He scowls at me. “None of your business.”
I shake my head at him, still smiling. “You snuck in. No one knows you’re here.”
The marsh is eerily silent around us, as though even the gulls have fled in the face of the threat I pose. I’m the most dangerous predator out here, and Ron finally seems to understand.
He swallows hard, but he manages a contemptuous sneer. “What’d you do, follow me? If you’re here because of your girlfriend, don’t bother. I don’t want that frigid bitch.”
Fury swells my muscles, but I manage to maintain my composure.
“I warned you not to speak about her like that,” I remind him coolly.
He rubs his jaw absently, as though it already aches from the impact of my fist.
“No,” he retorts. “You told me not to say it around her.” He spreads his arms wide, gesturing at the empty marsh. “She’s not here.”
“She’s not,” I agree. “There’s no one here but you and me.” I unbutton my shirt cuffs and casually roll up my sleeves. “She wouldn’t like to see what I’m planning to do to you. But she’ll never have to know. You’ll never bother her again.”
He takes a step back, then teeters at the edge of the dock. He throws himself forward to stop from crashing into the saltwater creek. He falls straight into my brutal punch.
His head snaps back, and he drops onto the aged wood. I pin him while he’s stunned, pummeling his face until the lips that dared to kiss my Abigail are a bloody mess against his broken teeth. Warmth sprays my cheek, and my knuckles split at the force of my relentless blows.
I don’t fight the red haze any longer. I sink into it, allowing it to suffuse my senses. I revel in the rush of vicious power that I’ve only known since meeting Abigail.
When he stops moving, I grab his curly hair and drag him down the dock. He releases a garbled shout through his broken jaw as thick splinters pierce his cheek.
Ron’s boat shoes scrabble at the gravel as I pull him onto the rough driveway, as though he can run from the inevitable.
Then we’re in the mud, my boots sinking into sludge as I pull him toward the dark water.
His hands scramble for purchase, and he screams when his palms are sliced open by the sharp oyster beds. He grabs at my arm, and his blood smears on my white shirt.
The water flows up to my knees, but he’s trapped under my ruthless hands, his face shoved beneath the muddy surface. Outof the corner of my eye, I see a ripple moving toward us, and I recognize the ridged back of an alligator.
I won’t even have to clean up my mess.
This fucker just needs to drown before the beast reaches us.
He thrashes in the water, the desperate sound calling to the gator like a school of jumping bait. Then his body convulses when he fills his lungs with saltwater. He jerks in my hold once. Twice.
He goes utterly still, and his bloody hands float at his sides. I shove his body in the direction of the alligator, and before I’ve managed to trudge out of the mud and onto the shore, Ron disappears into the murky creek.
He’ll never touch my Abigail again.
30
ABIGAIL
“Are you okay?” Franklin’s voice is rough with worry over the phone. “I just walked past your front door, and the paint is all fucked up like someone’s been trying to kick it down. You didn’t answer when I knocked.”
“I’m fine,” I promise, quick to allay my friend’s concern. “I’m at Dane’s place. There was an altercation with that new guy, Ron, earlier. But I’m fine now.”
“What did that curly-haired creep do to you?” Franklin demands. “I swear to god, I will make his life hell until he moves out of this building.”
My heart warms, and my lips curve in a small smile.
“Thank you. I’ll take you up on that.”
Franklin is a wonderful friend, but I know he’s capable of chilling acts of passive aggression when someone crosses him. He can make Ron so uncomfortable that he’ll move out sooner rather than later.
