Page 112 of The Locksmith's Promise

I heard him like he was right next to me, and my breath escaped in rough pants.

“You going to cry, boy?” Vince mocked.

With my father’s voice so clear and crisp in my head, I’d forgotten Vince was there.

I raised my eyes to his, barely seeing him through the mist of red obscuring my vision. “Get out,” I replied evenly, crushing the letter in my fist.

He sat back. “You know, I don’t think I will.”

I dipped my chin and stalked toward him.

The flash of fear in his eyes fed something wild and feral in my blood. Something I’d worked my whole life to eradicate.

Leaning toward him, I hissed, “I won’t fucking stop this time.”

He pushed himself off the couch and backed up hurriedly, tripping over his own feet on his way to the door.

“Not so tough now, are you?” I smirked and jerked my chin up. “Leave the keys on the table. All of them.”

Not that I wanted that fucking truck, but I didn’t need to see it all over town either.

“You try to come here again, I’ll have you charged with breaking and entering,” I warned, my voice hard as nails.

He tossed the keys on the table and backed up toward the door. Only once he got his hand on the doorknob did he snarl, “Fucking prick.”

I lunged toward him and laughed when he screamed and scurried out the door and down the driveway.

Checking the keys on the table to make sure he left the housekey along with the truck key, I walked out.

Despite the cold, I took the long way down to the docks to give myself time to calm down, dogged by the fear he was right.

That I couldn’t thwart my DNA.

Was I destined to live his life? Was coming back to this place a mistake?

I shook my head, Maggie’s smiling face and the freckles dusting Corwin’s nose assuring me it was not.

I wouldn’t ever give them up. Not without a fight.

I crested the top of the hill where the trail led down to the water.

Jenny was already there, a small, solitary figure sitting on the bench where we used to meet when we were teens.

I swallowed. What the fuck was I thinking agreeing to meet her here?

I should have suggested The Loose Moose or Miller’s house or any-fucking-where but here.

She turned her head from where she sat huddled in her winter coat and scarf and watched my progress until I stopped a good ten feet away from her.

I crossed my arms over my chest and waited.

“I won’t bite,” she admonished softly, a hint of impatience and hurt in her voice.

I narrowed my eyes. “I’m good here.”

She sighed and nodded. “I ask that you listen without interrupting until the end.”

I nodded sharply.

---