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And find myself face to face with a very pissed Martin Patterson.
“Mr. Zakrevsky,” he grinds through his teeth, eyeing me up and down. “What a surprise to see you here.” He flicks his gaze around me. “With my family.”
“Not as surprising as finding Willow here.”
Martin grunts and shoulders past me. “Willow, honey, come here.”
It’s not difficult to see the way she instantly stills. Her little fingers start to tremble, and she leans in closer to Clara.
“Martin—”
But he doesn’t listen to her, and he doesn’t fucking care. He just barrels over to them and yanks Willow by the arm, hard. She cries out in pain and fear, but he only pulls more. “I saidnow!”
He turns to drag her away.
I meet his face with my fist.
Fuck,does that feel good.
Martin stumbles backward, his grip on Willow instantly loosened. Clara takes that opportunity to snatch her back, which I take asmyopportunity to finally give this asshole the beatdown of his life. I don’t fucking care if we’re surrounded by cops. I don’t fucking care if I get arrested or shot or even killed.
I’m taking this motherfucker down with me.
I grab the front of his shirt and swing at his face again, this time cracking his nose. Blood spurts everywhere; he shrieks and falls to the floor when I drop him.
Which I only do because Greg, the receptionist, and about three other cops have their guns trained on me.
“Dad!” Clara quickly stands and tries to lower his arms.
“He’s a bad man, Clara!” Greg only briefly glances at her, unwilling to lose track of my movements. “I don’t know what you two have going on, but it ends now! You need to leave him and come home.”
“Dad!” She repeats her plea and tugs on his arm harder. “Demyen’s been taking better care of me than Martin ever did! And you saw what just happened. He’s only protecting Willow,your granddaughter.”
That makes him hesitate. At least he has the decency to nod to his colleagues to put their weapons away, and then he very slowly lowers his.
He stares at me with no small amount of disdain and disgust. “You don’t know what this man is capable of.”
“And neither do you.” Clara keeps her voice gentle, but she slowly steps between us and stands her ground. “Demyen is a good man. Who do you think enrolled Willow in her school? Who do you think drove me here to get her back?”
Greg wavers. I can see it in his eyes: he’s losing whatever ground he thought he could stand on. “Even so, it’s wrong to stand between a family. You need to make things right, Clara. Give Willow the family she deserves?—”
Clara sucks in a sharp breath and backs into me. “I’m not going back with Martin.”
“Everyone makes mistakes, Clara. You know that. Will you be so selfish and unforgiving to the poor man?” Greg gestures to where Martin has managed to crawl to the side and nurse his probably-broken nose. “And what about your daughter? She needs her father?—”
“She needs a father, not a one-pump sperm donor.”
Bambi’s brows meet her hairline. She does her damned best not to smirk.
I, however, am done listening to this selfish bastard’s gaslighting. “It’s understandable for you to not recognize the difference. Fortunately, Clara and I do. Now, unless there’s any other bullshit reason to keep us here, we’re leaving.”
I turn Clara with me and quickly scoop Willow up with one arm. She is all too happy to cling to me. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Bambi staring at me with a weird look on her face, but I brush it off and focus on steering my girls to the door.
“Wait!” Martin stuffs a tissue up his nose and angrily storms after us. “Wait a goddamn minute!”
“Detective Patterson!”
Martin freezes. What little blood he has left drains from his face.
