Haizley pulled me against her chest.
“Blaming yourself is the same as blaming Frankie. The only person who holds the blame is Richard.”
I struggled to accept Haizley’s affection, her warmth as she held me in her arms while I cried. But I clung to her anyway.
Chapter Sixteen
Derek
Three days, I watched him.
Three days, I planned how I would take him out.
Three days, my rage grew until everything I looked at was red. Every man who stepped in my path put their life at risk by saying the wrong thing to me.
I’d already beaten the hell out of three guys who thought I was an easy mark. I stepped out of the bar after having two beers. It was my limit. No matter where I was, or who I was with, I never drank more than two beers.
I didn’t want to be like him.
But I was exactly like him. I allowed my anger to get out of control. All the hard work Haizley had done, and I was pissing it away. And there wasn’t an ounce of regret.
He touched my daughter.
He almost killed her mother.
You almost killed Sam!
I told myself it wasn’t the same thing. Sam had lied to me. Betrayed our vows. It didn’t make what I did okay; I was wrong. Nothing could ever make it right, and I would pay for it for the rest of my life.
But this piece of shit touched my daughter and then beat the fuck out of her mother for trying to protect her. He beat the hell out of Kat because she caught him molesting her daughter.
There would be no guilt for what I was about to do.
It hadn’t been hard to find him; the motherfucker should have moved. Should have changed his fucking name. Should have done something to show some kind of remorse for what he’d done.
Not fucking marry a woman with three little girls.
Stacy Lewis worked the night shift as a nurse. For the last three nights, she’d been home with her family. Tonight, she had to work. Tonight, this motherfucker would try to hurt those girls. It would be the last fucking thing he ever did.
For three nights, I crept around to the back of the house, peeking in windows as I went. The house was a modest, one-story ranch with three bedrooms. The two young girls shared a room, leaving the oldest, who was two years older than Frankie, alone in her room.
Stacy had put the girls to bed hours ago before leaving for her shift at eleven. She was fourteen fucking years old. A child he’d been living with for three years. A child he’d been abusing for three years. Because a leopard didn’t change his fucking spots, not until someone skinned the motherfucker.
I peered through the glass, the sheer curtains obstructing my view. But not enough to see the door open. Not enough to see the outline of the man who had no business being in that room.
That was all I needed.
I ran to the front of the house and pushed the door open. Son of a bitch should have locked it first. Not that a locked door would keep me out. I made my way toward the back of the house when I heard her cry.
“Richard, stop!”
“I told you, Hannah, call me Daddy.” His words sent a chill down my spine.
“Stop, Daddy.”
“That’s it, baby.”
My hands clenched into fists moments before I grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him off the little girl. She screamed, but the sound was muffled by the blood roaring in my ears.
