I close my eyes and run my hands over my face, feeling the old wounds threaten to give, the ones no one knows about.
‘You’re fucking useless, Calvin.’my father voice roars in my ears. I clench my fists as the ache of broken fingers on my eleven-year-old body come back to life.
I rip my cowboy hat from my head, as my heart rate spikes in my chest. I toss it to the dash, the memories of my past suffocating. I’veneverlost control, because I saw what happened when my father did.
But I still chose my demons. And those demons may or may not have fucked with the steering linkage of the asshole’s old Camaro while he drank himself stupid at the local bar. And did it lead to the car careening over the side of the bridge into the river?
Possibly. But no one ever laid a hand on me or my mother again.
She died a peaceful fucking death three years ago.
There has to be people willing to do what needs to be done.I remind myself why I started this, why I built the business when I got out, why I keep the leash tight on the men who can do the job. It’s not for the money.
It’s for control. I keep the monsters I know in check and put the monsters I don’t in the grave. There’s never been one I couldn’t decide where they belong.
Not until Cade. But I’m starting to figure that one out.
I’ll break him, or I’ll eliminate him. Period.
Chapter 18
Jenna
“Molly?”I say, gently, tapping my pen on the margins of her paper. “I think we need to expand the outline and add more detail.”
She blinks at me from across the table in her father’s house, then looks at the paper, then at me again. “Yeah, sorry.” Her phone has been going offconstantlysince we sat down tonight.
I sigh but keep my demeanor pleasant. “If you’re not feeling up to this tonight, we don’t have to keep going.”
Her shoulders fall, as she shakes her head. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m lost on paragraph three.” She points to her outline. “I thought I had it figured out, like what people assume from the outside looking in, and how our internal state can be so much different from how people see us… But it’s like…That’s all I have to say about it.”
I shift in the chair. “Hmm… I think you have more to say. What elements go into that judgment? And what causes people to misinterpret?”
“I don’t know,” Molly deadpans. “I guess it’s a lot of things. People think I’m a stuck up, overachieving nerd.”
“Or maybe that’s whatyouthink people see?”
She lets out a groan, slumping and resting her chin against her hand. “I don’t know. But I can vouch that everyone thinks I’m the girl with the weird, scary dad.”
I raise my brows. “And why do you think he’s scary? He seems pretty normal to me.”
She makes a face. “No, normal dad’s actually freaking smile sometimes, and he’s always running around with different guys, and most of them are creepy as fuck.”
“I mean…” I start to go into an explanation about my own dad, but her phone buzzes on the table. She snatches it up, reads the text, and instantly turns to me, eyes wide and panicked. “Sorry, I really have to take this. Can I?—?”
“Go for it,” I say, but she’s already up and moving, stepping away and out of earshot.
I set down the essay and look around the kitchen. It’s immaculate, every surface wiped, every mug hung by size and color. There’s a collection of knives on a magnetic strip above the stove, each blade gleaming, arranged smallest to largest. Even the trash can is lined up square with the cabinet.
Calvin Bradford never misses a step.
And that makes me nervous, like toying with him might be the worst decision ever. Which means Iknowheknowssomeone broke into his house. There’s no way in hell he overlooked a busted window. My eyes jump to the office door, where I know he’s disappeared to, allowing us unusual space.
“Sorry, Dr. Williams,” Molly interrupts my thoughts suddenly, magically appearing back in the kitchen. “If it’s okay, I think I’m going to cut this short. It’s a stupid family thing. I have to go to my mom’s.” She wrings her hands in front of her, and rocks back on her heels, giving me the saddest apology face.
“No problem,” I say softly. “We made some progress. That counts for something.”
“Thank yousomuch.” She yanks her backpack off the chair, doesn’t bother to zip it, and hustles out the front door, letting it slam behind her.
