Page 115 of Score on You

The ass blubbers soundlessly like a fish out of water. “I’ll never apologize for fulfilling my duty as the head of our household. Over my dead body,” he adds.

“That can certainly be arranged.”

His face takes on a reddish hue as he snorts like a bull. “Are you even listening to me?”

“No.”

“Those two”—he blindly points at the women who have the displeasure of witnessing his rant—“need to be taught a lesson.”

I go still when that venom spews from him. The suggestion strikes a match and hovers the flame over my short fuse. Consider me triggered.

A memory assaults me, and it’s not even mine. The scar on Callie’s arm might as well be seared into my own flesh. That burn mark spreads into a lethal blaze fueled by countless injustices from this waste of oxygen. Revenge is the only extinguisher.

My hands clench into weapons that won’t quit until he’s properly dealt with. I glance at Callie taking a stand against her tormentor. She returns my stare and must see the desire for vengeance overtaking me. Her head shakes, just slightly. That refusal diffuses the bomb set to detonate. He’s still her father. I probably shouldn’t kill him.

My exhale releases the fire in my veins. “For their sake, I’m gonna pretend you didn’t suggest that.”

His eyes bulge to cartoon proportions. “You’re defending their behavior?”

“Bet your sorry ass. Not only that, I encourage them to be independent. They have my full support to chase their wildest dreams.”

His molars audibly grind. “I didn’t come here for jokes.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” I grunt.

Especially when he talks about his wife and daughter like they’re disobedient dogs. If anyone has earned a one-way ticket behind the barn, it’s this ugly fucker I’m forced to stare at. I’d be doing us all a favor by putting him down.

He swats at my most recent retort. “Just release my wife and we’ll be on our way.”

“Haven’t we already been over this? That’s not gonna happen unless she willingly goes with you.”

His glare swivels in her direction. “She belongs to me.”

“Like a piece of property?” I thump his forehead to regain his attention. Maybe knock some sense into him too. “You’re a real sack of shit. Who gave you this power over her? Did she volunteer?”

He hesitates after my corrective action but makes no move to reciprocate. “That’s the structure Billmoore thrives on. My wife will be prosecuted for the harm she caused.”

“The harm she caused,” I echo. The impulse to smack him again heats my palm. “What crimes did she commit?”

He blinks, scrounging for an answer that doesn’t exist. His corrupt rules hold no value. “She stepped out of line.”

“Didn’t take you for a hypocrite.”

His temper flexes and strains against whatever is holding him back. “I’ve about had it with your insults.”

My chuckle is a taunt. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Why don’t you tell me about your off-season hunting practices? Or maybe you’d prefer to share the details of your gambling circuit? Both are illegal, and that’s by government law. Not some fictional justice scheme you’ve cooked up.”

He visibly pales. “How do you know about that?”

“I paid a visit to your backwoods community. It didn’t take much to get the dirt I went for.”

“Are you trying to blackmail me? That’s extortion.”

“It’s hilarious that you’re trying to use legitimate legal jargon when it suits you.”

His throat bobs with a thick gulp. “We don’t need to get the authorities involved. Just give me my wife—”

“The answer is still no,” I interrupt.

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