“Then you need to stop talking about people like they’re beneath you.” Harlow didn’t let him go. A few steps away, Simon stood and watched the exchange, his face pale and his arms wrapped around himself as if he were freezing. New fear panged in Harlow’s stomach—right now, Bastian was dead set on antagonizing Jayne, but what if he realized Simon stood there, totally accessible? Harlow had to make sure he handled the situation quickly. He wouldn’t allow Simon to come to harm. “First, you’re going to apologize to Simon for flinging him down the hallway. Then, you’re going to apologize to him for making a total jackass of yourself in front of his apartment, and for defaming his brother. Then, when you’ve done all that, you’re going to take a long walk with me to the street, and you’re going to make yourself scarce.”
“Let go of my fucking arm!” Bastian snarled. A vein pulsed in his forehead, his skin sweaty and flushed.
“You’ve got two options.” Harlow twisted Bastian’s arm a little more for emphasis, not enough to break anything, but enough that the pain would, momentarily, be unbearable. Bastian clenched his jaw and hissed through his teeth, spittle flying. “One, you make the apologies I asked you for. Two, I break your arm, and when it’s in pieces, you’ll be able to pull it out from my grasp. Which one is it going to be?”
“I’m sorry!” Bastian seethed. “I’m sorry to Jayne, too.”
“Simon?” Harlow asked. He kept his eyes on Bastian, but kept Simon in his peripheral vision. “Is that good enough?”
“Y-Yeah…”
“Then I think we’re done here,” Harlow said. “Try anything stupid and I won’t be so nice next time.”
Warning issued, Harlow released Bastian’s arm. He anticipated a fight. Men like Bastian—day drunks with a grudge to settle—were bound to do unpredictable things, and Harlow wasn’t one to take chances. There were too many things at risk.
From the corner of his eye, Harlow saw Simon creep back to stand next to the wall, guarding his back and keeping his distance from Bastian.
Too many valuable things.
“Simon?” Harlow asked. “Go get the kids out of the stairwell. Take them to another floor. I’ll give you a couple minutes, then I’ll head through with ourfriendhere.”
Simon nodded. He hurried around Harlow and Bastian, giving them a wide berth, and disappeared through the doorway to the stairwell. The door clanged shut—he was gone.
“So,” Bastian uttered. His voice was so low, it crackled. While he spoke, he glared at Harlow and stroked his injured arm. “He put you up to this? He texted you, begging you to come save him? Promised he’d suck your dick? Or maybe that he’d put his ass in the air for you? You really think you can gain his favor? Get him to stay?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You know damn well what I’m talking about.” Bastian cleared his throat loudly, then spat. Glistening phlegm struck the baseboard of the hallway next to the door. “Let me be the first one to break the news to you—he ain’t gonna stay. No matter what you do, no matter how good you fuck him, no matter how tightly you keep him locked down, he’s gonna find a way to sneak around behind your back. He’s gonna fuck the shit out of your roommate, or your best friend, or your neighbor. And when you think it can’t get any worse, he’s gonna come to you, ass squeezed into those tight little jeans so you lose your mind, and he’s gonna straddle your lap and tell you that you knocked him up. Only the baby won’t be yours—just the bills.”
Harlow didn’t reply. In his mind, he traced Simon’s progress down the stairs.
“He’ll wave a paternity test in your face—rigged, obviously, by all his little doctor friends—and tell you that if you don’t pay child support, they’re gonna take your license away. That they’ll garnish the fucking wages you need to pay rent and issue a warrant for your arrest anyway, because, hey,fuck you!”
If he was right, Simon had just reached where Evie and Shep waited. They’d exchange hurried words while Simon ushered them to the third-floor landing.
“And all that? All that absolutebullshitthat he’s gonna do to you?” Bastian took a step forward, wobbling. Harlow did not attempt to catch him. “It’s gonna be on top of how he’s gonna text you at all hours of the day and night, crying about how unfair you’re being even though youknowhe’s been bouncing on every dick he can find. In fact, he’s gonna…” Bastian laughed. It burst from the tip of his tongue like a ruptured boil. “He’s probably gonna text you while he’s bouncing on his next dick, milking his newest victim.”
In Harlow’s mind, Simon ushered Evie and Shep through the door. It closed behind them. Harlow was ready to go.
“Listen.” He spared Bastian another glance. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“Cuz it’s the truth,” Bastian crowed. The cocky grin on his face coaxed bile to burn at the back of Harlow’s throat.
Harlow didn’t know much about Jayne, but he did know that whether Bastian’s allegations were true or false, Jayne deserved more respect than he was getting.
He circled around so he stood just behind Bastian, then nudged him down the hall. “Whether it’s the truth or not doesn’t matter.”
“Like fuck it does!” Bastian staggered forward, knocked off-balance by Harlow’s push. He caught the wall with his palm, then glared over his shoulder at Harlow, venom seeping from his rotten core. Harlow snagged him by the back of his collar and began to guide him down the hall, no longer willing to wait. “You think it doesn’t matter when he’s latched onto me like a leech? When he’s sucking me dry, taking all my money, fucking ruining my life with his, ‘It’s your baby,’ bullshit? He’s doing this onpurpose.Spreads his legs, begs for more, then fuckingdestroysyou. You better fucking hope he hasn’t let you get your dick wet in him. That fuckin’… fuckin’ black willow spider. Fuck.”
“Black widow spider.Widow,” Harlow said flatly. He dragged Bastian toward the stairs. “AKA: what Jayne would consider himself lucky to be with a prick like you giving him grief like this.”
It seemed Bastian hadn’t heard him—he continued spewing hatred, ignorant of Harlow’s insult. “Why the fuck does he even need child support? He’s a fuckingdoctor.He should be payingmechild support, fuck. Fucking… fucking emotional abuse support!”
“Let’s go.” Harlow wrenched open the door. “Time to leave. If you have a problem with Jayne, you can man up and come back sober—have a civil conversation.”
“There’s nothing civil about him,” Bastian sneered. They passed through the doorway, then down the first few steps. Bastian’s feet seemed to work at random, and more often than not, Harlow had to support his weight as he tripped. If Harlow had been less of a man, he would have considered letting go so Bastian could take care of their problem all on his own. “He’s ruining my life. I’m going to be fuckinghomeless,and it’s all his fault.”
“All his fault?” They arrived at the first landing. “You sure about that? Because it’s you showing up drunk at his doorstep on a Sunday, screeching obscenities and being a jackass instead of working toward a solution to your problems.”
