“Yeah,” I agree.
As we’re coming out the front door, a red Mustang pulls up to the curb, and my stomach drops. Eddie steps out, and he’s not alone. There’s a busty blonde in a too-tight dress who rounds the front of his car and clings to his arm.
Eddie’s face contorts with rage. He storms over, the blonde stumbling behind him.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he shouts, his words slurring together.
Dread puts up a hand, keeping Eddie from getting in my face. But even with the space between us, I can smell the alcohol on his breath.
“You’re not taking my sons anywhere!”
My jaw drops to the floor. “You left our boys alone so you could go get drunk!” I run my hands through my hair. “Jesus, Eddie. Do you know what could have happened?”
The blonde in the short red dress stumbles closer. “Eddie, baby, who’s this?” Her words are as slurred as his.
Why am I not surprised that they’re both plastered?
“This bitch is trying to steal my kids,” Eddie snarls, pulling his hand back to strike.
It happens so fast. Eddie tries to slap me, but Dread catches his wrist. Then, with a deafening rumble from his chest, he rears back his fist and delivers a devastating punch to Eddie’s nose.
Eddie drops like a sack of potatoes, holding his face as blood pours between his fingers.
“Holy shit,” I gasp, looking at Dread with wide eyes.
Dread shakes out his hand. “You don’t put your hands on women. Ever.” His voice is lethal, and his eyes are blazing with fury. “Get in the truck, Honey.”
I hurry over to the black truck, and just like when we left the clubhouse, Dread opens the door and waits until I’m buckled in before closing it.
Tommy wedges his little body between the front seats, his hands on the console. His eyes are wide, and he’s got a grin on his face. “Whoa. That was awesome,” he says in awe as we watch Dread round the front of the truck.
“It’s not okay to hit people,” I say automatically, though I’m not so sure I believe that anymore.
“He stopped Dad from hitting you,” Tommy points out.
I sigh. “Yeah, he did.”
Dread opens the driver’s door and hops in. “Got your seatbelt on, kid?”
Tommy sits back in his seat and buckles up.
As we pull away from the curb, I glance back to see Eddie still on the ground, the blonde kneeling beside him. I know Eddie well enough to know that he won’t let this slide. He’ll retaliate somehow, and the thought makes my stomach churn.
But right now, with Dread beside me and my boys safe in the backseat, I can’t bring myself to care.
CHAPTER EIGHT
DREAD
Pulling into Honey’s driveway,I cut the engine, and the silence settles around us. My eyes flick to the rearview mirror, where I can see both boys sprawled out in the backseat, dead to the world. Tommy’s head is tipped back against the headrest, mouth hanging open, his small chest rising and falling with each breath.
Fuck.
Something in my chest twists looking at this kid who had to step up when his piece-of-shit father couldn’t be bothered. Eight years old and looking out for his little brother with diabetes, and making the call for help when he was scared.
The kid's got more balls than his old man ever will.
Fucking Eddie.
