Page 115 of Kings Don't Break
The front door creaks open and he appears, hostile and suspicious. He juts his chin at me. “Stay where you are. If I find out you didn’t really come alone?—”
“I’m alone,” I grit out.
And it’s the truth—I am. On my way up here, I phoned Sydney and had her head to the hospital to keep an eye on Sunny and her condition. Then I phoned Mace and the guys to let them know what the fuck was up.
Mace growled about rolling out to serve as back up, but I told him to stand down. We couldn’t risk Stricklin catching wind of us conspiring against him. He’s spiraled enough that he would be willing to hurt Korine more than he possibly already has. Just to punish me for breaking his rules.
“You’ll understand if I don’t believe a word out of your mouth,” Stricklin says. He steps out of the doorway in his police uniform, with his firearm in full view holstered on his hip. He wants me to see he’s armed and in the powerful position.
For me to understand I’m supposed to be obedient.
I glare watching him approach me like any other cop during a routine stop. He must anticipate the possibility of any of the neighbors looking out their windows or happening by with the way he moves as if the moment’s official business.
“Hands on your head. Feet shoulder width apart.”
“How about you back off or I’ll shove one of those feet up your ass?” I growl back.
“Careful. You could be seen as resisting arrest again,” he says, stepping behind me. His hands begin patting up and down my torso. “If you think for one second I’m letting you inside my home without a proper police pat down, then you must not realize who you’re dealing with. You try anything—anything at all—and you’ll come to regret it. Why haven’t you learned this lesson yet?”
I grind my teeth. “Where’s Korine?”
“Kor’s home. Where she belongs.”
“You’re gonna let her go,” I say as his pat down continues. He’s making his way down my leg. “You let her go and it’ll be between me and you. The way it’s supposed to be.”
“The way it’s supposed to be is my wife in my home, doing what I want, when I want. Not whoring around town with some alcoholic loser who rides a bike for a living. You’ve gotten in my wife’s ear, and you’ve made her all confused. But that ends tonight.”
He gives me a hard shove forward to prompt me toward the house. I’d crack the arrogant look off his face if it wouldn’t cost me getting to Korine.
For the moment, I do as he orders. I head toward the house, waiting out the right time. Stricklin might have a gun strapped on him, but I’m not intimidated in the slightest. I’ll do whatever it takes to get to my girl.
Whatever I need to in order to make sure Kori’s alright and Stricklin’s six feet under.
The night I ambushed him will seem like love taps by the time I’m through with him.
The door clicks shut behind us and he directs me to the living room. I don’t budge an inch.
“Where’s Kori?”
“My wife is otherwise occupied. Get in the living room.”
“I’m not going anywhere ’til I see Kori’s okay.”
“I never said anything about her being okay.”
He says the words with a level of cold indifference, like he couldn’t care less about how she’s doing.
The rage that’s clenched deep inside me burns to be set free—but there’s another emotion creeping from the depths. Disgust that a man could be this way toward a woman he was supposed to love. It’s the same reaction I’d had the night Korine turned up on my doorstep, where I’d gone around and around in circles horrified at how he could hurt her this way. How could he bring her such fucking pain?
“I want to see her. Now.”
“You’ll see her when I say you?—”
“KORI!” I roar into the quiet void that’s the large home. “KORI, ARE YOU HERE? ANSWER ME!”
My first couple calls go unanswered… and then it happens. The smallest, weakest cry of pain comes from upstairs. It’s a groan of my name from a voice that’s been worn thin from trauma.
She’s hurt—my girl is in fucking pain.
