

“Turns out, you don’t own every judge in town,” Reed replies, coming to a stop by his desk.

“How did I not know about this?”

“Maybe you’re not paying your lackeys enough anymore.” He smirks. “I hear you’re having money problems.”

His father goes for his cell phone, his eyes narrowed. “I’m calling the fucking cops. And then we can talk about money problems. Because I see that in your future.”

Reed reaches forward and takes the phone from his grip. Throwing it across the room, he says, “Let’s talk about your future first. Because it’s looking bleaker than mine.”

His father grinds his jaw. “You think you can intimidate me, boy. I could crush you with my bare hands.”

“Christ, you’ve been saying that since forever,” Reed mutters.

“One phone call and everything’s gone. Everything that you worked so hard to build. Everything that you did to get out from under my fucking boots and —”

“All right,” I interrupt, already bored with his yapping. “You don’t need to talk for this part. So why don’t you shut up and listen?”

He turns toward me then.

His eyes are bloody and shooting fire, and I don’t like the fact that his fear is gone.

No matter, I’m going to put it back in there, in his very soul, where it belongs.

“Who do you think you are, huh?” he spits out. “Who do you think you’re talking to, you —”

“Told you, all you need to do is listen,” I cut him off. “It’s for your own good.”

“My own good, huh.”

“Yeah, and by that I mean, if you wanna live through tomorrow.”

“You —”

“The bottom line is: I want you to leave her alone.”

"Leave who alone?”

“My wife.”

“Your wife.”

“Because I don’t like it when someone messes with her.”

“Yeah, he gets real angry about that,” Reed supplies.

“And I don’t care if that someone is her scum of the earth father,” I finish.

He watches me for a few beats. Then smirking, “And what makes you think I’ll listen to you and leave her alone after she fucking destroyed everything?”

Ignoring his cocky statement, I go on, “And then I want you to make the bullshit inquiry into your son’s shop go away.” At this, he chuckles but I keep going. “And when you’re done with all that, I want you to drop the charges against me too.”

He loses his shit and laughs at that.

I give him time to get over his mirth.

It may be a while before he laughs again.

“Well that was hilarious,” he says, still chuckling.

I cock my head to the side. “As I said, it’s for your own good.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, because I hear these Russians are ruthless.” Then, addressing Reed, “Aren’t they?”

Finally I see fear sneaking back into his eyes.

Just the way I wanted.

Reed shrugs. “That’s what I hear too.” Then, turning to his father, “And don’t you owe them a bunch of money, Father? The money you don’t have.”

“The money you never had,” I say.

“And you were never planning on giving them anyway,” Reed adds.

“What?” the asshole barks.

“That’s what they’re going to think when I tell them that the daughter you were planning to marry off in exchange for selling your pathetic company is already married. She’s been married for months now. Not only that, she’s pregnant. With my babies.”

“Which can only mean one thing, Dad, can’t it?” Reed asks with something akin to glee in his voice.

“That you were lying to them all along,” I fill in. “That you had no intention of ever giving them what you owe.”

“And lying is a bad thing,” Reed says. “It’s a really bad thing when you do it to those Russians.”

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