Bad Things(120)

I backed away as he cursed, and then charged, taking Patrick down to the ground with a tackle that I swore made the entire house shake.

I screamed, and screamed some more as he started punching the smaller man, right in the face, again and again, his massive arms faster than I’d have believed possible. Patrick struggled, he tried, but he didn’t get one punch in before he went limp.

The sounds, the sickening thud of fist hitting flesh, and flesh giving to fist, made me nauseous, and I backed away, further and further, mortified by what Tristan was doing, what he was capable of.

Tristan kept hitting the limp man, his heavy fists brutal, and would have kept right on punching, if Kenny, Cory, Jared, and some guy I’d never seen before forcibly separated him from his prey. As it was, Patrick was out cold, his face bloody.





CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE





TRISTAN

It didn’t even take ten minutes before I regretted everything I’d said to her, and moreover, the way I’d said it. Even the parts that were true shouldn’t have been delivered like that.

I turned around, heading straight back, jogging now, panicking inside because I knew how she was, knew she would use my outburst to alienate us completely. I had so much more that I’d make her hear, though. I knew that I could change her mind.

I was at a dead sprint by the time I got back to the house. No one was left in the front yard, and I burst straight through the front door, searching faces. I went through three rooms before I ran into Frankie, who was looking, too.

“I saw her go into the house, but I haven’t been able to find her since you left. You’re in the doghouse, man. You better make this up to her. You better write some f*cking poetry to make up for the shit you said to her.”

I didn’t respond, still moving, and looking, room to room, frantic to find her. I had the worst feeling in my gut, I knew that the faster I found her, the better chance I had of keeping this from turning into something that I couldn’t handle.

I found Cory, and Kenny, and Jared, but still no Danika.

When I finally did come across her, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I was so shocked, that I just stood there for a moment, frozen in place.

That piece of shit was touching her. No, not just touching her, kissing her. On the lips. With his mouth. His arms were wrapped around her, too, but all I could focus on was what I needed to do to his face.

Danika wrenched away from him suddenly, her eyes furious, the curve of her mouth disgusted.

I lost my mind, my last clear thought before I went ballistic being that I would destroy him. I would rip him apart, piece by f*cking piece, for touching what was mine.

The next thing I remembered were cuffs snapping onto my wrists. I shrugged my shoulders, and the cops looked ready to Taser me for that small movement. I couldn’t blame them. When men my size went ballistic, bad things happened, as evidenced by the guy being pushed away in a gurney.

I looked around, saw my brother, Kenny, and Cory, but no Danika, or Frankie.

“Where is she?” I asked Jared, digging in my heels when a cop tried to prod me forward. I’d move when I was good and ready.

“She left. Frankie took her home.”

“Was she okay?” I asked, shrugging off the cop’s hand on my shoulder. “Give me a f*cking minute,” I told the officer, turning to give him a hard look.

He swallowed hard, but set his jaw. If I pushed him much more, he’d Taser me to prove a point.

I turned back Jared.

Jared shook his head. “She was really upset, but she didn’t get hurt or anything. You didn’t touch anyone but that guy in the gurney.”

I nodded, finally letting them lead me away. I knew I’d only made things worse by losing it, but even this second, when I thought of that guy touching her, putting his hands and his mouth on her, I wanted to pound his face all over again. And the fact that he was an ex, that he’d had sex with her at some point, that he’d been inside of her. Mine. Well, that made me want to kill him.

I was lost in my own thoughts to the point that I barely noted what was going on. I summoned up a smirk for my mug shot, but even through the booking, I wouldn’t answer a single question that they asked me. I thought that if I talked about, even mentioned that piece of shit that had been touching her, I’d lose my mind again.

I was focused on one thing. “Don’t I get a phone call?” I asked the officer that had been nonstop questioning me, growing increasingly frustrated when I just gazed off into space.