Page 42 of Single Mom's Firemen

He looks awful. Dark shadows are under his eyes, thickening stubble along his jawline. He has lost some weight, and I can tell from the red threads in his gaze that he’s been abusing some sort of drug, or drugs, since I’ve been away. His suit, however, is a custom-tailored Ferretti, dark navy with a pale blue shirt and burgundy tie. He seems to have stepped out of a fashion catalogue, ever the charming bastard.

But I know better.

That smile. That piercing glare. Those good looks. It’s all for show. Colby Nash is rotten on the inside, rotten to his core, and there is no healing the kind of monster that lurks within him. This man is unrepentant in his hatred and obsession, and his mother has done nothing but facilitate his sick habits and horrific behavior. Over and over again, at the cost of my health and safety. What Colby did was unforgivable.

Had I not run away when I did, I would’ve ended up just like that man in our living room.

All that blood.

Oh, God.

“How? How did you find me?” I ask again.

Finally, my feet are moving, inching backward, ever so slowly.

“The minute you filed those divorce papers it was easy to track you down,” Colby replies, downright satisfied by his own sleuthing. “I took my time once I found you, watching you trying to make it on your own.”

“You set the diner on fire,” I hiss, my voice trembling with rage.

“You got the message, didn’t you?”

There’s not a hint of regret anywhere on this man’s face.

“Our children were upstairs.”

“Come home, Helena. It’s time,” Colby says, ignoring my statement.

“Did you hear me?”

“I’ll do whatever it takes to show you, to prove to you that you’re helpless without me.”

“My God,” I gasp, realizing precisely how delusional he is. How insane. How cruel. “Colby, I would rather die a thousand deaths than ever come back to you. Get the fuck away from me!”

I try to run but he catches me by the throat, pulling me close. Too close.

“Dammit, Helena, don’t make this harder than it already is,” he hisses, his grip tightening against my windpipe. I struggle against his hold, trying to pry his hands off me, kicking and gasping for air.

“Let… me… go…”

“You’re coming home, babe. We’ll come back for the kids later, don’t worry,” he says.

“NO!”

I see a shadow move out of the corner of my eye. A gust of air brushes past my face. The fist clocks Colby right in the side of the head, hard enough to make a cheekbone crack and to get him off me.

I cry out, finally free of his grip.

Chase stands between us, towering like a deadly, angry giant, clad in black jeans and a black tee shirt.

“Who the fuck are you?” my ex-husband snarls, keeping his distance as he cautiously touches his reddening cheek.

“I’m the man who’s gonna put you six feet under if you don’t leave Halle and the kids alone,” Chase replies, his voice as cold as his glare. He gives me a quick glance over the shoulder. “Are you okay, Halle?”

“I think so.”

Colby looks at me with pure hatred in his eyes. “We’re not done here, Helena. You will come home with me, one way or another.”

“You are absolutely done, you piece of shit. Unless you want me to break the rest of your face, right here, right now,” Chase says.

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