Page 36 of Broken Player

“No shit,” I sneered. “Once this place is mine, I’ll figure it out from there. The first step is confronting Russell and giving him no choice but to sell it to me.”

“When’s that happening?” Connor asked, looking out at the fields surrounding us instead of at me.

Shrugging, I watched as the breeze blew the blades of grass until they were swaying all around us. “Fuck if I know. Whenever he decides to show his pathetic face.”

“I hope I’m here when he does,” he said menacingly, making a show of cracking his knuckles. I might have laughed if I didn’t know he’d killed men with his bare hands before.

Wanting a change of subject, I turned my attention to him. “What about you? How long are you staying here?”

“Until Z says it’s time to go, unless you need me to stay.”

“Let’s play it by ear,” I suggested.

“The new guys I’ve added to my team are holding their own right now, so I’m okay spending some time here if you need me. Say the word.”

“Thanks, man,” I said and I meant it. Connor had been the one by my side for almost the entire last year. He slowly replaced True and Zen as my best friends as they found their wives and peeled away from our group. I still considered them brothers and nothing would ever change that. Jericho, too. But things were different now. Connor and I were in the same place: Fucked up in the head and too stubborn to deal with it.

So we shot shit, got drunk, and fucked as much as we could. It worked for us, but now that I opened the lock box of feelings I carried around for Ryan, and now that I’d tasted her again after all these years, I wasn’t so sure I could go back to the way things had been before yesterday.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

“I should actually get going. I’m supposed to be watching Z’s back and not out here fucking around with you,” Connor said with a hint of amusement in his tone.

“Not my fault he keeps your ass on a tight leash,” I insulted him.

Lifting his huge body off the ground, he ambled back toward the house and disappeared inside. I got up and collected the cans and the basket of muffins before I started making my way back. Before I got to the back porch, I glanced next door, wondering what Ryan was doing right now and if she was thinking about last night as much as I was.

After a shower, a restless nap, and scrolling aimlessly through Netflix but not actually watching anything for what felt like hours, the sun was starting to set and I wondered if I should call the guys and see if they wanted to hit up the diner in town.Instead, I turned my head toward the lights that had just flashed across the living room wall through the huge bay window.

I stood up, raking a hand through my hair before bracing myself, my muscles tensing and my senses on high alert. I peeled two of the blinds apart and watched my father stumble out of the driver’s side of his old beat up Chevy. Fuckingfinally.I could confront the asshole that gave me life and hopefully be done with him once and for all.

By the looks of him as he stumbled his way up the front porch, barely staying upright, he was not even close to sober. I flinched, remembering the kind of damage a drunken Russell inflicted on me as a kid. Suddenly it was like I was twelve years old all over again, small and cowering from my strong and angry-as-a-tornado father who took out every injustice he felt the world had handed to him on me.

My palms went clammy and my heart rate skyrocketed as I waited for him to swing the door open, slamming it against the wood paneling of the wall behind it as he did so many times before. I couldn’t stop my body from reacting to the inevitable slam of the front door as I practically jumped out of my skin. Fuck. I hated the fact he still got to me.

I watched as my father stepped into the room, his gait uneven as he steadied himself on the wall, watched as his eyes locked with mine. “Who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my house?” he bellowed, his words slurred. Anger simmered in my veins. How could he not recognize his own son?

“It’s your son, you fucking alcoholic,” I answered.

“Can’t be. The one good thing my fucking cunt of an ex-wife did was get rid it. Sacrificed him to the devil like I done told her to do. So, I’ll ask you again. Who the fuck are you?” Russell glared at me from across the room.

This was pointless. He was clearly out of his mind high on something and the fact that even fucked up like he was he lookedglad to have been rid of me was a fucking gut punch, even if I knew my whole life he felt that way. It didn’t feel good to hear it again.

“You’re too fucked up to talk right now, so I’ll see you in the morning,” I fumed before trying to push past him to get outside. There was no fucking way I could stay here tonight with him like this.

“The fuck you will,” he thundered, pulling a knife out of a holder on his belt loop and holding it out toward me, a few inches from my face. Blinding rage tore through me. “I need to send you back to hell. They’ve been looking for you, whispering all the things they’ll give me if I spill your blood. And look, here you are. Didn’t even hafta look.”

Goddamn, what the fuck was he on?

“Last warning, Russell. Back the fuck off.” My fists clenched at my sides and my eyes narrowed into slits, tracking his every jerky movement. He looked hyper now, his eyes darting around the room, his breathing fast.

“Or what, demon? Hell’s got a spot waiting for you and I’m about to send you home.” A maniacal smile broke out across his face and I wanted to vomit. This shit right here was why I pushed Ryan away. What if I was looking at my future?

While I was figuring out how to get out of this house without my dad going completely psychotic, he decided he’d had enough waiting and lunged at me, knife slashing through the air. I caught his wrist and bent it back until I heard a pop but he didn’t drop the knife. With my other hand, I punched him in the face and he laughed as blood poured out of his nose in a river that turned his skin red and dripped onto his shirt.

Instead of falling back or recoiling, he punched me in the ribs harder than I thought possible considering he looked frail as fuck, like he hadn’t eaten a decent meal in years. Between the alcohol and whatever the hell he was on right now, I doubted hehad. I kicked out, trying to sweep his legs from underneath him so I could pin him to the floor but he was fast and moved out of the way.

While I still held his obviously broken and dangling wrist, the one that held the knife, he took advantage of the fact I wasn’t watching his other fist and it connected with my cheek just below my eye. Fuck, the old man could pack a punch, just like when I was a kid. My skin split and hot blood dripped down my cheek. I needed to end this shit now.

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