Damon made a sound of outrage, tried to move again, and finally nodded. Josh eased his hold.
“You want . . . want money? My wallet’s in the bedroom. There’s five hundred bucks in there. You want more, I can get it for you.”
“Shut up, Damon. I don’t want your money.” Josh turned him loose, rounded the chair, and stood in front of him. Damon shot to his feet, but Josh shoved him back down.
“You know who I am?” Josh asked, certain the PI had sent him a picture.
Bridger looked him over, clearly recognized him. “You’re Cain. Hot shit ex-marine sniper.”
“There’s no such thing as an ex-marine, Damon. Be smart if you remembered that.”
“Fine. What do you want?”
“I think you know what I want. I want you to leave Victoria Bradford alone.”
Bridger’s mouth thinned. He was a good-looking guy, dark-eyed, well-built from what Josh could tell by the fit of his T-shirt and jeans, and in good physical condition.
“Tory’s under my protection,” Josh continued. “You know what that means?”
“That means you’re the guy who’s banging her. She tell you we’re engaged? Tory’s mine. No one is going to change that.”
“Bullshit. Tory stopped being yours the day you started abusing her. You put her in the hospital, Damon. She’s done with you. It’s way past time you figured that out.”
Damon made no reply.
“I’m giving you a warning. I won’t do it again. You come near Tory and you’ll be dealing with me. You know I was a sniper. I killed more men than I want to recall. But killing a dickhead like you wouldn’t bother my conscience a lick.”
As he turned and started for the door, Damon shot out of the chair, grabbed Josh’s shoulder, and spun him around. He swung a left Josh ducked, swung a solid right that clipped his jaw and sent a jolt right through him. The guy could throw a punch, no question about that.
Josh dodged another left jab and swung back, his fist connecting, slamming into Damon’s face, sending him flying backward till he crashed against the wall.
“Get up,” Josh said. “There’s nothing I’d like better than to beat the fuck out of you.”
Damon stayed where he was. He might be strong and in shape, but he wanted no part of taking a punch.
“Get out of my house. Get out before I call the police.”
“Just remember what I said. Stay away from Tory. This is the last warning you’re going to get.” Turning, he strode out of the family room. Behind him, he heard something shatter against the wall.
Josh turned and walked back. “Did you do it? The girl? Lisa Shane? Was it you?”
“Get the fuck out now!”
Summoning his self-control, Josh strode out of the house, slamming the front door behind him. His blood was running hot. He wanted to go back inside and give Bridger the beating he deserved. He wanted to tear the dirtbag apart limb by limb.
Trouble was he could actually do it. He had the training, the skills. Since he was done with killing, that wasn’t going to happen.
Not unless Bridger came after Tory again.
If he did, Josh intended to keep his word.
* * *
Tory finally managed to fall asleep. She and Ham had been playing cards for what seemed hours but actually wasn’t that long when Josh finally called Ham and told him everything was okay. Apparently, he wasn’t ready to come back to the room because he asked if Ham could stay a little longer.
Tory kept worrying.
It was late, the end of another exhausting day at the hospital. When Ham suggested she get some sleep while he went into the adjoining room and watched sports on ESPN, she agreed.
