Page 123 of Scrape the Barrel
What if he found her?
I just had to hope I got to her first.
39
Sage
“What the fuck, Jason?”
He grabbed the cash in a flash, shoving it deep into his pocket with his other hand still on my arm in a bruising grip. “Where’s the money, Sage?”
I tried to keep the tremble out of my voice, but failed. “I’m not giving you any money.”
He shook me once, hard, as the man who brought me over here stood at the edge of the alley like some kind of guard dog. “Then where’s my daughter?”
I reached up to remove his hand, but he caught it before I could grab his wrist. His squeeze was punishing, and I was surprised none of my fingers snapped in his grip. I tugged, tears springing to my eyes. “Let me go,” I gritted out.
He clicked his tongue, holding me like it was nothing. He was always good at that. Treating me like I was nothing more than a bird's feather on the wind, inconveniencing him.
“It’s either money or the girl.”
“Thegirl?” I exclaimed, exasperated. “She’s mylife, Jason. You don’t even love her!”
In a flash, he dropped my hand and pain bloomed in my cheek as he slapped me, my head snapping to the side. My cheek and jaw stung, more tears puddling in my eyes.
“I’ll get child support if I have her,” he said, as if that was at all appealing to hear.
“Not if you kidnap her,” I seethed, though it came out more as a whisper. Raising my voice with him never got me anywhere. It only made it worse. But he was bringing Avery into this, and my heart couldn’t handle that.
His grip on my upper arm somehow became harder, cutting off the circulation. “Then give me what I want.”
“How did you expect me to give you money if you made me lose my job?”
“You’d move back to Portland and get a job that paid more than that shitty coffee shop.” It wasn’t confirmed before that he was the one who made the call to Erica, but now I was certain.
“You really think I’d move back withyou?” He’d lost his mind. Though, I wasn’t sure if he’d had it to begin with.
“You wouldn’t have a choice. I should drag your ass back there tonight. But I can’t do that without any money.”
“I don’t have money on me.” Did he expect me to hold thousands of dollars in my dress?
As if he needed proof, his gaze roamed over me, taking in my outfit. The hand he’d slapped me with dropped, patting down my sides, then went for my skirt.
No fucking way.
“Get off of me!” I shoved at his shoulders with all the force I could muster, despite his hold on me.
He brought me forward only to shove me hard against the storage container, my head snapping back again. My skull rattled, tiny black dots blooming across the corners of my vision. He continued moving his hand down, fisting his fingers in my skirt, lifting it.
I did all I could not to cry. He was checking me for money.
That’s what I told myself.
That was all he was doing.
My head lolled back against the metal as I closed my eyes, trying to avoid thinking about the pain in my head and arm. I couldn’t take it anymore. If I quit the fight, I wouldn’t get it as bad.
That was how it worked all those years I suffered his wrath.
