Page 177 of Trust Me

“Don’t act frightened now. You were tough as shit when you were behind that wheel, right?” I swing again. And again, I intentionally miss Dean’s head.

Then I move in closer and flip the bat upside down, poking it underneath his chin so his eyes meet mine.

“You know, it was always going to end like this for you and me.” I thrust the end of the bat higher, straining his neck. “Ever since I heard the way you spoke to my wife.”

I step back and take his right hand, placing it on the wooden stool beside him. Without a second’s hesitation, I drop the business end of the bat right onto his hand.

I don’t know which is louder; the crunching of the bones in his hand, the cracking of the wooden stool beneath it, or Dean’s howls of pain.

“You should’ve stayed underneath the rock you crawled from out of. And you damn sure should’ve never, ever toyed with my fucking family.” I swing the bat again, cracking his knee.

More shrieks of pain.

“You know what?” I say, placing the bat against my neck and then turning to face my father, uncles, and grandfather. “This doesn’t seem fair. He’s all helpless and shit.”

They all grin at me.

“You get your craziness from me,” my Uncle Tyler says with a laugh.

“Have you forgotten who his father is?” my Uncle Carter asks with folded arms.

I ignore their comments, knowing my crazy is all my own. Turning to Dean, I smile down at him.

“I’m going to let you go.”

He jumps when I approach again. I begin unraveling the ropes that have him bound to the chair.

“You’re free,” I say, stepping back.

“R-Really?”

I nod. “Yup.” I turn my back to him and wink at my family before I turn and say, “Under one condition.”

“Wh-What’s that?”

“You’re completely free to go …ifyou can make it up the stairs and out of the door in the next thirty seconds.”

He blinks, looks past me to my family, and then back at me again.

“It’s not a trick.” I pull out the burner phone I brought with me. “I’ll start the clock.” I set the timer for thirty seconds and hold it up for him to see. “Go.”

He pauses, but when I wave the phone with the timer going, he limps past the chair. He curls over, almost falling. I fold my arms and watch him try to get halfway across the room to the staircase.

An evil grin creases my lips when I hear the first screams of agony as his bare feet make contact with the broken glass spread all over the floor.

“What is this?” he screeches.

“Oh, we did a little redecorating in anticipation of your visit. Hope you’ve got thick skin.” If he makes it past the glass, there are the upturned thumbtacks on the stairs he’ll have to deal with next.

“Fifteen seconds left,” I call out right as Dean screams when another piece of glass inserts itself into his foot.

He crumbles to one knee. When he lands on his injured hand, another yelp of pain comes from him. I should say that I feel bad, and the guilt is tearing at my soul.

It’s not.

The only thing I can think of is seeing my wife lying in the street after he hit her. Hearing Eve cry for Riley to wake up and holding my teary-eyed eleven-year-old as she asks me over and over if her aunt will be okay.

By the time the buzzer sounds on the phone, all I can see is red. Dean has only made it to the third stair. Without another thought, I make my way through the glass, crunching the shards beneath my steel-toe boots.

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