Page 51 of The Temptation
They’d both get locked up for this, but even though we have some of the local cops on our payroll, the last thing I want is them sniffing around my place.
“We will leave … okay? We won’t come back. I was looking for my car. I need it, Romeo.”
“And I told you that you could have it when you got your licence back.”
“That could take years.”
“You should have thought of that before …” My words die off because I’ve had this conversation with her too many times to count. There’s no getting through to this woman, so I’m just wasting my breath. Anything I say will fall on deaf ears like always. “You know what, I’m not doing this with you right now.”
I continue moving, and when I reach the entry to the garage, my fury only amplifies when I see that goddamn fucker gathering up my tools and anything of value he can pawn into a nice little pile by the door.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I roar.
He looks up, and the terror that flashes across his face when he sees me in the doorway makes the corners of my mouth curl into a slow, sadistic smile.
“Fuck!”
“Yeah,fuckis right, motherfucker,” I growl, closing the distance between us in a few long strides.
I grab a fistful of his shirt collar and slam him back against the wall.
He might only be a few inches shorter, but he’s no match for someone like me. Not when he’s staring down a storm he clearly never saw coming.
“Romeo, please,” my mother begs, reaching for my arm again. “Please don’t hurt him. Look, I’m sorry, okay.”
“You’re sorry?” I ask in disbelief, glancing at her over my shoulder.
Those are two words I’m not sure I’ve ever heard her mutter, but that’s when I notice her face, specifically, the bruise on her left cheek. I hadn’t seen it earlier outside in the dark.
“What happened to your face?”
“I …” She glances down at her feet before saying, “I … umm … fell.”
She’s lying.
I turn my attention back to the motherfucker who I still have pinned to the wall. “Did you do that to her?” I growl, getting up in his face.
“I …”
“Don’t you dare fucking lie to me.”
“I-it was an accident,” he stammers.
“A fucking accident,” I bellow and let go of his shirt.
The stupid fuck takes that as an opening and tries to throw a punch, but my reflexes are sharp. My hand snaps up and clamps down on the median nerve between his forefinger and thumb.
As soon as I apply pressure to the right spot, it shoots a bolt of pain straight through his arm. If you do it right, it can even make the hand go limp and useless for a while.
When he lets out a blood-curdling scream, my smile returns. Call it callous, but my mum’s half his size, and he didn’t think twice about putting his hands on her. Whatever punishment I’m about to dish out, he earned.
I drag it out, savouring the fear flickering in his eyes, before I start pulling down and twisting his arm backward.
My free hand clamps over his mouth, ready for the next part. He thought what I did to his hand hurt? He hasn’t felt anything yet.
I don’t stop until I hear the sickening pop of his shoulder as I tear it straight out of the socket.
His muffled cries vibrate against the palm of my hand, and the moment I let go and step back, he collapses to the floor like the pathetic sack of shit he is.
