Page 140 of A Stop in Time

DANIEL

“You’re fuckin’ ridiculous.”

I move back and forth, my fists up, in a defensive stance. “What?”

Bronson glares at me. “You’re a goddamn beast. My woman’s gonna kill me if I come home with a busted-up lip, and I’m gonna be pissed as hell that I let you do it.” He shakes his head, but his eyes still never leave me. “You on ’roids?”

I rear back. “Fuck no.”

“Then you need to get your shit together.” Disgust infuses his movements as he roughly tears off his gloves. “’Cause I’m tired of you comin’ at me like you got fuckin’ demons at your heels.”

“Jesus. It’s just some goddamn sparring. Don’t get your panties in a bind.”

In an instant, he’s in my face, his features a mask of fury. “Don’t.” His nostrils flare with anger. “Don’t project your shit on me.” Our glaring eyes hold as he backs away. “Just ’cause you’ve got baggage you haven’t dealt with doesn’t make it okay to take it out on me or anyone else.”

“I’m not—”

His hand cuts through the air. “Spare me the bullshit. You came back here fucked up. We’ve tried to talk to you. Tried to help. But you”—he jabs a finger at me—“won’t open up or even do the work. It’s been two fuckin’ months.”

He steps back, shoulders lowering on a resigned sigh. “You’re useless to me until you get shit right in your head. Figure it the fuck out. Whether you love that woman enough to move past what she was made to do.”

He pauses a beat. “And whether you can accept that your sister wasn’t completely innocent either.”

Silence hangs between us, and emotion claws painfully at my chest.

“Emilia fuckin’ hurt other people, Daniel. Twenty-seven of ’em. And it wasn’t until she grew a goddamn conscience over how bad Mac was bein’ tortured and manipulated that she finally did somethin’.”

Anger has my heart pounding so loudly in my chest, it echoes in my ears. Before I realize it, I’m shoving against his chest, my words blade-sharp. “Fuck you! That’s my goddamn sister you’re disrespectin’!”

He shoves right back. “Fuck you! Your sister hurt your damn woman and other innocent people, too! Don’t you fuckin’ make her a goddamn saint. ’Cause she wasn’t. She’s the same woman who left you with a bastard who beat your ass on the daily.”

With snarled words, he jabs a finger in my face. “Stop sugarcoatin’ the fuckin’ past. She was your sister, yeah. But that doesn’t automatically make her a good person.”

His nostrils flare, his eyes drilling into mine. “Nobody manipulated her mind to hurt anybody else. She did it willingly. So, don’t come at me for tellin’ it like it is.”

Muscles tight with resignation, I knock my gloves together, wishing numbness would overpower my pain and confusion. Avoiding his gaze, I clench my jaw tight. “I know.”

“Yeah? Well, you need to reconcile that shit. ASAP.” Bronson’s voice dips lower. “I can’t have you here as my second-in-command when your head’s not right.”

Dropping my hands from my head, the bottom of my stomach plummets to the floor. “You’re gonna fire me?”

His hands tighten their grip on his gloves. “Depends.”

“We’re fuckin’ family.” The pain of rejection threatens to suffocate me.

“I know. And nothin’ will change that. Nothin’.” Bronson’s harsh exhale punctuates the air. “But you gotta do somethin’ about this. ’Cause these past two months”—he shakes his head—“have been for the fuckin’ birds. We got business to handle. You’re puttin’ shit at risk by not havin’ your head in the game.”

I rip off my gloves, tucking them beneath one arm, and flex my taped fingers. We both know my goddamn hands aren’t fascinating the fuck out of me right now and that I’m refusing to meet his eyes like a dickless coward.

There’s the briefest pause before he speaks. “You know, when Steve went to Mac’s, she thought he was there to kill her.”

My head snaps up, my gaze clashing with his. What?

“Yeah.” He dips his chin in a curt nod. “She was gonna accept it, too. No plans to fight back, either, ’cause of you. ’Cause of Emilia’s death. ’Cause even though she wasn’t in control, she’s still the one who killed your sister.”

His mouth presses thin. “She would’ve died—a second fuckin’ time—to make things right for you.”

I pinch my eyes closed at the sudden throbbing at my temples, letting my head fall back, while an ache seeps deep into my bones. The thought of Mac dying again incites the sensation of someone carving my heart out with a dull spoon.

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