Reaching out, he hit the garage light and took in the man standing across from him. “What’re you doing here?”
His old man squinted against the light, then lifted a bottle, clear liquid sloshing up to his cracked lips, taking two generous slugs. “I wanted to see my boy.” His words were slurred, and the gin he was sucking back, always his liquor of choice, dribbled down his chin. He looked like shit.
“Sure you did.” He planted his hands on his hips. “When did they let you out?”
“S’morning.” Lifting the hand gripping his precious gin he pointed a finger at Reid. “Why’d you have to go and call the cops on me, boy? You know I hate being locked up.”
“You broke the conditions of your restraining order. It was your own damn fault. You want to stay out of jail, stay away from her.”
His father’s face twisted into something resembling pain, then morphed into outright rage. “She’s my wife. You need to keep the fuck out of it. You’ve always been a mama’s boy, a gutless piece of shit. I should have ended your miserable little life when you were still in your mother’s belly, should have kicked you right out of there.” He wiped his sleeve across his mouth. “I tried, did you know that? I kicked and kicked, but you’d already gotten your hooks in, like the fucking parasite you are.”
It took all his strength to hold his ground, not to unleash all the pent-up anger he’d been carrying around over losing Rusty on the bastard standing in front of him. He’d heard the story before. It was one of the old man’s favorites. He loved to tell Reid how he broke three of his mother’s ribs while she was pregnant with him, how much pain she’d been in the entire nine months she carried him because of it. But his favorite part of the story, the part he relished telling, was how much she’d hated Reid because of it. How she could never really love him because he’d caused her nothing but hurt.
When he was a kid, he’d believed every word of it, believed that it was somehow his fault. That he’d hurt her. The bastard had taken advantage of the fact time and again.
His father wasn’t just a drunk, he was an evil, sadistic motherfucker, and he’d never change. So yeah, he wanted to take the bastard down. But he’d learned a long time ago that it wasn’t worth it, he wasn’t worth it.
“You need to leave now, before I call the cops again and they haul your ass in. And if you go near Ma, she’ll do the same.”
Instead of backing off, he stumbled forward. “I’m sick of you telling me what to do, ordering me about. You kicked me out of my own damn house, poisoned my wife against me. No more. You hear me?” He lifted his arm slowly, the one not clutching his bottle of gin, and brought up a gun. Then without batting an eyelid, pointed it at Reid’s face. “No more.”
The gun shook in his hand, but he kept it aimed on Reid. His father wanted him dead. It was there in his black, soulless eyes. He hated him, had always hated him, and was finally going to do something about it. “You don’t wanna do that, old man.” He took a step forward. “You don’t like jail? If you kill me, you’ll be going back inside, and you won’t be coming out.”
“Don’t take another step,” he slurred.
The shakes got worse. If he didn’t do something now, the gun could easily go off by accident.
“You took everything from me. My house, my wife. Once you’re gone I can have it all back. You got plenty of money, all those businesses. Who you think’s gonna get that when you’re six feet under? You ain’t got no kids.” He took another slug of gin, then licked his lips as if he could taste it, taste the money that would go to Reid’s mother if anything happened to him.
He searched his mind for something, anything to say that might stop this, but came up blank. What could he say? His father hated him enough to want him dead.
The rev of an engine broke through the silence, tires squealing as a car sped past the house. Just some kid going for a joyride, but his father turned his head to see what the noise was. Reid took his chance, the only one he’d get, and lunged. But his father spun back at the same time.
The smash of his gin bottle hitting the concrete floor was closely followed by an earsplitting explosion.
Then what felt like a fucking sledgehammer tore through him.
A second later, Reid hit the ground, hard.
Then everything went dark.
Chapter Twenty-Five
A low incessant buzzing forced its way into Rusty’s dream, the same dream she’d had every night for the last few nights. Reid, lying behind her, heavy arm draped across her waist, face buried against her neck. They were talking, laughing, then she’d roll over, cupping his face, smiling up at him, and he’d whisper, “I love you, Rusty.”
The buzzing sound started up again, and she threw an arm out, grabbing her phone off the bedside table. What time was it? Had she slept in? Holding the phone in front of her face, she blinked several times, trying to get her eyes to adjust to the harsh light coming from the screen. 11:37 p.m.
She’d only been in bed for half an hour. The buzzing immediately started up again. She’d missed four calls, and the number flashing on the screen wasn’t one she recognized. Could be kids messing around, but then again—she hit the call button. “Hello?”
“Rusty?” A deep voice echoed down the line.
“Who is this?”
“Law.”
Law? “Why are you calling me in the middle of the damn night?”
“It’s Reid.” There was a pause. “You need to come to the hospital.”
