As Jake finally came forward to intervene, it occurred to me that this was my retribution for a lifetime of bottling up secrets. Pure, unadulterated rage, and I was willing to wield it on anyone who crossed my path. Even a sad excuse for a man who couldn’t resist the bottle, who needed help—not to be slapped down.
But I wasn’t the nice guy anymore. Putting my foot on his shoulder, my designer boots probing him to move, I gave one last order. “Where’s my necklace?”
“Man, she doesn’t even like that kind of shit,” he whined. “I could afford to buy her that, but she would have rejected it, but from you—it’s all special. Fucking whore.”
That got him another swift kick, this time to the thigh. He rolled into the fetal position, and Jake crouched down by his ear.
“Listen, asswipe, I’ve had to haul ass twice today to this desolate excuse of a place because of you. I would suggest that you tell me where the jewelry is, then you can text someone to come and help you dry out.”
“Or,” I added, “I can hang you over the deck and let you do it the easy way. Cold turkey.”
Then Jake took the guy’s arm and pushed on some pressure point until AJ was screaming bloody murder.
“In the freezer! You fucks,” he yelled.
Jake dropped his arm and kicked him in the leg again before trailing behind me to get my shit.
“Her cunt wanted me first! Sweet little thing practically begged for it, clamping down on my cock—you hear that, you sorry sack of rich shit?” he shouted, slurring his words and moaning as he rolled on the floor in pain.
We didn’t bother to shut the door on the sorry excuse for a man when we left. I hoped he fucking froze to death.
Jake revved the engine before he spoke, staring at the necklace clutched in my hand. “Holy shit, that Bess must mean a whole lot to you. Look at that sucker—it’s worth more than my gym.”
I slammed my door shut, then snarled at him as I slapped my other palm against the dash. “It doesn’t matter anymore, let’s go.”
As we barreled down the driveway, an old piece-of-shit Buick passed us coming up the hill. The driver—a middle-aged woman—slowed a little, and I swore I knew that face.
Fuck, I needed some sleep.
