After the Storm (KGI #8)(115)

“I didn’t kill your mother. Eve did that all on her own. As for where Eve is, she’s in a place where she can get the help she obviously needs. She’s brainwashed you and Cammie both. What did she do, give you some sob story about me abusing your mother and then killing her?”

Travis’s jaw tightened and he raised the gun to point it at his father. It shook in his grasp and despite his efforts to settle himself, the gun still quivered. It pissed him off that Walt noticed and triumph entered his eyes. He didn’t think Travis had the balls to pull the trigger.

“You killed my mother. You abused my mother. You abused Cammie, you sick bastard. You tried to abuse Eve. I don’t need Eve to tell me those things. I have eyes. I have ears. I lived under the same roof. Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think I didn’t see the bruises? Didn’t hear the lame excuses? Now what did you do with Eve? Tell me or I swear to God I’ll shoot you.”

Walt’s lips formed a lazy grin. “If you shoot me, you certainly won’t find out any information on Eve, now will you? So it would seem we’re at an impasse. You want information I won’t give. And if you shoot, you’ll never find out.”

“What is wrong with you?” Travis shouted. “You’re my father! And I’m nothing to you! Why do you even care? Why do you want me and Cammie so badly? Why do you want Eve?”

He broke off, the gun shaking in his hand so badly he nearly dropped it.

“I know what you want with Cammie, you sick bastard. How could you? She’s a baby! And Eve! What has she ever done but care about her mother and us?”

“You all belong to me,” Walt said icily. “You’re mine. And I don’t relinquish control over what’s mine.”

“That’s all it is to you, isn’t it? You’re a psychopath. It’s all about control. You don’t give a damn about me or them. You don’t give a damn about anything but yourself and what you can control. You’re God in your own world and you think everyone is a pawn to do what you want, when you want.”

Walt shrugged. “Think what you will. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m holding all the cards. Now here’s what I will do. You can decide which sister you want to save. You get in touch with your precious Donovan Kelly and do whatever you have to do to get Cammie here. You do that, I’ll tell you where Eve is. You don’t? You can kiss your precious half sister good-bye. You’ll never find her. You’ll never know if she’s dead or alive. Cammie is your real sister. And as you said, she’s a baby. So you decide, Travis. But the clock is ticking on my ultimatum. Better make up your mind fast. But know this. I’ll get Cammie back one way or another. You expediting matters will make me more amenable to giving you information on that weak, spineless, utterly worthless half sister you seem to value so much.”

“Weak? Spineless?” Travis’s mouth gaped open. He was so furious that he couldn’t even see straight. Walt’s features blurred in front of him and his knees nearly buckled.

“You son of a bitch. A weak, spineless, worthless person wouldn’t have stood up to you. She wouldn’t have risked so much to try and get our mother out of your grasp. A weak person would have taken the easy road and let you control her life like you were so determined to do. She would have remained silent and let you continue your abuse. Instead she lost everything. Everything. And she risked it all to take me and Cammie away so we’d be safe. The only weak, spineless, worthless piece of shit in this picture is you and I’m horrified that we share the same blood. I can only pray to God that I never inherit a damn thing from you.”

A spark of rage flashed in Walt’s eyes, the first emotion other than calm smugness he’d displayed.

“You will not speak to your father in that manner,” he seethed. “I own you, boy. And by God, I’ll dispose of you just like I did your pathetic excuse of a mother.”

Frozen by the admission, Travis stared in horror at the man who called himself his father. Yes, he’d known Walt had killed his wife, but hearing him so callously admit it stunned him.

And it was in that moment of inattention that Walt launched himself the short distance that separated the two. Travis barely had time to tighten his grip on the gun when Walt attacked.

They went sprawling, Walt on top, his hand curling around Travis’s wrist, tightening until Travis was certain the bone would break. His father was strong. Much stronger than Travis would have imagined. And in this moment, he realized that Walt would kill him if he was able to wrest the gun from his hands.

They rolled and Travis struck out with his free hand, trying to knock Walt back. Walt grabbed the hand and twisted it high above his head, his other hand locked around Travis’s other wrist until the hand holding the gun went numb.

Triumph gleamed in Walt’s eyes as he lay atop Travis with Travis pinned to the floor.

“Such a sad story this will make,” Walt said. “Overcome with grief over his mother’s death and his half sister’s mental illness, the son takes his own life, no doubt a result of the same mental illness that gripped his mother and half sister. Genetics, you know. It’s too bad I didn’t choose better in my wife. Now it will only be me and Cammie and I’ll garner sympathy for the tragedy that has befallen my family.”

Knowing he was now fighting for his life, Travis rammed his knee between Walt’s legs. A look of agony covered Walt’s face and his grip loosened. Just enough for Travis to shove the gun between them.