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“Not as sorry as you’re going to be, you sick fuck.” I point to the girl without taking my eye off him, blood pumping through my veins, heart racing as I look at this piece of shit. I’m ready to kill him. “You like beating defenseless girls, forcing yourself on them? That’s how you get your kicks, huh? I’m no defenseless girl. Come at me, mother fucker.”
I stand, seething in hatred, staring at the guy who who could destroy the beautiful soul of the most amazing girl I have ever known, leaving her gutted through and broken. A ghost of the person I love.
The fucker actually laughs, blood trickling down his nose. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I’ve never had to force a girl to do anything they didn’t want me to, as you can see. Right, Lexi?”
“He’s not forcing me to do anything, I swear!” the girl on the bed blurts out in a frantic shaken voice.
“Lucky you. Get the fuck out, Lexi.” She doesn’t move fast enough, and I yell, “Get out!” with a rage so potent my head throbs, probably scaring her half to death as she races out the door past Trigg, who hasn’t moved.
I’m ready to gut him when I hear a commotion behind me, voices raised, cursing. I get a look at Trigg pointing his gun at a pack of frat fucks who abruptly stop at the sight of the gleaming metal.
“Put the fucking gun down. There is no way you’re going to get out of here,” one says.
“If by chance you do get past the front door, it won’t be before you get your ass beat,” another says.
Trigg gives an easy smile, brandishing his gun side to side, taking aim. “I never did trust a rich motherfucker. Think...Which one of you wants your head blown off?” He closes one eye. “Go ahead, make my day. Twitch, and I will drop your asses.” He looks at them and nods. “Now that we understand each other, we won’t be long. My man came here to get something done. He’s not leaving until he’s finished.”
My full attention is back where it belongs. I know I need to make this fast. The fucker smiles wide, wiping his hand across his nose. “Like I said, I didn’t force anyone to do anything. It’s the sweet, quiet ones you have to watch out for. Sneaky little devils, they are. Maybe she didn’t want to tell you she found something she likes better and wanted it right where it counted, between her sweet, soft, quivering thighs, and she was too scared to tell you she got exactly what she asked for.”
“You sick fuck!” I charge. Crippling anger and rage beyond belief fuels me forward, crashing into a solid wall. Fists fly. Bones crunch. A metallic taste floods my mouth when his fist connects to my lips. Hardly fazed, I block his next jab to my face, landing a swift knee between his legs following up with a right to the jaw.
He staggers back, hunched over, but I don’t stop—I can’t. Another right, and he falls over. I reach down, picking him up by the shirt, and swing a left in blind rage, the impact splattering blood across the room and over my shirt. I land another. More blood runs down his face and over my hands, but I can’t stop, even when I let go, dropping him to the floor with a thud.
“Come on,” I taunt. “Don’t make this easy for me. Show me how you did it. You’re the man, you sick motherfucker!” I grab him by the throat, pinning him to the floor while he gasps for air. His hand comes up, hitting me on the side of the head, but it’s a glancing blow, and I feel nothing but rage. A blinding rage, blacker and darker than the abyss of nothing.
That’s enough!” Trigg shouts, but it’s distant. I’m not sure if it’s him until a hand rests over mine. “Landon, don’t do this man. Enough. Don’t let him do this to you. You’re going to kill him.”
“He deserves it.”
“I know he does. But think about Lacey. Seeing you behind bars will kill her. Don’t do this to her. Don’t take what’s left of her world away from her.” My hands are stiff, bloodied and bruised. Using one hand, he slowly pries my hand away from a half-breathing Robert Stanton III. I fall back on my ass, blank, drained, in a daze.
Trigg shakes me, trying to get me back, pulling on my arm. “Get the fuck up, Landon. We have to go, now.”
He comes back into focus, and I see blood. Blood everywhere. All over my hands, my clothes, the floor, the piece of shit writhing and gasping on the floor for air. “Let’s go,” I say, returning to my senses.
Trigg cocks his gun back, yelling at the assholes to move even as they scream threats. “You’re done for! We better not catch your ass around here; you’re dead!”
We cross by a couple of guys who start backing up once they see us. Tearing down the street, we jump into his car, speeding off back to where we left my car parked. I get out, slamming the door, and Trigg says, “Hey, where are you going, man?”
I hear the worry in his voice, but I don’t look at him. I can’t. “I have no idea,” I lie. We both know there is no place for me to go now. “You better get out of here and take care of that.” I point to the gun.
“Gimme yours; I’ll take care of that too.” He holds out his hand.
I hand it to him. “Thanks,” I say, looking at him now.
He smiles. “Think nothing of it. I know you’d do the same for me.” He locks the guns in the glove box and drives away.
I get in my car and make a call to Victoria Wells, Lacey’s attorney. I tell her everything—that Lacey’s pregnant, and the baby’s not mine. Now she has a case, and no-hassle DNA because I’m covered in it. Yeah, I know I didn’t need to do that for it. Just something I needed to do. Then I drive to my final destination. I walk through the doors, and before the man behind the desk says anything to me I say, “My name is Landon Jessup. I’m here to turn myself in. I don’t have anything else to say until my attorney gets here.”
